Sometime this morning, Theresa May sat down with a cup of tea and a digestive biscuit. It was supposed to be a Custard Cream but she recently concluded a custard cream was no good for dunking. So she changed her mind at the last-minute.
It was a lovely cup of tea, made even better because she had changed her mind at the last-minute and opted for the digestive. Theresa loved her tea break. Time to contemplate changing her mind, again.
It was at that moment that Theresa’s next big idea popped into her head. It was another changing her mind idea. Another one of those moments when she could speak of strong leadership, of being a vicar’s daughter, of strong principles, of being a leader of the people and of changing her mind and doing the opposite of what she had said last week, last month, last year. Yes, she thought to herself, we are decisive about changing our mind.
A General Election. That’s what we need, a General Election. She paused for a moment, but it was only a very short moment. Would they notice? Would the people notice? Would her MPs notice? Would anyone notice? Of course not. It’s what they expected from her. It’s Theresa, she changes her mind and she changes it with conviction.
She had changed her mind so often, on so many subjects, policies, principles and biscuits and no one had noticed, but if they did notice, it’s what they expected from her.
Why, just a few moments ago, she had changed her mind on her choice of biscuit and no one noticed. If she could change biscuits at the last-minute, why not a General Election?
Theresa finished her tea, grabbed the lectern from the hallway, and marched out of the front door into the middle of the street. She plonked the lectern down on the road. It was a decisive plonk, a determined plonk, a British plonk, a Brexit plonk. She surveyed the massed ranks of those pesky reporter types with her dead eye look.
“I have just chaired a meeting of the Cabinet”, she began. Theresa paused and looked around at the reporters. They believed her. She had just been having a cuppa and a biscuit and here she was telling the reporters she had been in a Cabinet meeting. And the silly reporters believed her. They always believed her.
This PM business was a doddle. Another successful lie. No election until 2020 my arse. “There will be a General Election on 8th June”, Theresa continued.
All she needed to do now was come up with a few more lies, get the silly reporters to repeat her lies to all the people and the election was in the bag.
Theresa fancied another cuppa. She thought of Easter just passed and the role that Judas played. This time would it be Fig or Ginger with the cuppa?
Judas, what an interesting role, denying the truth when challenged. Theresa was glad she was a vicar’s daughter. She understood the bible. She understood Christian values. She understood Easter. She understood lies. Theresa sighed and thought of the people. She smiled and thought of Donald. Donald always said, “A big lie is always better than a little lie, especially when it’s believed”.
“Fig”, said Theresa decisively. Was it a lie?