It’s a quiet time for British politics at the moment, what with Parliament in recess for the summer holidays because there’s nothing important for them to do for a few weeks.
Bryntin thought it would be a good time to contact his highly placed mole (the chandeliers needed dusting), the undercover – and other covers – cleaner of the PM’s office. If indeed he’s in the PM’s office and this isn’t some elaborate set-up involving that nice man from the internet firm Cambridge Analytica who came to sort out Bryntin’s connection and Colins’ bosses, the Risski Russki Cleaning & Pest Control Services (Moles a Speciality!)
For security, Colin’s code name this time is Doris. Bryntin was going to go with Dick but thought that might get confusing for overseas readers if Dick referred to Johnson, and we wouldn’t want to get your Johnsons and Dicks mixed up, especially as most of this blog is bollocks and also often contains Hunts.
The chat takes place on the app WhatsApp, a text based communication method that is so secure that I can only present what was said because I learned how to take screenshots from searching for it on Google, where there were 28 million results in 0.03 seconds.
Bryntin: Morning Doris. We haven’t spoken since you got a new incumbent in the office. How are things?
Doris: You mean Boris?
Bryntin: No, Doris. If I could speak to Boris there’d be no need for you, would there?
Doris: No, Boris is the new incumbent.
Bryntin: I know.
Bryntin: How are you sighing in a text app?
Doris: It’s a special power granted by artistic licence.
Anyway, let’s not talk of Boris, that’s a name he cultivates his ‘slightly bonkers’ eccentric ordinary chap image with, to distract from the fact his real one is Alexander Boris de Pfeffle Johnson and he has, as he called it ‘Euro toff’ heritage.
Doris: Shall we just call him Johnson then?
Bryntin: I think so. And hope nobody will be a dick about it.
Doris: Well, it’s been all change in the offices of course. There’s been much bagging of offices and debagging of each other going on. Honestly, it’s been like an Oxford union bar in here at times.
Bryntin: There’s some um.. interesting people in the Cabinet now.
Doris: Well, interesting is one way of putting it. Probably ‘Senior Members of Quasi-Religous Brexit Believers Union’ would be another.
Bryntin: SMQRBBU? Nah, can’t make that in to a good acronym…
Doris: Probably looks fine in Russian.
Anyway, they’re all out being positive and officially believing like they’ve always done, no matter how they were morally unable to vote for, believe in and be positive about anything before.
Foreign Secretary Raab’s on an Americas tour somewhere, testing how long Canadians can stay polite for I believe. Home Secretary Patel’s at home working out how to make 20,000 new policeman out of two lumps of plasticine and seven quid and the Trade Minister Truss is doing negotiations about how many rules the US won’t have to follow when they take over the NHS because she believes rules are as disgusting as cheese exports.
Doris: I thought we weren’t doing Johnson jokes?
Bryntin: No, Hancock, the Health Secretary?
Doris: Oh, he’s trying to add two and two together to see if he can make £1.8 billion for the NHS, you know, like Johnson can.
Bryntin: Tricky, seeing as it was only money they already had because some of them saved spending money before anyway.
So what’s the PM himself doing? Apart from being inordinately proud of how much money he’s found in Theresa May’s old biscuit tin she’d buried at the bottom of the magic money tree and threatening to bypass the Parliament we’re taking back control of?
Doris: He’s touring the country, promising there’s not going to be an election and inventing even more great sounding amounts of money to spend wherever he happens to be that day.
Bryntin: That just sounds like the sort of thing that a PM does do just prior to an election.
Doris: Yes, and it’s just everyone else just has to explain where he got it from, he can just do the inventing. He loves it, he can make anything up, he gets away with it, even when it doesn’t sound like it’s remotely possible.
Sorry Bryntin, I have to go. Dominic Cummings is around and he’s promised to sack anybody found leaking stuff in the office. I’ve just leaked something.
Bryntin: Hang on, this isn’t that sensitive surely?
Doris: No, not really, it’s just my bucket’s got a hole in it.
Come back next time when Bryntin will probably have bought his mole a new bucket.