Dear Scoop Alley,
I’ve been promoted above my abilities at work which means I’m in charge of absolutely everything even though no one likes me.
As you might expect, being Head Girl has its advantages but there are problems. There are about 50 noisy bullies known as the Mad Dogs of the Extremely Ridiculous Gluebrains (ERG for short) who sit at the far, far, far, far, far, far, far, far right of the classroom and they are making my life a misery.
Like most bullies, they’re nasty cowards but they skulk behind the bike sheds and dominate me and everyone else. I have about 600 co-workers known as Muppets and Puppets, or MPs for short, so you’d think that together we could stand up to the bullies but we can’t.
Mad dogs have a magic spell ‘will of the people’
The problem is that the Mad Dogs have a magic chant that casts a spell over us and renders us powerless. Every time we want to do something sensible they use this spell on us: “the will of the people…the will of the people”.
They’ve taken me hostage and won’t let me say the things I want to say and instead have turned me into a parrot making me repeat things over and over again, like “Brexit means Brexit,” “red, white and blue Brexit,” “citizens of nowhere,” and so on.
If I don’t do as they say, they’ll conjure up the dark forces of the Sun to burn and destroy me.
My chinless wonder predecessor was also bullied
You might think I’m a softie but it’s not just me. Before I took over, my chinless wonder of a predecessor was also being harassed by these bullies. They wanted us to break away from our friends of the last 40 years and sail off in ship called Brexit to become Global Britain as opposed to Great Britain.
Everyone with any sense thought this was a stupid idea but the bullies outsmarted us. They told a lot of lies on buses and persuaded people to follow them. They’re like crazy gamblers and they’re getting worse. They started out on soft Brexit, then progressed to hard Brexit and now it’s No Deal Brexit at any cost.
I have to clear up this mess but wherever I turn the Mad Dogs are there, snarling and barking, threatening to run to their master the Sun King if I don’t do as they say and deliver Brexit at any cost no matter how damaging it will be.
Please Scoop Alley, I’m at my wits’ end. What can I do?
Worried of Westminster
Dear Worried of Westminster,
We don’t wish to be unhelpful but you drank from the poisoned chalice, and while it got you high on power for a while, it’s left you with a terrible hangover. Our advice is grow a pair or get out.