Thread by @mrhenrymorris

Goveller’s Travels

Wednesday 16th September

I ran as fast as I could, but could see little, the corn rising forty feet and trees so lofty I could make no computation of their altitude. I was endeavouring to find shelter when I discovered a colossal man advancing, a Rees-Mogg

as tall as an ordinary spire steeple, with thirty grouse shooting Tory donors. I hid myself in a pile of redundant manifestos and heard this tofflofty speak many degrees louder than a Mike Fabricant anecdote ‘Perficite exitus Britanniarum’, I believe Get Brexit Done. Although

it may also mean ‘Achieve the destruction of the regions of Britain’. This summoned forth lobby-fodder runts Lee Anderson, Andrea Jenkyns, Dehenna Davison and Ben Bradley. The tweedy grandees sneered and sniggered at these forelock tugging frothers, which might have elicited

sympathy had they not been race-baiting fear-mongers intent on destroying the economy after subscribing to the Channel Five Christmas schedule version of history. To demonstrate their compliance Alabaster Capitalist Mogg called ‘Discessus significat discessum’ (Leave means leave)

compelling them to bark like dogs, scurry around on all fours, sniff each other’s bottoms, and fight over a large bone on which he’d written ‘Recipite imperium’, I believe 'Take back control'. Being quite dispirited with the thunderous vibrations of Ben Bradley chasing a stick

the size of an Airbus A380 that Lee Anderson had just cocked his leg on, and wholly overcome by grief and despair, I lay down and hearkened unto to the humiliation of those who didn’t realise they suffered it, lamenting my own folly and willfulness in attempting a career in

politics against the advice of all my relations and friend, when I might otherwise have done well as a lettings agent, or cowboy builder. In this terrible agitation of mind, I could not forbear thinking of Lilliput, whose inhabitants looked upon me as the greatest

prodigy that ever appeared in the world; where unlike in British Government, I was able to perform actions which will be recorded for ever in the chronicles of that empire, while posterity shall hardly believe them, although attested by millions. I reflected what a mortification

it must prove, to appear as inconsiderable in this nation as one single Lilliputian would be among us. Undoubtedly Sarah is right, when she tells me that nothing is great or little otherwise than by comparison. And as Andrew Bridgen arrived late and rolled on his back

to allow Rees-Mogg to inspect his matted belly hair with an ivory cane, I reflected that even this prodigious race of mortals might be equally overmatched in some distant part of the world, whereof we have yet no discovery. Thus, Mogg spake

‘Amplectamur syndicatum mercaturae mundanae’ or 'Lets go WTO'. And they left.

With many thanks to @MrJunkerBarlow for locating this beautiful watercolour of the training session.