Well it’s that time again and what a year! It’s a job to know where to begin.
My boys have been busy with lots of jolly japes and getting themselves into all sorts of silly scrapes, but you know, I’m really so proud to be their ‘mother hen’.
Boris remains his usual big, bashing and blustering self. Never thinking before he speaks and always making an arse of himself. He really is a bit of a silly Billy sometimes and they say he’s after my job, but he’s such a lovely cuddly big teddy bear really and I know that’s just media mischief.
My little pixie Michael is back in Cabinet after his time on the naughty step. I think he’s learnt his lesson and will be keeping his nose clean now. But you know he’s such a cute little cheeky munchkin that I couldn’t stay angry with him for long.
Jacob, or Gussie as we all call him – Yo! one for the Wodehouse Massive there – is really such a wild guy although he does come across as a little serious and introverted. Sometimes I think I’d like to see him getting caught in flagrante delicto with a coke-snorting hooker just once. I think it would help to bring him out of himself.
I have had quite a year myself. I met Donald Trump in February. He’s odd as a bottle of biscuits and seems a tad self-obsessed. The kerfuffle he caused retweeting right wing hate propaganda hasn’t helped our special relationship, but hopefully this ‘bit of a do’ we’re having in his honour next year will keep things sweet.
Conference was a triumph and a welcome distraction from the General Election result (least said about that the better – LOL!) I thought my keynote speech went over really well and helped mollify the public’s worries about me as a strong and stable leader Shame about my cold and the set falling apart, but you can’t have everything.
Brexit continues to be a nuisance and I just hope dear old Dopey Davis finally stops faffing about and comes up with something to make us look as if we have even the vaguest clue of how to straighten out the bloody shambles Cameron left us in. That big shouty woman from Northern Ireland is becoming a total pain about it and I need to keep her and her gang of medieval morons happy or I could be out on my ear if not careful.
In closing I must mention my own Philip (May – not Hammond… ha-ha-ha) who has been such a tower of strength. I don’t know what I’d do without him. With his philanthropic hedge fund work saving billionaires absolute fortunes he’s just so selfless. He’s also had some good news too and landed himself a little part-time job as an Arthur Askey looky-likey, just for some champagne money. What a hoot!
There’s so much more I’d love to mention, but alas public duty calls, so I ho-ho-hope you all have a great Christmas and a smashing new year.
Theresa X X X