Sir Howard Elston, parasite to the stars, reports on another explosive turn of events as Theresa May steps down.<
As I squat in the lowers depths of the Houses of Parliament chained to my Ikea desk while inhaling a pack of Marlboro Lights, I can finally get the Ok from my legal team to publish the latest Explozeroo on the Weird as Weird Can Get Tory leadership battle.
I can report that a single candidate, who lawyers tell me I must not yet name today, has put a hand up and admitted: “I never took drugs”.
With the man that looks like that guy off Ghostbusters (Michael Gove) and the guy who is a walking haystack (see above) and the guy who is a walking skeleton (Rory Something) and the gal who looks like a maths teacher (Andrea Jacqueline Leadsom) and the well dressed one who whinesthrough his nose (Raab) all admitting imbibing in a snort or a smokey hit in their youth, my as yet unidentified candidate, relaxing with a 2% approval rating, told me:
“Howie, I’ve never smoked Marahoochie, grabbed a line of Bolivian marching powder or even dropped a tab of Tim Leary. I feel so ashamed. It’s a mistake, I know, but I should have spent my middle class university days out of my head on daddy’s dime listening to UB40 or the Doobie Brothers while sprawled on the floor on a dubiously stained shagpile rug.”
Many party insiders have now called for my unnamed candidate to step down. Said one: “No drugs? Fuck me and call me Reg ie Maudling”.
And another added: “Hang ‘em high. Half the party are out of their heads anyway”.
Others have also had besmirched pasts. Ultra right winger Jacob Rees-Ciderhouse was caught snorting snuff off the hem of a Somerset debutante’s ballgown; Brexit boy Nigel Farage was found launching his tongue up the innards of DJ Trump; Labour honcho Jeremy Corbyn resembles the aforesaid shagpile rug (see above) and the LibDem leader is…who? I forgot.
Straight-laced Theresa May stepped down on Friday with her husband, who suspiciously resembles Woody Allan, at her side. She will remain a Lame Duck boss until a coke-addled jerk wins the shabby race to pick a successor just in time to screw up, even more, the Brexit miasma.
Tory observer Phil from East Meon in leafy Hampshire told me: “The Conservative Party has great reserves of money for this campaign. And a basement full of grade-A mescaline. Rock on!!!!”