"Christ, is that the time?" gasped Arthur, tumbling out of his tomb under Glastonbury Tor and donning his chainmail in a panic.
"I promised to return and save Britain if ever it were in dire peril," muttered the once and future king, girding Excalibur and taking a quick slug of coffee from the Holy Grail.
"Now look what I've done. I dozed off here on the Isle of Avalon and slept right through the catastrophic administrations of Boris, May, Truss and Starmer.
"God knows how those duffers have screwed up the country while I slumbered. I doubt even a messianic figure like myself could sort out the wasteland they've left behind them."
"Ni!" said Sir Jacob Rees-Mogg, one of the Boris-made knights who like to say Ni, as the saviour-king emerged into 21st-century Britain.
"Look who it is! That dreadful oik, King Arthur."
image from pixabay
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