"Thus do we ever make you fools our purse:
For Tories own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If we would time expend with plebians.
But for my sport and profit. I hate you all:
And it is thought abroad, our sick elites
Are but leeching sophists: I know that it be true;
For I know men of Eton in that kind,
Who never parted puberty. They hold you low;
The better shall their purpose work on you.
Boris’s a shag-worn man: let me see now:
To get his place and to plume up my will
In double knavery--How, how? Let's see --
After some time, to abuse politicos’ ears
That he is too familiar with their lives.
He hath a hundred thousand dead disposed;
Would they reflect it?
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of rotting daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Browning and dying in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Shrivelled there dead in flyblown dance.
Flag wavers with them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling Brexit glee:
A Leaver could not but be gay,
In such festering company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
My parents are eating different things at different times. I am eating six meals a day because I don’t want to hurt their feelings.
We had our measles jabs at school today. Dr Whitty came to give them out during
double maths. Mr Hancock insisted he administer the doses using the syringes his neighbour made out of Meccano and repurposed Christmas tree decorations. Des Swayne in 4C went mental and started screaming “You’re not putting that shit in me, wake up sheeple,
its all part of the plandemic, they’re injecting microchips from Amstrad computers and we’re all going to end up in a Treasure Island Dizzy computer game”. In the end the PE teachers Mr Mercer and Mr Tugendhat had to put him in a choke hold until Dr Van Tam had injected it.
Michael Gove went on local radio to talk about our school this morning. We listened over breakfast. He lied a lot and contradicted everything he had said when he went on last time, but he was swanning around the playground
at break like David Essex, bragging that he could sell ice to the Eskimos or off-shore tax arrangements to Tory donors. So at lunch Barry Kent graffitied ‘Michael Gove is the universe boss’ on Mr Johnson’s Nissan Prairie to see if he could talk his way out of that.
Michael Gove has been suspended. He is making me go to his house at lunchtime to report on any political manoeuvering in the playground. I missed my lunch, but Mrs Coffey the dinner lady was very kind and kept my meal hot for me. Four Scotch Eggs. She
Mr Starmer the head of the PTA says we’re all going to have to eat turnips every day because Mr Johnson hasn’t been able to negotiate a new fish tank since we left the local education authority. Mr Johnson says
that’s fine because he’s still headmaster.
Mother wouldn’t give me a note to get out of sports today so I left my sports clothes at home. The PE teacher Mr Mercer made me run home to get them. The dog followed me out of the house. When I got to school it
joined in the football lesson. Even Mr Mercer was laughing until it punctured the ball. Then he shot it.
Laurence Fox in the lower sixth is in trouble because he invited loads of his annoying friends into the common room during the nits outbreak. Everyone is saying
The nits outbreak at school hasn’t got any better. Mr Johnson said he was replacing the system of locking us down at break, with a tier system of locking us up at break instead.
Mother is reading a book called The Female Touch. She says it’s a book that changes your life. It hasn’t changed mine, but I only looked quickly.
I had my first wet dream! It was about Malcolm Muggeridge. My mother was right, the book has changed my life.
Mr Rees-Mogg the RE teacher gave us a lecture on celibacy today. He said doing illogical things for dogmatic reasons was as normal as having a nanny in your forties and was the reason why Britain is great. He also said it was why all the bus drivers in the queue
I had to visit the old man Steve Baker again. He had barricaded himself in his toilet and kept shouting “This is Sparta” until I passed him a roll of Izal toilet paper.
Rishi Sunak the swanky prefect
published his school spending review today. He said that because of the nits outbreak that Mr Johnson ignored, and because we’re leaving the local authority on the 1st of January, we’re all going to have to pay a daily pound from our dinner money into the senior staff holiday
fund. I think Mr Starmer the head of the PTA was going to object, but he was distracted by his ongoing battle with the retired woodwork tutor Mr Corbyn about whether or not he was still allowed to park his 2CV in the teacher’s bays.
I got up at 6 a.m. today to start my new paper round. I’m delivering on Tufton Street. The papers they read are the heavy, racist ones. Just my luck!
Michael Gove has started a new gang at school called
COBRA. He gets loads of dorks together in Mr Whitty’s chemistry lab at lunch and they pretend to be important. Matt Hancock took a mouthful of gas from the Bunsen-burner tap and lit it with a match to show off. I know because I was hid
underneath a desk watching. I had to wait for the paramedics to stretcher Matt out before I could leave so I was late for geography and Miss Truss gave me a detention.
I took the wrong newspapers today. I don’t know why people were so angry. Why can’t they just accept
Mr Johnson gave an assembly saying that the special measures for the nits outbreak had worked so we could go back to mixing at lunchtime. He was scratching his head a lot.
I’m in a group at school that helps elderly people. I got an old man called Steve Baker. He is 49 which doesn’t seem very old, but Andrew Bridgen in 5C lives next door and says he’s always shouting about Angela Rippon out of his bathroom window.
My father took me to Mr Baker’s house this evening. When I knocked on the door a dog started barking and I heard bottles and a man shouting loudly. I ran away. I hope it was the wrong house.
I saw Michael Gove sniffing glue in the bus stop with Matt Hancock
I went to Michael Gove’s house on my chopper and demanded to know why he betrayed me with Pandora. He told me he didn’t know what I was talking about, but I didn’t believe him because Pandora
was sat on his lap at the time. stroking his thigh and calling him her ‘little gastropod’.
Nov 23rd 1985
Pandora doesn’t sit next to me in Geography anymore. Priti Patel does. She blows bubblegum in my ear.
Priti Patel said she would hit me if I didn’t give her
50 pence every day. I told her she was wasting her time because I was a maverick superforecaster who did not have time for such mundane abstract ideas as money. Then she hit me in the goolies. I told Mr Johnson the Headmaster and he said he would investigate after he’d
That's the last time I go to a Disco. Everybody there was a punk except me and Matt Hancock. Toby Young was showing off all night. He said only 1% of DIY piercings go wrong, then he ended up putting a safety-pin
through his ear. Father had to take him to hospital in our car.
There is a new boy at school called Michael Gove. He is a total sycophant who lies about everything and contradicts himself from one sentence to the next. I think I will be best friends with Michael Gove.
I went to Michael Gove’s house after school. We looked at his slug collection and I confessed that I loved Pandora. Then we played Monty Mole on his Commodore 64 and he showed me a program he'd made cataloguing every lie he's ever told. He calls it his traitorbase.
Nigel came over on his new bike this morning. It has a water bottle, speedometer and cigarette cards of all his favourite SS Officers in the spokes. It's wasted on him. He only uses it to Stockton looking for immigrants.
The dog went beserk during the 6pm news. Nicholas Witchell reported that Europeans had signed something called a Shengen Treaty and Contra started barking and broke my Airfix Barnard Castle. I wanted to kick him, but mother said I must wait until his stitches are out.
Watched the Royal Variety Performance. It got so hot when Max Bygraves serenaded the Queen Mother that everyone apart from Prince Andrew fanned themselves with a program. Mother says he's been unable to sweat ever since he realised he’d need an alibi 36 years from now.
3.3 million people are unemployed. This is good. It means their children will not become pliant consumer drones who go to Woolworths after school without the thwarted intellectual in their form.
During Minder, father examined the sludge at the bottom of his cup-a-soup and foretold that I would one day drive the length of the A1 without stopping for a wee. Mother gave a hollow laugh and asked if his souperforcasting predicted how the electric was getting paid.
My bladder hurts. Father made me drink three bottles of Lucozade before bed and then locked the toilet. He said I’ll thank him for it one day, but I went to the three loo times during home economics and now Barry Kent and his gang are calling me Princess Nut Nuts.
Now I know I'm an intellectual. I saw Malcolm Muggeridge on the TV last night and I understood nearly every word. It all adds up. Self-regard, no friends, not liking punk. I think I will join the library and see what happens
Our Labrador ‘Contra’ is back from the vets. It keeps licking its stitches, so I sit with my back to it as I don’t like to look at shaved dog testicles when I’m having my massive thoughts. Mother made it a bed out of one of the cardboard box
food parcels we intercepted and hid from the striking miners.
I had an idea so huge this afternoon, that my brain didn’t remember any of it.
Today I tipped the dog out of his box and replaced it with my four-colour retractable biro and a Sartre book which
The governors of Brobdingnag were struck with horror at the thought of a plague vaccine, for it meant the time of bung in cheek government handing out remarkable sums of public money to friends and admirers was drawing to an
end. Sensing their despair, I explained that in my own realm, instead of the much maligned ‘vaccines’, which were in fact nano-technologies used by Bill Gates to microchip recipients into believing the lamestream media, we offered enema’s of despair, which proved very
effective inoculations against unrealistic expectations of competent rule; hence the etymology of the venerable name Tory, from suppository. But Humpty Dumpty understudy Matt Hancock expressed amazement that an impotent and grovelling insect as myself could entertain
With the fall of Trump, Brobdingnag sprung back to life, revising its existential threat level down from nuclear winter, to the more familiar and summery, global warming. With an IRA sympathiser like the one he had just put in the
House Lords now President of the United States, King Boris’s rock solid Broxit trade plans had taken a hit, as if they were based on nothing but a flooded Kent lorry park, John Redwood's fish fetish, and Liz Truss’s emoji hustle. Concerned that being a bit dishevelled and
knowing some Latin weren’t going to be enough to see him to the end of his reign, and with conspirators gathering like self-styled libertarians on flawed science or red wall Tories around a scapegoat, he asked me to satisfy how I myself “Did so succesfully plead causes