All across the land the emergency alarm went off. Oliver Dowden had been appointed deputy prime minister. The harsh metallic tone of the mobile phone sounded suspiciously like the rattle of a barrel being scraped bare. Metal on metal. There’s not an ounce of talent left in the Tory party. If it was a circus elephant you’d put a bullet in its head and have done with it. A kindness.
Dominic Skeletor Raab is gone, currently preparing to spend more time with the sentient throbbing vein in his head that tells him who can live and who must die. The Conservative response to Raab’s transgressions is not to make sure ministers stop bullying civil service staff, but instead to recruit only party loyalists who will be grateful for the honour of being shouted at by a top Tory, rather than kicking up a fuss. Those wet wipes! Those silly bitches!
