• Jean Rafferty



26th November 2020

From: Human Resources Department

To: Prime Minister

Dear Prime Minister,

The team and I have been mulling over how to proceed in the future when the pandemic is over - we've gained lots of powers and see no need to squander progress by giving them back.

Our first modest proposal is, I'm afraid, yet another hommage to the lovely Nicola Poppins, whose suggestion of fully postal elections in Jockistan next year lit up multiple pleasure centres in our collective brain.

We've seen from the American elections how letting people vote by post means you get a much bigger turnout. It also means you can slip in whole boxes of votes without anyone noticing. Not that I'm suggesting this is what unseated our friend, The Trumpster - it's doubtless just a coincidence that the majority of votes that came in by post when the polling stations closed were for the Democrats.

Or maybe not. The Democrats are just like the Labour Party here - lazy people too shiftless to get off their behinds and go to the polling station. No wonder they vote for Sleepy Joe - they think he'll give them something for nothing.

Either way, it's a splendid example for us here in the UK of how to move forward. We've already made so much progress towards a peaceful future where bolshie leftists will simply be cold-shouldered, no-platformed and denied the whip - goodbye and good riddance to nuisance politics from the likes of Corbyn and Ferrier. With people like them out of the way we can get on with what we do best - selling arms to the rich countries of the world so they can keep control of their borders. Just because they're filthy rich doesn't mean we should leave the Saudis in the lurch where the defence of their country is concerned. The fact that the Yemenis haven't got the means to fight back doesn't mean they don't want to.

It's time for us to grasp the nettle and crack on with taking the demos out of democracy - as a Classics scholar you'll remember from school that in Greek, democracy is rule by the people, demos. Old Snorkel wittered on about it all the time, though I can't for the life of me remember why he thought it was such a good idea. Where on earth do you think he got those goggles he wore? Speccy git.

Democracy doesn't really belong in a country like ours. It's been an experiment and we have to accept it didn't work. A short-lived experiment, actually, not even a hundred years if you take it from when the fillies got the vote, in 1928. Time to bin it, if you ask me. We have a perfectly good system in place now - a monarch with no power and control in the hands of the people best suited to wield it, old Etonians and their chums.

It's not as if we're an exclusive bunch - we'll accept funding from any old billionaire, oligarch or hedge fund manager. Our Leader's Group, which you've done so much to restore after the dismal May regime, is impeccably diverse - we break bread with Russkis, Saudis, women, and even Jews.

You couldn't see the anti-semites in the Labour Party giving dear old Ehud Sheleg a knighthood, could you? Keir Starmer making him Sir Alka Seltzer? I don't think so. They'd probably object to him dissolving so many companies when it's just good business practice to streamline unprofitable parts of any corporate empire.

We, on the other hand, are open to international relations all over the world, not just with tired old Europe, so we can see the sense of stashing companies in the British Virgin Islands in a way the Labour proles can't. The key word there is British, Prime Minister. (Or perhaps it's stashing?)

Your own personal charm and bonhomie are alien to that bunch of stiff-necked virtue signallers, which is why the private dinners and drinks bashes have been so successful in raising money for the party. (The Party, makes us sound as if we're bloody Communists, though, as we know from our Moscow mates, none of the Russkis are commies any more anyway.)

Personally I would have paid 120 grand not to have won dinner with Michael Gove and Sarah Vine at the auction, but each to their own. (Just kidding, of course, PM. You know my irreverent sense of humour. Old Donkey's no doubt much more fun than he seems if the five in a bed romp tale is to be believed. His dear consort is a fine looking woman who doesn't look averse to a bit of rumpy-pumpy, so perhaps he has more assets than are immediately visible.)

To be honest, though, I have to say the 500 bird pheasant and partridge shoot would be a much jollier prize. More useful too, as the Gover (or should I call him Govey, the nickname he gave himself?) won't have as much influence now his chum, Dombo, has departed government. Well, not government, of course, as he wasn't elected, but you know what I mean.

By the way, on the subject of nicknames, did you know that the Iranians don't quite know what to call Keir Starmer, as his name in Farsi means bell-end, or tip of the penis? So no change there then, har har.



Images by Tiburi and SplitShire, courtesy of Pixabay

14 views0 comments