Nervous voters reluctant to cast their votes for anything vaguely left-wing, have been surprised to wake up to the prospect of Boris Johnson as PM and Nigel Farage as their new proctologist. Being befuddled by a jam-making hippy is one thing, but the electorate has failed to notice an unelected, self-confessed racist and fraudster getting the keys to No.10 – although, you know, ‘jam’, who doesn’t worry about jam?
A sociologist explained: ‘It happens with primitive lifeforms, where an animal gets distracted by ephemera – an interesting stool sample, for instance – but doesn’t spot the sabre-toothed tiger about to take him to lunch. It’s like throwing a dog a bone into threshing machine or offering Nick Clegg a fancy office, while raising student fees.’
One hospitalized Centrist, who walked down the middle of the motorway, was soon hit by traffic in both directions: ‘I was just worried about all those tax-avoiding billionaires who were threatening to take their money out the UK. Then it hit me – not the thought that none of them had money in the UK in the first place – but the bus, the bus hit me, the big red one, driven by Boris’.
The sociologist confirmed: ‘This is fairly typical behaviour; it’s the holiday equivalent of worrying about stepping on a crab, while a shark bites off your leg. If you’re concerned about Labour renationalising. Southern Rail, true, socialists don’t have a great track record of getting trains to run on time, whereas Mussolini…’