13th November 2019
Dear ‘Sir’ Nigel,
Sir? Hah! Only kidding…but you must admit it has a ring to it?
‘Delirium in Quim extant’ as my old housemaster used to say in his defence at his annual court appearance to face charges of ‘The misapplication of corporal punishment with relish and lubrication’.
To business. Our great friend and ally across the pond, has suggested we work together to crush marxism and to bring about a free market tax-exempt utopia here in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and America. I understand that you have visited him on numerous occasions and quite understand the motives of the man, and so you will be well placed to work with us, not against us, on our ‘Stuff the Frenchy’ endeavour. Your one and only published policy which aligns with ours of “Get Brexit Done” is one that resonates with our core voters, be they Tweed suited Old Empire Colonel Blimps in the Shires or the rabid faced Gammons in the North. Keep drinking those pints and smoking those cigarettes old boy, it goes down as well with the unwashed as does a coked-up rent boy in the toilets in the Carlton club.
The dream ticket – Me, You and the Donald. What could possibly go wrong? Dom says that all we have to do is tell a few ‘pussy’ jokes – talk about piccaninnies, apologise (they won’t notice) and then wink at the skirt in the crowd at rallies. They love it. Remember, never ever discuss policies except in the vaguest of terms such as our promise to provide “a few of your favourite things” such as rainbows and roses, peanut butter on toast, and to uphold ‘freedom’.
By the way, you might want to control some of your colleagues, I’m thinking of those with as much grip on reality as a doubly incontinent god-bothering fruitcake with a penchant for licking the flies off a three-day old dog turd and who has the gracefulness of a saddleback sow in a slurry pit.
You know who I mean (wink).
Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson.
PS Dom thinks you are a c*nt, but he’s ok really.