by Angus Wolfe Murray
Politics has never been so exciting. They talk about Theresa like they talk about Dexter, a serial killer with a silver touch.
All change at the top. Great! The Brexit Three are imperfectly matched. Swop Gove with Boris and you have a fabulous fit, but rumour has it that the Aberdonian hobbit had a number of spats with the lady when she was at the home office and forgiveness is not in her repertoire. Not yet, anyway.
The new foreign sec was the shock appointment. If that brute Brutus had not knifed the bear Boris he would probably be standing outside No 10 right now waffling on about something or nothing and insulting half the leaders of the Western/Eastern world as a joke.
Arise Sir Michael! You gave your (political) life for your country.
Ham’n’Cheese in No 11. Good move. Steady hand on the tiller, what? A bigger surprise is the retention of Hunt at health. Don’t the junior docs hate his internal organs, or has he been misjudged by the media – nothing new in that – because it’s simpler to paint authority black than marmalade orange?
Greening at education is inspired, as is Andrea at environment. I am not so sure about Liz Trussed Up at justice. Sir Michael was innovative and daring, a reformer with that rare ability, a sense of purpose and the ability to make things happen.
The Tory Toffs have been shown the door and the ladies who are too busy to lunch are ushered in. There is something fresh and invigorating about this.
The Whine Club is bankrupt and has been disbanded. About time too, the last of the Leavers shout from their basement in the heart of government. We are on the move.
Nay Sayers Not Invited!