ONCE upon a time, in the United Kingdom of Britain, there lived a man who had everything but for whom it was not enough.
Boris was handsome, rich, popular with the people, married with four wonderful children and the Mayor of London, but still he yearned to shape the destiny of his country, to achieve global fame, and to bang someone younger.
One day Boris was polishing a lamp when a genie sprang out! A data genius called Cummings.
‘Boris’, he said, ‘I can grant all your desires with a magick called Brexit. If you make all the people believe in Brexit they will forgive you anything, even walking out on your wife and kids for a blonde piece.”
Boris belived Cummings, and together they fashioned a Brexit that enchanted the whole country, and a young blonde named Carrie appeared magically, as if in Tory employ.
Soon Boris was ruler of all the land and, as Cummings had promised, the moralistic family-focused Conservative party and media did not care in the least that he had left his wife for a woman 23 years younger, nor that she was pregnant out of wedlock.
Meanwhile Carrie, for so she was called, was in love with the man of her dreams: powerful, charismatic, unconcerned with household budgets. But she distrusted Cummings and wished to break his malign spell.
Thanks to her womanly magicks Cummings was fired and his own enchantments turned on him, for all his evidence to a select committee was as nothing and melted into air.
And so the wonderful day came when Boris and Carrie wed, and the whole nation gazed upon their perfect love and not one soul doubted that it would last forever.
