Arm in arm, two women happily danced, celebrating their booty, while all around went about their lives, numbed and scarred,yet again, bereft of hope and belief. How gullible, these British...Yes, the Prime Minister the country doesn't want, Theresa May, and her latest abettor, Arlene Foster, the DUP leader nobody knows, were off to paint the town - quite what colour remains unclear.
But to dance, to party though the mire, to celebrate the Conservative shuffle in their dazzling footwear and dire blouses, to laugh out loud at the dumbness of the British electorate, that feeble-minded mob, who voted for one thing and, well...how gullible, these British.
May and Foster were in ecstasy. Gazing at the dark skies, they toasted the folly of fate, those lucky dice cast against the public. The two made plans for later, much later, after all this power and cheating was over. Yes, they would launch a new range of wallpaper (May and Foster Drapes). But first to business, first there was work to do, work they had not been asked to carry out, but what the hell. How gullible, these British. They considered the future of their own parties,and then, briefly, the future of Britain.
"A billion, pounds, Arlene?"
"Ooohhh thank you, Theresa, that should do the trick. If only Ian could see us now. He'd be so happy. I can just imagine, begorrah...sorry, that sort of slipped out.."
"Here's to strong and stable lies, Arlene." May raised her glass. "I'll drink to that, you devious little banshee..."
May reached for her mobile. Yes she would have that Cabinet room redocorated...Paisley indeed...what a beautiful design... with a hint of Hades apricot...How gullible, these British...