Thread by @mikegove12

Goveller’s Travels

Monday 12th October

Whether by voluntary economic sanctions, incoherent plague legislation, selling arms to brutal regimes, syphoning public money, or demonising boats full of desperate children, Brobdingnag was engaged in a race to the bottom of its own

integrity, masterminded by the four major heads of state. Famine - Gargantuan Michael Gove, for whom no-deal Brexit and GDP Armageddon were a price worth paying for a shot at promotion; War - Huge Priti Patel, who waged war on the desperate to eradicate the national disease of

compassion. Pestilence - Massive Matt Hancock, whose daily cries for help, such as forbidding the rest of the country from getting pissed after 10pm and then getting publicly pissed after 10pm were a constant reminder that this deputy to the deputy head boy should have

stayed milk monitor; Conquest - Colossal Boris Johnson, known locally as Falspaff, whose unbriefed touch guaranteed either political disaster or pregnancy. Affectionately referred to as the Four Farceman of the Apocalypse, they were driven to Excel by the rival jockeys

of ineptitude snapping at their heels: Theft - Robert Jenrick; Emojis - Liz Truss; Jockstraps - Dominic Raab; Scare in the community - Therese Coffey; Male grooming - Grant Shapps; Limescale stains - Oliver Dowden to name but a few. I would often dine on hormone-impregnated beef

with them on a little chair brought before the salt, pepper and chlorine cellars and they took a pleasure in conversing with me. But the prejudices of their education prevailed so far, that Johnson could not forbear observing

“how contemptible a thing was the grandeur, which could be mimicked by such diminutive insects as I: these creatures contrive little nests and burrows, that they call houses and cities; they have their titles and distinctions; they love, they fight, they dispute, they cheat,

they betray, all in such an insipid way” My colour came and went several times, with indignation, to hear our noble country, the mistress of incompetence, the scourge of itself, the arbitress of morons, the seat of treachery, greed, dishonour, and gits, this envy of the world,

so contemptuously treated. As if this land of Brobdingnag, albeit with it’s creatures twenty times our size, came even close to matching our enormous, unapologetic, consistent and titanic failures.