Carry On Up the Tories…

by Robert Shrimsley..I thought it amusing anyway.

What a shambles. We have seen a foreign secretary unable to speak without endangering the safety of a British national; an international development secretary forced to quit for illicit meetings with Israeli leaders; a defence secretary sacked for lunging at women, replaced by someone with no ministerial experience. Meanwhile we have a feuding cabinet and a prime minister devoid of authority. And the small matter of Brexit negotiations. This is more like a Carry On film.

[psssst..for those who don’t know, the new Defence Secretary has a pet tarantula on his desk which he shows off to visitors].

The scene: the home of Priti Patel, in her final days as international development secretary.

PP: Who’s at the door now?

Man: It’s Boris Johnson.

PP: We can’t let him see you. Quick under the bed.

Man: But I’m the Israeli prime minister.

PP: I don’t care if you’re the Queen of Sheba, get under the bed.

PP: (Looking out the window) It’s Theresa May. Phew. I thought it might be someone important. OK, Mr Netanyahu you can come out now. She’s gone. (The bell rings — it’s Boris Johnson)

PP: Quick Mr Netanyahu, into the cupboard.

PP: Oh Boris, how lovely to see you.

BJ: I saw a man in here. Looked just like Benjamin Netanyahu.

PP: Oh, that’s Sid. He’s come to fix the boiler. (pulls Netanyahu from cupboard)

BJ: I say, you’re the image of Benjamin Netanyahu.

BN: I hear that a lot.

BJ: And you have a limo outside.

BN: Yes, there’s good money in boilers.

PP: What do you want Boris?

BJ: Need to hide out. Bit of a cock-up about a British woman jailed in Iran. Got asked about her. I said she was training journalists when actually she was visiting her family. Now they might double her sentence.

PP: Didn’t you read the brief?

BJ: Briefing papers are for girls. Anyway, nil desperandum. It’s only four more years.

PP: Boris, the foreign secretary is supposed to be able to speak without endangering British nationals. (The doorbell again)

BJ: That’s her husband. Hide me.

PP: Under the bed. (She opens the door)

Man at door: I’m the Israeli defence minister.

PP: Go through to the kitchen. If anyone sees you, you’ve come to look at the damp.

BJ: (reappearing) Was it him?

PP: No, it’s a man from Rentokil. Reg this is Boris.

Man in kitchen: Shalom, guvnor. (The doorbell: It is Michael Fallon, still defence secretary) Michael, what are you doing here?

MF: Problem on the female front. Hiding from the PM.

PP: OK, wait in the toilet. (The prime minister arrives)

BJ: Cripes, it’s Matron.

TM: Ah Boris — what have you done to that woman in Iran?

BJ: Ah, er, yes, well cripes — um — Priti’s got the Israeli prime minister in the cupboard.

TM: What? Have you?

PP: I cleared it with the FO.

BJ: No she didn’t, and she’s got the Israeli defence secretary in the kitchen.

PP: Michael Fallon’s in the toilet.

TM: Michael, you’re fired. Liam Fox, trade secretary, arrives.

LF: Is there anyone I can talk to about trade?

PP: No one.

LF: I thought I saw the Israeli trade minister in the garden.

PP: But you can’t do any trade deals until we’ve left the EU.

LF: I can practise. Gavin Williamson, the new defence secretary, runs in, dressed in combat fatigues: Red alert. We’ve got a problem.

BJ: The Russians?

GW: No, my tarantula’s escaped.

TM: Is it dangerous?

GW: Lethal.

TM: Clever?

GW: Not especially.

TM: I think I’ll make it foreign secretary. Mrs May’s phone rings: It is Michel Barnier, the EU’s lead Brexit negotiator.

TM: Ah, hello Michel. Yes I know the deadline is looming. No, don’t worry we’ve got a crack team on the case.