Goveller’s Travels
Monday 5th October
The Tories of Brobdingnag observed me, after tying my shoelaces, leap thirty feet from Queen Patel’s outstretched palm into Therese Coffey’s spittoon, surprised at such fearlessness and common sense in so diminutive an animal.
1/6
Monday 5th October
The Tories of Brobdingnag observed me, after tying my shoelaces, leap thirty feet from Queen Patel’s outstretched palm into Therese Coffey’s spittoon, surprised at such fearlessness and common sense in so diminutive an animal.
1/6
It was the season of their conference, so I was carried to a blue-collar Tory event, where sole-traders with a ladder-withdrawing mindset fawned over their highborn betters; I observed this forelock tugging deference to be a form of Stockholm syndrome, where hapless hostages
feel sympathy with their captors; Not Stuckhome Syndrome, where you bake sourdough during lockdown; or Stalkhome Syndrome, which is what Steven Crabb does. But there was a great distraction. King Trump, a fact-dodging skinflake with clay synapses and
more NDAs than I’ve had moral-reckonings was struck down by Schrodinger’s Plague, simultaneously a hoax and the worst pestilence known to man. And thus stricken by the epidemic he claimed to have eradicated, the citizens now wrestled with their consciences.
How far, wondered the remaining sensible ones, should good wishes be extended to a man who would receive them as justification for his psychopathy? And how far, wondered the morally vacated ones, could they further supplicate themselves before this ectoparasite
who thrived on taunting the afflicted. Yet this was only a temporary distraction from the crisis of the economic sanctions Brobdingnag had recently self-imposed in order that it might build some lorry parks, refugee-repelling wave machines and a prohibitively expensive customs
system whose notable characteristic was that it replaced a free one which worked perfectly. Which itself was also a distraction from the most important news of the day: that wheelie-bintellectual Laurence Fox had set up a new political party with the single stated aim
of reinforcing his confirmation bias whilst calling people paedos. I, observing the manner of all that passed in this deranged kingdom, asked the queen after a warm manner how long “your empire had been aspiring to defeat itself?” to which
she set me gently upon the escritoire and called forth the hundred foot motleys of the Conservative cabinet, hand picked for their sycophancy who chanted in a round:
“If voting changed anything, we’d ban it!”
With many thanks to @Michelangela75 for locating today's painting.
“If voting changed anything, we’d ban it!”
With many thanks to @Michelangela75 for locating today's painting.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
