Suella Braverman got a speeding ticket, so now she has to be punished.
A new and lofty Royal Order has been issued by King Charles-in-Charge himself, saying that Suella must walk as slowly as possible wherever she goes.
She started, but then her pace sped up, and the king said, "No, no, no, that’s not a royal stride! Watch me in my lederhosen and pumps!"
So the decree was revised, and Suella now has to walk heel-toe-heel-toe, with all touching before the foot is to be raised. Or there may be a slight hop somewhere in there – the language is confusing, having a lot of "herein" and "heretofore" and "the party of the first part shall be first and come before the party of the second part who shall come second but not third" and a ton of Latin which no one reads or speaks anymore, thus making the legal and royal traditions of the ancient king of Mordor even more out-of-date.
What have been the results of Suella’s Decree (an unofficial title)?
Parliament started, and she left her house and was NOT allowed to take a car or helicopter! Outrage! She stepped one foot directly in front of the other, heel touching toe... and she was late.
By a lot. Parliament was over by the time she arrived.
She got invited to a party, for politicians and their bankers only. By the time she got there, all the coke was gone, married and unmarried people were having sex in the pool and coat check, every cigar had been lit with money, and new vows were made to destroy the poor and give massive pay raises to more rich scum – I mean, politicians and their friends – and someone died, but was then promoted to a diplomatic position in a country no one in British politics has ever heard of. Possibly Andorra or Malta or Burkini Faso, wherever they are.
Suella wept and damned her shoes to the Ninth Circle of Chelsea after having broken both heels and had her Achilles Heel gnawed on by a Pomeranian.
She vows to never speed again. Nor to ever walk slower than a snail once her royal punishment is done.
You may see her scraping her soles down the pavement – but you are not allowed to give her a lift into work or heading home or going dancing at the next "Mask Party" – which is now a thing, to much snobbish nasal laughter.
Poor Suella... she walks on callouses now, which pop painfully with every step. You can smell her foot sweat and callous oil wafting on the wind and staining crosswalks all 'round London Town.
Poor, poor Suella...
