Goveller’s Travels

Aug 27th

The affairs of Lilliput described.

After I had obtained my liberty a spite named Patel came to me. I lay down that she might the more conveniently reach my ear, but too quickly, it causing the kingdom to shake at an eight on the prickter scale.

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Said she “Govey, as flourishing a condition as we may appear to be in, we labour under a mighty evil and most potent enemy: foreigners”, and unfolded the threat. Tiny dinghies fleeing poverty and war, full of trouble making men, irrelevant women, and children, at least

half of whom were in danger of one day becoming men, were daily making shore to ask for help. As at home this was rightly denied, and they were instead offered temporary imprisonment and the chance to be sought out in hotels and humiliated by the nation’s leading wankers;

they were freed only if an activist lawyer put a spanner in the works by engaging the law, or they could prove definitively, without leaving their confinement, that they’d lost everything in a war, ideally that Lilliput hadn’t exported arms to. I mumbled something

about common-humanity but it was drowned out by a high-pitched squeak of ‘Tally Ho! Veni, Vidi, Vici!’ followed by his deputy-majesty Boris, unflatteringly harnessed, whizzing down a zipwire from his palace and halting before us like a despondent scrotum:

“What what Man-Mountain, a bit of scapegoating every now and then is perfectly harmless and can be jolly useful; if you condemn the new arrivals for draining the public-services, it stops the natives blaming us old boy!”. The Hollow Clown then turned to the five inch Patel.

‘The name’s Blonde, Blames Everyone Else Blonde. Fancy a ride?’ She assented, jumped into his open bingo wings and the cabinet of bribe-taking, dual-identitied, psychopathically-inclined, openly-hypocritical, professionally-incompetent and comprehensively-stupid careerists,

winched the pair back up the wire. I ate a handful of recently harvested M&Ms and reflected that there was malice in this blunderland. These tiny people reared on spurious tales of ancestral heroism were turning an unflinching spotlight from the powerful to the powerless in an

act as self-defeating as it was shameful; but I shall not anticipate the reader with further descriptions. Other than that the cabinet minimuses chosen exclusively for their capacity to lick the dog soil from Boris's hush puppies became distracted by some backhander or other, and

the line slackened sending the pair falling to earth; And I do believe, were in not for his cavernous boxer shorts deploying at the last, there they might have ended. It was a timely reminder that migrants and self-aggrandisers alike, we are all unified in death. Memento Tory.

Many thanks to @Michelangela75 for locating this image in the British library before it got cancelled by the Leftwaffe.