Thread by @MarkFrancois12

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

June 28th 1665

Mighty sleepy; slept till past eight of the clock, and for fear of coming late skulled a Monster with all possible haste that it is armed forces day and I am giving a live exhibition of

1/6

battlefield potato peeling at the Willows Shopping Centre, Wickford. There and grayte pleasure to find Kate Hoey, a renegado captain of Labour washing my potatoes with the Boy Bridgen, and a crowd gathered of striplings and apprentices speaking ‘did you get those eggs off

2/

your windows Penfold?’ and ‘Francois you wanker’, grayte potatriotism but after comes through this premier shopping venue Lord Jenrick agitated, that he hasn’t any change for parking asking has anyone seen a property mogul who could sub him ere his next kickback, and

3/

thence Rees-Mogg, leeching our life with all the soul destroying lustre of an unloved stick of privately educated bamboo, and he is trying to get money back on the wrong satellites government bought out of a sense of obdurate nationalism from Superdrug, but anon, store

4/

security escort him away that he remains barred after the event with the nappies, and by and by comes The Johnson, who is reopening the taverns and in good repute again, and Lord! to see what successe do, whether with or without reason, making a man seem wise, notwithstanding
5/

never so late demonstration of the profoundest folly in the world, but that Matt Hancock arrives with the latest news of lowest common-sense denominators in our cities, towns and government advisory capacities shitting everywhere, The Johnson becomes a fluster and is

6/

running in and out of Barnardos and Sue Ryder hollering ‘a hearse, a hearse, my kingdom for a hearse’. Potato thirteen ways, bed.