The cakes of Britain are hot on Boris Johnson’s trail
S E E D E D C O N T E N T
Usually, I am in favor of the American Revolution. One possible argument against it, though, is that now we are forced to have our own independent news cycle that is not currently dominated by the spectacle of British Prime Minister Boris Johnson being ambushed by cakes.
As far as I can tell, here is what is happening: Boris Johnson, an anthropomorphic mangelwurzel who is the current PM (an office formerly occupied by such people as Pitt the Younger and Pitt the Elder, and somebody named Bonar Law ) is now suffering from what seems to be his 98th or 99th scandal since arriving in the public eye. One more, I think, and he is entitled to a free haircut.
If I were prime minister, I would do my best to keep my job, if only because No. 10 Downing Street, where the prime minister works and resides, is equipped with a free cat named Larry , a feline who has been criticized as lazy but also rebuked for getting into a brawl with Palmerston , the Foreign Office cat. Larry conveys, so unless you’re prime minister, you lose access to him. This alone would keep me doing my best to steer the ship of state on a steady course.
Which is what Boris Johnson also claims he has been doing, except it seems people will not stop throwing him parties — or, rather, something that an observer who did not know any better might mistake for a party, but that Johnson’s team now assures us wasn’t one. (“It was not a premeditated, organized party,” explained Conservative MP Conor Burns, defending Johnson on TV. “He was, in a sense, ambushed with a cake .”)
Ambushed! By cake! This is a scandal with layers. Boris Johnson, it would appear, is constantly just sitting there trying not to celebrate occasions or disobey any of the coronavirus restrictions his own government put in place, but he is surrounded by monsters who won’t stop throwing him parties.
It should have been clear from the first one — his own birthday party, reportedly planned by his wife, at which he claims he only stayed for 10 minutes — that nothing could possibly be a greater torment to him than to have a party thrown in his honor. And yet the devils kept doing it — in for a penny, in for a pound cake!
In general, I think that when you and your defenders are having to issue denials like “I ‘believed implicitly’ that the BYOB garden party was a work event,” things are already off the rails. Indeed, if his account of himself is to be believed, Boris Johnson has been living in terror for the past several years. At any moment, without warning, he might be ambushed by cake. One day, he will be standing before Parliament, taking the Prime Minister’s Questions , and will look on in horror as, slowly, from a back bench, a red velvet cake begins to rise and shake its gory locks at him.
And Britain, as we have learned from its only export, “The Great British Bake-Off,” is absolutely awash in cakes. There is nowhere he can go where he can be safe from the horror. Blink — and there is a weeping angel food, hot on his trail.
He’s powerless. He had better leave the place where this keeps happening, before a cake turns out to be the one icing him.
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I have photos of Boris and my daughter from several years ago, his current girth suggests he is on the Donald diet ... that or he ate both Larry and Palmerston.
In case you were wondering ... The humble mangelwurzel:
Is that related to anything we mildly interested Americans might know?
Marvelous Mangel-Wurzels ... American farmers abandoned them for corn.
Thank you for that information. Sounds like this would be better for us than grain
Too much blood pudding, Shepard's Pie, stout, and spotted dick I am guessing.
I knew about Larry but I didn't know about Palmerston.
Larry
I see Palmerston is a tuxedo. They exude attitude as much as torties
I bet trmp didn't like being upstaged by a cat