Assuming Tim Shipman’s tweet is true, let’s do a quick #TheWeekInTory style tour of our (probably) new cabinet.
It is a thrilling prospect.
Margarine Thatcher. Gilead Commander’s wife who did three U-turns during her campaign, making Liz Truss a more effective opponent of Liz Truss than Rishi Sunak was. Is her own worst enemy, but that won’t last.
Elizabeth Truss is an anagram of Haziest Bluster.
Ex-Minister for Brexit, then Business, Energy and Growth. Those things are all going swimmingly, so now he’s Chancellor, despite being out of his depth on a sheet of graphene. I don’t know this for sure, so don’t quote me, but has “fall guy” tattooed on his balls.
Foreign Secretary, fresh from being the third education secretary in three days.
This stunningly successful one-man campaign to disprove nominative determinism is (little know fact) the original inspiration for the phrase “you couldn’t be more wrong”
Aiming for “new Priti Patel”, but landed on “Secret Squirrel struggling with ‘International Law for Dummies'”.
As Attorney General, said it’s ok to break laws, so is now Home Secretary in charge of da police.
Wup wup, that’s the sound of societal breakdown.
The former Chancellor made such an impression that he was sacked faster than any previous holder of the role. Is now Cabinet Office Minister, which is like being given consolation role of “third donkey” in a nativity play for people with head injuries.
Entirely featureless sentient thumb remains Defence Secretary as a reward for his brilliant work preventing Russia from overrunning Ukraine and then using oil to hold us to ransom.
Set stopwatch for him quitting when Truss tax cuts mean an end to help for Ukraine
Rees-Mogg, who is Nosferatu attempting to blend in at a Bible study group, announced on 6 July “I shall not serve under another PM”.
It is now 5 Sept, and new Business Minister Rees-Mogg’s longstanding adherence to truth and honour remain unimpeachable
Cigar-chomping Uncle Fester impersonator, and all we’ve come to expect from a Tory health minister: backs privatising the NHS, smokes, drinks, is clinically obese, and only last week was accused of hiding 9 reports into needless deaths her last dept had caused
A mouse fart made flesh and shoved into a suit, primarily to make the wallpaper seem interesting by comparison. He is the nonentity’s nonentity, and as such is the ideal man to continue the goverment’s flagship policy of doing nothing detectable about Levelling Up.
Quite literally the mad woman in the attic, the be-twattled, froth-weight Nadine remains Culture Secretary, despite having seemingly been plucked at random from a brawl outside a kebab shop. Trapped forever at Lambrini o’clock.
Iain Duncan Smith
Whispering abomination who once posed next to a fake billboard boasting “It rains less under the Tories”. So thick you can stand a spoon up in him, which in this government qualifies him to be Leader of the House of Commons.
IDS is the reason the acronym FFS exists
A shaved Afghan hound who once – I’m genuinely not making this up – asked if he could re-record a interview that was *being broadcast live* because in the middle of it he forgot what country he lives in.
Is now Chief Secretary to the Treasury. Alcohol is your friend.
New NI Secretary has recently taken to wearing a beard in the forlorn hope it will make it easier to differentiate him from a furiously glaring feral testicle.
His smiles look like he’s had the concept patiently explained to him, but has never seen it in person.
Is Scottish minister on the throw of a dice, since there are literally only 6 Scottish Tories.
Has the bearing of a man who weeps every time he’s alone, in the knowledge his own party thinks he shouldn’t exist, and his own country despises him for doing so.
Tom split his leadership campaign between promising a “clean break” from the fetid Johnson team, and reminding us hourly that he’s a soldier with rigid ethics.
Is now in a cabinet with all of Johnson’s fetid team.
How’s that uniform, Tom? Medals nice and shiny?
And a quick In Memoriam of all the people you so desperately want to forget, but who – in only a few days time – you’ll fondly remember as being so much more competent, ethical and packed with practical solutions than the new cabinet.
The chef from Ratatouille having a go at being a lifestyle coach after the rat abandoned him.
Spent the entire one-thousand-year leadership campaign insisting Truss was a dangerous moron who would ruin the nation. Now supports her per cent. Kewl. Kewl.
A 3D printout of Captain Pugwash who (bafflingly) failed to impress Truss with her quite genuine admission that her greatest weakness is delegating jobs to her cat.
Somehow this makes her even LESS qualified than howling dipsomaniac flapdoodle Nadine Dorries.
Thick-necked, box-faced, Etch-a-Sketch thunderc*nt who stood in for the PM when Johnson was too pissed or shag-happy to turn up. Which was pretty much constantly.
His career peaked when he – genuinely – managed to resign in protest at his own achievements.
A conspicuously sniffing shite-in-sheep’s-clothing.
Gove has withdrawn to the backbenches, so now the crepuscular, backstabbing vowel-strangler can focus on his new career cosplaying as a beached mudskipper who has been dressed in boy clothes for a laugh.
The trundling, razor-faced Mouth of Sauron has given up on her life’s work of acting like a Netto Bond villain and being performatively awful to drowning foreigners, so is finally available for the lead role in “Young Frankenstein: What Frau Blücher Did Next”
No room in cabinet for the brains of European Research Group who, in 30 years, didn’t manage to research how to leave the EU without f*cking up the country.
Still has the ever-so-pleased air of a man who desperately wants you to ask if he’s solved his Rubik’s cube.
Supernaturally incompetent lurching tower of wrong with the teeth of an exhumed donkey. Nadine Dorries is in the cabinet, yet dumbfungled spider fetishist Williamson isn’t, which tells you all you need to know about his capability.
They knighted him.
And a final farewell to the horny Honey Monster, a one-man game of Shag/Marry/Avoid who drove the country of a cliff for a laugh, brushes his hair with a toffee apple, and spent his time in office blundering around like a haunted bin-bag full of custard and viagra
If you like this kind of thing you might enjoy my book, out next month, which tears the living shit out of them all for a decade.
And as an added bonus, you can burn it for warmth, and it’s thick enough to use as a barricade when it all kicks off.