Enter Farmer Rish!. You might have thought Rishi Sunak was a typical member of the globalist metrosexual elite. Sharp suits and sharper elbows as he rode the Goldman Sachs gravy train to bet against sterling. A man whose main connection to the countryside was as a view to be enjoyed from the privacy of his own helicopter.
But no. It turns out that the prime minister is a man hewn from the soil. A sheep whisperer whose own circadian rhythms are in tune with the natural world. A politician who likes nothing more than to escape the grime of Westminster infighting to gaze at the unusable flooded fields that surround his constituency home while relaxing in his heated swimming pool.
