By Times columnist Donna Sheridan
I’M allegedly an adult woman and a serious journalist, but I think I speak for all the ladies when I say: shag me, sexy Mr Chancellor, and fill me with your little Rishis.
Rishi just has this effect on women. All my female friends, who I’ve made up for the purposes of this column, agree they’d sleep with him. We just can’t resist his dashing good looks and mysterious accountant’s eyes.
He’s part financially astute chancellor, part James Bond and part Jesus. Although he’s better than Jesus, who always struck me as a socialist Corbynite idiot. Rishi knows how to really help the poor – by cutting their Universal Credit and freeing them from state handouts.
I know I don’t stand a chance with someone literally perfect in every way like Rishi, but I can dream. And those dreams get pretty steamy, with me on top and everything.
Why do I write this drivel? For the money, obviously, but I’ve started to convince myself I do actually want to shag Rishi. I started speculating about his ‘impressively large, commanding penis’ earlier, but my editor doesn’t like reading about men’s cocks.
I’ll admit the whole ‘Dishy Rishi’ thing is a bit strange. I can write 800 words about a dull, completely ordinary-looking Tory clone having ‘George Clooney looks and bags of charisma’ and no one says, ‘You mean that gangly right-wing twat Sunak? What the f**k are you on about, Donna?’
It could be because columnists love to hop on every bandwagon, no matter how stupid. Come to think of it, I did write a piece in 2019 entitled ‘What Britain desperately needs now is some bloody good Boris belly laughs’.