Feeling Priti and Witty and Bright
The Spider has leaked us a diary entry discovered in Whitehall a couple of weeks ago:
By the time anyone reads this I may no longer be Home Secretary. And that will be REALLY unfair! All I’ve done is try to keep the Brexit flag flying along the Great Red Wall and repel those hordes of asylum seekers immigrants. Yes, of course we all hate Putin and feel sorry for the Ukrainian refugees, but that doesn’t mean you want one of them living in your house does it? (Does it, Govey?)
And those bloody civil servants. Still claiming that I bullied them. Really? Just tell me how you can bully the combined ranks of Sir Humphreys? They are a law unto themselves, as my predecessor the dripping wet Amber Rudd found out to her cost. I mean why on earth would they let me believe there was a ‘secure route’ for refugees to come to Britain when there simply wasn’t? And what did it matter whether the new visa application centre was in Calais or Lille. They are only about 100 kilometres apart. Anyone fleeing from Kiev and turning up at Calais could easily get on a train back to Lille to fill out their form. All it needed was a decent smart phone with a good internet connection and it would be easy-peasy. I simply wasn’t impressed by those problem-creators who said that after two weeks on the road Ukrainians might not have been able to charge up their phones or buy a local roaming card. For heaven’s sake we’re in the 21st century!
I accept it didn’t look too good when it turned out that there wasn’t even a visa centre in Lille either. But it was only a matter of time before we opened one. And there’s a perfectly good train service from Lille to Brussels or Paris where there actually ARE visa facilities – albeit only operational during reduced office hours three-and-a-half days a week. What’s wrong with these people? They want spoon-feeding. When my parents were fleeing from Uganda they didn’t have mobile phones. And I didn’t appreciate that commie-pinko Nik Ferrari on LBC pointing out that Mom and Pop left before they were expelled by Idi Amin and so they probably wouldn’t have been allowed into the UK under my points-based immigration system. Things were different then. And I don’t like the jibes about pulling up the drawbridge. They’re just not funny.
What is funny is the PM moaning that I’ve been telling Melton Mowbrays about the visa centres. Talk about pots and kettles. He’s the absolute master of porkie-pies. The ‘sine qua non’ (as he himself might put it) of duplicitous dissimulators. My problem is that those rabid Rottweilers on the 1922 committee have dozed off and stopped hounding him over the Downing Street parties. It means that their pact to support me as Home Secretary as long as I keep ALL foreigners out of Britain has fallen a bit by the wayside.
But I’m not too worried. I’ve bounced back before. In the meantime, I’ll just keep singing my happy song:
I feel Priti, oh, so Priti, I feel Priti, and witty, and bright.
And I pity – any girl – who isn’t me tonight.
I feel charming, Oh, so charming – It’s alarming how charming
And so Priti that – I hardly can believe I’m real!
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