It began to be talked of in Brobdingnag, that my master had a strange conniving animal that went erect upon two legs, the finest limbs in the world, and a complexion fairer than Dr David Bull. A titanic Andrew Neil who lived
1/7
hard by came to inquire into the truth of this story, and I was placed upon a table to make my reverence to this out of work toupee model. The jaundiced behemoth put on his spectacles to behold me better; at which I could not forbear laughing very heartily, for his eyes appeared
like the full moon shining into a chamber at two windows. When my people discovered the cause of my mirth, they bore me company in laughing, at which the old fellow was fool enough to be out of countenance. He had the character of a great boorish measle, this Chairman of
a magazine whose output he had absolutely nothing to do with, and to my misfortune, he well deserved it, for pursuant to his advice, I was to be shown me as a sight upon a market-day in the next town. I was transported forth, terribly shaken and discomposed; for the horse
went about forty feet at every step and trotted so high that the agitation was equal to my gnawing Faustian guilt over Brexit. Although much less frequent. At the sign of the Track and Trace Arms I was placed upon a table near three hundred feet square and made to ponce before
silenced, vulgar and noxious dolts like Lawrence Fox, Paul Dacre and Charles Moore. Hundred-foot steeples of self-pity that brimmed with such resentment I almost began to feel good about myself; I was surprised nobody in Brobdingnag had asked them to run a political party,
hate-filled organ or national TV broadcaster, that by projecting their loathing they could have engendered equality by dragging everyone else down to their base, earth-vexing level. I was that day shown to twelve sets of company of this calibre and forced to act over the same
fopperies as if I was still in Boris’s cabinet. But my nurse Andrea Jenkyns fell a weeping. She said I had been promised me hers; but now worried Johnson meant to serve he, and me, as last year, when he pretended to give her a lamb, yet soon as it was fat, sold it to a butcher...
With many many thanks to @Michelangela75 for finding this scene from the Tavern.
*serve her
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
’Twas the night before Sunak, when all thro' the House,
Not a Gullis was stirring, not even a mouse;
Order papers were hung by the Speaker’s own chair,
In hopes that Asylum Bill soon would be there;
🧵
The Tories were huddled, immersed in their threads,
While visions of boat people danc'd in their heads,
Suella in her 'kerchief, Jenrick with his stab,
Had just settled our brains for debating crap –
When out on the Green there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bench to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
Moon shone on the Press, in Rwanda’s shit show,
Gave lustre of day on objections below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
7am - Breakfast of Sugar Puffs made with a can of Monster
7.05am - Count and remove the nine bagged dogshits local youths posted through my letterbox last night
7.06am - Convene Star Chamber of Rayleigh and Wickford Neighbourhood Watch
🧵👇
8.15am - Star Chamber conclude that plan to deport local delinquents to Leyton is full of holes
9am - Open door and step in the pork pie I left on my doorstep for the unknown soldier last night
9.05am - change my Bertulli elevator heel shoes for pair of combat boots
9.10am - Climb into my ice white Range Rover Evoque with appearance package, put the Dambusters March on the integrated Bose sound system, and head for Westminster
11am - Arrive Whitehall in 1hr 50. Only three road rages, two Ginsters stops and a dislodged cyclist. A good run
Has spent the last decade trying to infiltrate and restructure the RNLI so that they will only launch for people with 98% Saxon DNA.
He makes a supplementary income from an illegal puppy farm.
Robert Jenrick
Retrained as a painter and decorator, specialising in making childcare facilities for vulnerable youngsters as foreboding as possible.
Jacob Rees-Mogg
Died in a freak Tridentine Mass accident when one of the black silage polybags of gold florins he insisted his hedge fund dividends were paid out in was struck by an incense thurible and landed on his head.
It has been a decade since the Conservative Party imploded at the 2024 general election (now you feel old), and you'll never guess what Boris's babies have been up to since the franchise ended!
Scroll down to find out...
Therese Coffey
Since losing her seat, the former environment secretary has been keeping busy with her pop-up abattoir, roaming provincial city-centres armed with nothing but a bolt gun and an packed trailer of distressed livestock.
Jonathan Gullis
After a stint as Kidsgrove’s lollypop man (sacked for bellowing at dawdling children), the ex-Stoke North MP found his true vocation in pest control. “I can read a cockroach” he said after winning Rentokil’s coveted July 2015 Exterminator of The Month award.