Here's the latest diary of Rupert St John-Fontaine, adviser at the Department for Social Affairs...
MONDAY
THE Irish question, it seems, is destined to stalk every Conservative Government until the end of time. And so the PM has convened a special We Need to Talk About Ireland weekend at Chequers.
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the bloody Irish wreck Brexit,” he says. “How can we take back control when we don’t even have it in our own back yard?”
The responses round the table prove that Irish history didn’t feature much in the Eton curriculum. “Why can’t we just agree a deal with the Irish Republic which will require them to hand back some of the northern counties like County Donegal and em, and em County Kelly and Brendanstown which they took from us in the 1960s,” suggests Raab. “Then, et voila, there’s an immediate Catholic majority and we organise a quick referendum. Bob’s your uncle and Fanny’s your auntie … Ireland is re-unified. After that we just get the UN to open a branch office there for a few years,” he says.
Dopey Williamson breenges in. “And then we could just send in a few gunboats to take back the whole of Ireland to keep the Unionists sweet, reform the Black and Tans and bribe the Dubliners with some whisky and sheep.”
TUESDAY
THERE’S been another Cummings bombshell. Seems that little weasel had got Williamson high on Smarties and Jellytots last year and filled his head with nonsense about Ireland. He then persuaded Williamson to send a WhatsApp message to the PM.
“Think we need to invade Ireland. It’s not much bigger than the Falklands and their land forces are worse than the Argies.” The PM, thinking that Williamson is joking, responded: “Yes, and we could transport the malcontents on prison ships to Australia and make it part of the trade deal.”
WEDNESDAY
PRESIDENT Biden has been on the phone. Samantha in Downing Street Comms says she’s never seen the PM look so upset. “He looked worse than when he got that EasyJet flight home from Milan after Berlusconi’s Bunga Bunga party.” Biden can trace his roots to a homestead in Waterford and claims he had relatives “inside the Post Office”.
The Dublin Post Office in 1916 must have been the most crowded place on earth. He threatens to send warships to patrol the Ring of Kerry and impose a blockade on all UK shipping to the Americas. “We’ll turn the UK into the Cuba of the north,” he thunders.
“It’s all been, ah, um, a misunderstanding, ah, Mr President. Ireland for the Irish, what. Rock on Rockall you’ll never fall and all that.”
THURSDAY
THE wicked witch of the North (The PM’s nickname for Sturgeon) has been on the phone and I’ve been ordered to arrange a secret meeting in Carlisle between the two of them. Seems she’s intent on passing a law that will require 10% of all men in Scotland to become women by means of a National Lottery style selection process. “Um, I ah, thought that had, um, already happened, judging by the, ah, um performances, of your, ah, um national football, team, Nicola, what,” replied the PM jocularly.
“Ah am verra verra serious abut thus, Prrrrime Meeenisturrr surrr. We need to show suladarrity with the trrransgendurr minority who huv suffurrred duscrumunashon furr too long. And by the way, drop yur sexist attitude or else.”
Seems Scotland’s wily First Minister is proposing to kick all talk of an independence referendum into the long grass in exchange for Boris telling the Pope to stay out of the gender debate by bribing him with a few Ming vases for the Vatican art collection. “I ah, think your, ah, estimate of my ah, influence with His Pontiface is, ah, somewhat on the, um, optimistic side, First Minister.”
FRIDAY
SLEEPY Hancock is kicking up hell about the Cummings’ WhatsApp messages. “How dare you call me “f*****g hopeless”? You were the one who wanted to give everyone north of Birmingham the virus – and I quote – ‘to help speed up the herd immunity process.’ And I’ve got the WhatsApp messages to prove it.”
This turns out to be the least of our problems. Seems that Cummings has a few more WhatsApp grenades to chuck. Not the least of them is this one which a vengeful Hancock handed over to him: “I think the time has come for something to be done about rat-boy. Have one of the Russians start brewing the old Salisbury Soup and get up to Durham pronto.”
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