KEIR Starmer summoned the latest challenger to enter his hall of combat while drinking blood from a horn while seated on his throne of enemies’ skulls.
Battle-scarred champion Starmer called hopeful Wes Streeting to step into his blood-strewn thunderdome while chewing the flesh of Olly Robbins from a femur and spitting the gristly bits into a jewelled cup.
Under the glow of flaming torches, barbarian conqueror Starmer said: “Is this the best warrior those massed against could muster? A baby-faced dweeb who looks like he’s always forgotten his homework? Mediocre.
“What will it be, Streeting of the Greater London wastes? Will you face the steel of my battle axe with the trident or the short sword? Or are you foolish enough to challenge me to bare-fisted one-on-one combat? Either way, your miserable fate is sealed.
“No, fighting you to the death would be a waste of my terrifying strength. Begone, and tell the people that Starmer the Mighty, Once and Future Prime Minister, former Director of Public Prosecutions, is as merciful as he is powerful.
“Your blood is not worthy of being spilled. Though your nuts shall receive a kick that would shatter worlds.”
Streeting said: “I’ll chalk that up as a win. I think I spooked him into submission by how stoically I wet myself and ran away.”
