It is clear that Theresa May has become increasingly distracted of late. She apparently ‘forgot’ that she had called a general election, she wouldn’t turn up for debates because she had a zit, and the first draft of the Conservative manifesto was accidentally signed ‘Theresa Gove’. The woman is infatuated.
Now she has handed Michael Gove his big opportunity – putting him in charge of the UK’s environment, a move which has been welcomed by several fracking companies and Beelzebub.
Gove is the Commons bad boy, the lone wolf who plants his flag wherever it pleases him. New female MPs receive a secret briefing on their first day about ‘The Govester’, such is his sexual power. The condom machine in the House of Commons bar is known as the Govestopper. An insider, who declined to be named, told reporters that ‘Michael is the one we all fantasise about. He’s the one true rock star left in the Commons since John Major left.’
May is understood to have photoshopped Gove’s face onto a picture of Poldark scything with his shirt off. Sources close to the PM say that she has asked them to organise several frivolous trips with Gove – preferably overnighters – including recreationally closing orphanages, a planned trip to Yorkshire to harvest dalmation pelts, and a ‘totally unnecessary’ visit to Scotland, purely to gloat.
What these trips all have in common is that they pass close to wheatfields. May is believed to be obsessed with the idea of running hand in hand with Michael Gove through a wheatfield, before making sweet, passionate love despite the loss of agricultural productivity this might cause.
If he has any concerns about Philip May, Gove doesn’t show them. He is the survivor of several duels, where his technique – backstabbing his opponent as he starts his walk – has proved surprisingly effective. But what of the man behind the dagger? We tried to speak with his closest friends but they’re all dead. Or imaginary. Either way, they’re not talking.