Goveller’s Travels

Tuesday 27th October

My nurse Therese Coffey being at the chamber pot, the window was open and I saw in the great Brobdingnag Channel a vessel the size of Parliament Hill doing donuts in the water. We knew straightway this clandestine channel threat was

serious when local MP Bob Seeley immediately left one of his lockdown breaking Wight Power BBQs to assess it. Seven impoverished and presumably desperate stowaways had turned on the unfortunate crew, but luckily for the armchair Rambos of Brobdingnag, this rather sad narrative

wasn’t going to get in the way of the nation’s broadcasters getting a collective SBS fuelled hardon at the thought of trained killers fast-roping from Chinooks under cover of darkness to neutralising the threat. They occasionally walked the narrative back to the actual facts,

but only after security correspondents had talked about Citadels, Maritime drill BPM5, and taken us through the Daily Mail cross-sections of ‘How it all unfolded’. The national weakness for men in night vision goggles had a power to unite Brobdingnagians in a way I hadn’t seen

since they lynched a monkey because they thought it was a spy, and even the otherwise sensible heads felt actual pride that Brobdingnag trained the best weapons operators on the planet, and they said macho things to each other like ‘The SBS don’t mess about’ and ‘headshot’ and

‘I bet those fucking illegals are already lawyered up’. Queen 'Fauxdica' Patel led her Wetherspoons Irregulars to the harbour; they were too late for the most one-sided battle since James Delingpole and the jam jar, so entertained themselves with burning effigies of barristers

instead. As the Super Boat Soldiers paraded the destitute captives in shackles that could never begin to emulate the metaphorical ones they had been born in, I looked into the haunted eyes of each group, and couldn’t help thinking that what everyone here really needed, was a hug.

STOP THE PRESS. This just in from @MrJunkerBarlow, a commemorative newspaper of the days events!