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Boycottian Revelations and Mogg the Calamitous Piano Flogger

REVELATORY is the word, as it emerged this week that Prime Minister Theresa May is no automaton, but actually Geoffrey Boycott. Whether the "legendary" cricketer has kidnapped the real-life Mrs May, locked her in a basement and donned highly-plausible prosthetics - or Mrs May is simply channelling his spirit, circa Yorkshire cricket captain 1977 - it is too early to say.
Regardless, for This Reporter, this explains everything. Hauled in front of her millionth press briefing in recent times, Mrs May was forced to justify why she would not be changing her Brexit plan, or stepping down as Prime Minister. And she likened her stubbornness to "see this through" to her idol Boycott, of whom she said: "The whole point was he stuck to it. He had a plan and he got on with it, and more often than not he delivered".
The fact Mr Boycott, famed for his dull play, has said the biggest mistake he ever made was to take on the Yorkshire captaincy - "I was not a good man-manager" - seems to be by-the-by. Mrs May's resolve is unshakable. Her undoing - she forgets to put on the prosthetics and is forced to face plant a lemon meringue pie.
Elsewhere, Japan, a black cat has garnered fame for trying to "gain entrance" to an art museum to peruse an exhibition of cat photographs. Ken-Chan has had a stand off with the security guard at the Onomichi city museum since the summer of 2016. He has recently been joined by a second cat, a ginger one, called Go-Chan. A petition has been drawn up by feline-loving Japanese people, who think the cats should be allowed in. Where is a friendly policeman when you need one?
Of course we'll always have Michael Gove, who is proving the most loyal of Mrs May's Cabinet ministers. Despite turning down the role of Brexit Secretary, Mr Gove has pledged to stay on by Mrs May's side to help her "sell the Brexit deal". But there's something of the Go-Chan about him. The minute Mrs May's back is turned, he will be rushing those automatic doors.
So who is the new Brexit Secretary? Stephen Barclay is his name, after national fears the post would be offered out in fortnightly stints, in manner of jury duty, to every citizen. And the news has brought a resounding "who?"
The man was, apparently, junior minister in the health department, before being elevated, but This Reporter can't help thinking this akin to that early edition of Celebrity Big Brother, where Chantelle had to pretend to be famous and ended up - with a good splash of irony - marrying Preston from the Ordinary Boys.
Jacob Rees-Mogg has been creating a public kerfuffle, along with his all-inclusive Brexiteering panel, hoping to topple Mrs May with a vote of no confidence - until realising ERG has three letters, not 48.
Rees-Mogg declares in the words of Take That: "you've gotta have a little patience". But before anyone thinks of concurring the sentiment of this most "virtuous" of politicians, who - for love of his nanny - has morphed into Mr Banks of Mary Poppins fame - predating the day he flew the kite. Let's remind ourselves that this Victorian bank clerk has one eye on his own coin vault, which he hopes to swell with readies the day we Brexit, and Britain financially implodes on itself.
At least we have a strong opposition who will rise to our cause and press the red "Stop Brexit" button. What's that, Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn says the time isn't right. He's still pushing for a general election and should he win, he'll come up with his own Brexit strategy. As back up, we could have bought out Boris Johnson's crowd control water cannons, if they hadn't just been sold off at a pittance, for scrap metal.
Meanwhile Britain burns. A United Nations report concludes that "callous policies" driven by a "political desire for social re-engineering" has inflicted great poverty and misery upon the people of the UK. The two-week fact finding mission found that whilst the UK boasts the fifth largest economy in the world, its child poverty levels were not just a disgrace but a "social calamity".
Elton John, please play us out, on your 1950s upright piano, as portrayed in the John Lewis Christmas ad. Indeed times are hard in this Brexit age, even for this multi-millionaire pop phenomena - turned piano-flogger. With lyrics provided by political stalwart Ken Clarke: "I've been sat up in bed for hours, whiskey on the bedside table, soft jazz playing in the background, trying to think if I've ever worked with a more idiotic bunch of self-centred bastards in my nearly 50 years as a MP. Nope".

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