Wednesday, 11 December 2019

Order for the Interring of a Prime Minister in a Fridge


Archdruid: Dearly beloved, we gather here to mark this solemn rite. The insertion of a Prime Minister into a fridge.

All: We bet it's not even the first time he's had to hide in an item of household furniture.

Archdruid: And we don't even need to mention that he's been doing a milk round.

All: This stuff writes itself. 

Archdruid: Man that is born of woman is not necessarily one of Boris Johnson's illegitimate offspring.

All: But there's always that chance.

Archdruid: And so it is that Boris Johnson, faced with a stressful experience, reverted to his deepest instincts.

All: And called upon the mountains to fall upon him.

Archdruid: But being there were no mountains handy 

All: He jumped in a fridge instead.

Archdruid: All men are as grass.

All: Which lieth all around.

Archdruid: They are as a puff of smoke

All: Which gets in your eyes, stinks and is really irritating.

Archdruid: And we know the next PM will have to stand up to Putin, the EU and Trump.

All: So lucky we've got someone who knows where his fridge is. 

Archdruid: And so we join in the sacred chant.

All: Come out, Boris! We know where you're hiding!

HYMN: Love Theme from the Fridges of Madison County

1 comment :

  1. Those of us across the pond are so awash in the impeachment frenzy that our vision is distorted and making us think you were suggesting your Prime Minister is to be interred in his "fringe". Me'thinks he already is. Perhaps he needs a referral to Mr. Trump's hairdresser.

    Nonetheless, sending prayers for all on your election day.


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