Thread by @MarkFrancois12

Extracts from the plague diary of Mark ne-Francois-Pepys

Saturday 6th June 1665

This day I to our new flagship HMS Alert, Britain’s secret weapon in securing post Brextoration trade deals with all nations, apart from those European or the landlocked.
Soon as boarded

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we went to view the ship all over, and most exceedingly pleased with the Agincourt softplay area, Monster sponsored Dunkirk lifeboats and Only Fools and Horses theme pub wherein I hilariously fell through the bar without Admiral Grayling noticing and that done, under the

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Cath Kidston bunting, our trade delegation of Duke of York, Liz Truss and Tim Henman did eat the basest American meat our chef could find. After, that it be the anniversary my heroics on D-Day wherein I secured Omaha, Juno, Sword and Gold beaches and also parachuted in

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the night before to secure all the bridgeheads without breaking sweat (not in the Prince Andrew way), we took to my pedal swan to inspect the assembled fleet of inflatable bananas, and there is that Spleeny Mussolini Nigel Farage again, bobbing about in the brine as an

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unflushed turd and recreating his own Operation Doverlord by seeking for those souls shortest of agency upon whom he may lay society’s ills, and this is good sport, but not quite an accurate representation of how I did deliver the continent from itself, or how these

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ungrateful Europeans have since made mockery of my herring do by driving on the right, co-operating with each other and eating salads. Thus, with my brow furrowed in contemplation, chief petty officer Melanie Phillips so ranked for her spite, does looks disdainfully upon me

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and discourse that it is an insult to our venerable tradition of endemic racism that I should have taken the knee, but I am at great pains to allay her fear by discoursing that in lieu of a chodbin, I am in actual fact chodcasting into the ocean. By the time we come on

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board again, news is sent us that the Johnson is on shore; so Grayling fired all his guns round twice, which in the end fell into disorder and Farage is promptly sunk collected by our UK Boarder Force, those private school children whose parents increase their patriotism by

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abandoning them during holidays, and he is become the victim of the Youth Hostel Environment. And there follows this evening, passion! That after practicing our pitch to the Governor of Papau New Guinea to sell him 500 Airfix Matt Hancocks I did suggest to Liz Truss

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we might adjourn to the bowsprit where under a dusk sky I am putting my hands on her waist! And with only the wind and hiss of the Channel unfolding beneath she confides ‘Mark, I’ve never felt more alert’, and I do reply ‘Henmania!'
Monster Munch, Bed.