A man claims to have seen the arse of Boris Johnson in the liquefying tar of the A630 just outside Doncaster.
‘I was just coming back from Homebase, when the road became too sticky to drive on,’ bleated spam barista Martin Reckon. ‘I got out of the car ready to take evasive action - a sadface selfie and tweet to the Daily Mail’s “Readerswank” page - when I realised the shape of the puddle in the road looked eerily familiar. It was quite a shock - shows how quickly you adjust, even after two years of having them gleefully thrust in your face on a daily basis.’
Asked how he could be certain the asphalt-art was the oleaginous buttocks of currently absent PM and permanently absenting human being Johnson, Martin chuckled: ‘They’re as recognisable to me as the sunshine, or the smile on a newly ears-pierced toddler.
‘Who hasn’t seen those magnificent arse-mammaries squeezing through a straining zipwire harness, turning smartly away from an hypothermic pensioner, or lumping enthusiastically up and down on your girlfriend when you pop back upstairs to fetch your good glasses from the bedside table?
‘It was almost as if he was bidding me a very personal farewell, I’ll treasure it forever. It’s even better than the time I thought I saw his face in the margarine; though thinking back, I’m not entirely sure that wasn’t him simply hiding in my fridge.’