Thread by @mikegove12

Goveller’s Travels

Wednesday 14th October

The kingdom of Brobdingnag is much pestered with flies in summer, each as big as a grit fed grouse. These odious insects thrived on chickens so wretched they were marinated in chlorine, cows swimming

in more hormones than a Tour de France urinal, and pigs pumped to the back trotters with such volumes of ractopamine that just one pork scratching made Brexit hardman Steve Baker have his recurring anxiety hallucination about parachuting into Arnhem naked. They would sometimes

alight upon my victuals and leave their loathsome excrement behind, which to me was very visible, though not to the native Tories of that country, whose large optics were not acute in viewing details, like the impending Broxit precipice. It was the common practice

of local dwarf and weedership rival Rishi Sunak to catch these insects in his hand, and then release them into my little chamber, where they left me looking like a beekeepers apprentice, having failed to sting me; I remember I one day sat at my little table to eat a

traditional lunch of super-trawlered haddock, gambling chips, mushy GDPs and a pot of M&S scraps for twats, when above twenty wasps with the faces of hedge fund managers like Crispin Odey and Paul Marshall, allured by the smell of a festering economy, came flying, humming louder

than the drones of as many Alistair Campbell’s bagpipes, into court. They were each as large as one of the forty five million non-native pheasants dumped for shooting in the countryside each year, with stings five inches long and sharp as Therese Coffey’s eye for people in the

dole queue with new trainers on; having carried away my patriotic meal and confounded me with noise, I was put me in the utmost terror of their stings. I hid behind Allegra Stratton’s dole-hose, shaking with horror, crying, drenched in my own wretched guilt, wishing I had the

courage to rise and attack them, when all I had ever been good for was suckling the teets of wretched interests and supporting Sarah’s nascent K-Pop career. At the height of my terrors, King Falspaff appeared with his train of imbeciles stumbling behind. He winked at me, and said

“Mike, best just let them get on with it” to which I replied, uncharacteristically “Surely this isn’t in the national interest Boris?” and he guffawed “No, but it’s definitely in ours”

Thank you to esteemed wildlife photographer @Michelangela75 for capturing this stunning image