By Eddie Edwards
It’s an ongoing tradition at this fine publication that when given a terrible assignment it comes with a bottle of hard liquor to help ease the creative process. So when I found a crate of rum in my office my first thought was that I was being sent to Syria. Unfortunately things were actually much worse.
“We need you to cover the Conservative leadership election.” Came the voice of my editor from behind the locked door of his office as I tried to hammer the thing down.
“No. Anything but that!” I yelled as a wave of existential dread shuddered through my body.
“UKIP are having a leadership battle as well.” Came the reply.
“Fuck.” I responded.
“Also Brexit has depressed everyone and we don’t want any of our readers killing themselves, it’ll really hit our circulation. Try to put a positive spin on the whole thing.”
That was five days ago, I’ve not left my office and the rum has run out. Fortunately after the first round of votes I can finally put a positive spin on this thing.
We only have a one in three chance of having a homophobe as Prime Minister. Yay. Huzzah. Let the streets be filled with dancing, joy, and the laughter of children.
For those not aware of this the first round of voting has removed the possibility of either Stephen Crabb or Liam Fox running this country further into the ground. Both of these gentlemen, sorry I mistyped there I meant bastards, voted against marriage equality in a spectacular attempt to get on the wrong side of history. Crabb cited his deeply held Christian beliefs, beliefs that don’t stop him from being an active member of a party that actively wants to shut down the NHS and punish the poor; you know, like what Jesus would do.
Fox, meanwhile, called the idea “absurd”. Fox, you may recall, was forced to resign his post as Secretary of Defence after it turned out he’d actually had lobbyist Adam Werritty living in his fucking house. It would actually be significantly better if he’d just been fucking Werritty, rather than taking him into MOD facilities he didn’t have clearance for on twenty-two separate occasions. Also, just looking at Liam Fox it seems pretty clear that he’s going to end his life with stockings on, an orange full of amphetamines in his mouth, and call to the police from an emotionally damaged rent-boy.
So anyway, with those two out of the running we’re left with Theresa “I want to privatise the police” May, the possessed child’s toy from a Stephen King novel that is Michael Gove and Andrea Leadsom, a talented up-and-coming bastard that abstained from the ballot on marriage equality due to being wrong about things.
So May, now with the support of Stephen Crabb, is the current front runner for the post despite her view that the administrative side of the UK’s thin blue line should be handled by a private company. Some of you may remember that a privatised police force is a significant part of the plot of Paul Verhoeven’s nineteen-eighty-seven science fiction masterpiece RoboCop. If Theresa May was trying to usher in an era of robotic super-cops I’d respect the ever-loving shit out of her but I think it has much more to do with the fact that G4S will no doubt be awarded the contract. A company that her husband is rumoured to be a shareholder in. Although G4S did deny he owned any shares in the company shortly after she announced her candidacy. Something they, her and her husband failed to deny at any point prior to this (I’m guessing that he offloaded them in the run-up to this and will be welcomed back with open arms following her run as PM). Worthy of note is that G4S has faced constant criticism as for its involvement in the human rights abuses carried out in Israeli prisons against Palestinian detainees. So regardless of whether or not May and her husband are involved in the company, keeping them the fuck away from our police force seems like a bang up idea.
Next up is relative newcomer, Andrea Leadsom, who was part of the leave campaign, but also has the key advantage of not being Michael Gove. She’s also not been around long enough to accrue the usual collection of failure and scandal that attaches itself to most Conservative politicians. In fact a cursory search around the internet turns up worryingly little. She puts family first, loves Thatcher, God and apparently is a big believer in social justice. Social justice. In the Conservative party… No I’m not even going to attempt to unpack that one without more rum. This however does mean that Leadsom is that most terrifying of beasts, the unknown. With all unknowns there is a chance she’ll be brilliant, but frankly with this country’s current luck and her wish to get this whole Brexit show on the road, it seems likely that, at best, she’ll make some inexperienced decisions and worsen the whole affair – and at worst she’ll be a genuinely malignant force for evil.
Finally there’s Michael Gove. Hilarity ensues. Or hilarity-in-shoes. Shoes that make you slip over and fall on your arse in front of a hidden camera man, you prick.
Sorry but Mr. “I Think We’ve Had Enough of Experts”, who was also a prominent rider of what I’m terming ‘the bus of lies’, or maybe ‘the bullshit-mobile’, probably doesn’t have chance of winning this thing. Especially given that looking and behaving like a human person is considered an essential skill in a politician. In all honesty the only person really taking his run seriously right now is him. He’s just spent the last three months having his credibility trashed by his enemies, the internet and a sitting Prime Minister. That’s not something that a regular person could bounce back from let alone the offspring of Pob and a wooden top. You know what this entire thing is so depressing I’m going to fill my wordcount by cruelly and unfairly savaging Gove’s appearance.
Gove looks like he’d get sold for a pack of cigarettes in prison. Gove looks like a ventriloquist’s dummy got possessed by the spirit of an even less realistic ventriloquist’s dummy. Gove looks like someone inflated a schoolboy from the great depression. Gove looks like he’d apologise to his rapist for not being more attractive. Gove looks like he’s needs to kill Harry Potter to get his real body back. Gove looks like the bad guy from a Resident Evil game that no-one wants to play. Gove looks like he lives in toytown and gets bullied by Noddy and Big Ears. Gove looks like the melted wax-work of a shit Stannis Baratheon. Gove looks like he is eaten by after mating. Gove looks like what happens when you throw jizz and a sock puppet into that teleporter from the Fly.
[Editor’s Note: This actually goes on for 19 pages most of them in crayon that Eddie had shoved under the door of his office with the words Fuck Off scrawled across the front. We threw another bottle of rum in and made good our escape. The Daily Rail advocates drinking responsibly… most of the time.]