Four possible prime minsters: how each of them would be shite

THERE are only four possible prime ministers left in the Conservative leadership contest. This is the dystopian nightmare Britain would be under each of them: 

Kemi Badenoch

Free speech is compulsory. Every Briton must say whatever is on their mind at any given monent, no matter how prejudiced and vile. Anyone found keeping unpleasant thoughts to themselves is sent to Rwanda, as is anyone attacking the prime minister’s free speech by not watching her nightly broadcasts about how she flipped burgers for minimum wage in the summer of ’96. There are no economic policies.

Penny Mordaunt

SS Great Britain, as the country is now officially known, declares itself a pirate state. Eyepatched Penny, the captain of the country, assigns every man, woman and child a naval rank. Our economy is based solely on raiding France, Ireland, Spain and the east coast of the US. Rum, sodomy and the lash are our reward.

Liz Truss

On her first day in Downing Street explains that her life and career are an ambitious performance art project and she will be exactly recreating the premiership of Margaret Thatcher, day-by-day, in every detail. Whole country ordered to join in. IT workers in former Yorkshire mining villages forced to join pickets by Met officers who then beat them. We re-take the Falklands from no-one.

Rishi Sunak

Announces that country is from now on to be run by millionaires for millionaires because they’re simply better. Abolishes all taxes on all earnings over £1m, opens borders to anyone with over £1m in assets, and moves government to newly-created freeport so it is no longer bound by its own laws. Entire country becomes hive of luxury developments, Michelin-starred restaurants, private hospitals and public schools, with Britons no more than indentured slaves. It’s business as usual basically. Wins majority at next election.

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'Ollie won't touch his gazpacho': Six very real middle-class heatwave problems

NOBODY understands how hard it is to maintain standards when you’re middle-class in an awful vulgar heatwave. Francesca Johnson explains her relatable issues:  

My employer doesn’t instantly accommodate my needs

Will my children’s schools be open? Should they be? It’s literally playing Russian roulette. I should have total flexibility to take time off whenever childcare could theoretically be necessary. Staff without kids can cover for me because nothing is more important than the wellbeing of children, especially mine.

Our special diets

In these conditions feeding Oliver and Emerald hot food could give them heatstroke and overheat their brains, in which case we can say goodbye to medicine at Edinburgh and law at Balliol. Yet when I serve up delicious gazpacho, they can’t eat it. I blame their schools for not introducing them to a varied Andalusian diet.

One ice cream is too many

Sugar is the worst drug of all actually, so my prodigies’ intake is limited. One ice cream a year is reasonable. But they literally come to your doorstep in vans like pushers. I confronted one seller asking why he can’t sell carrot sticks in a cone. He said no one would buy that and he’d go out of business. We have to end capitalism.

Our poor lawn

If you could see my huge yellowed lawn you’d weep. The gardener says grass can recover, but I find that hard to believe. Instead I’ve got the sprinklers on, the hose blasting away and Hugh bringing out buckets of water. The council should be round with water tankers and do it for you, but as ever it’s up to us to save the earth.

The seaside is working class

I don’t take my kids for a paddle and an educational lecture on rock pools to have them exposed to swearing, fried dough and obesity. If it were up to me, I’d only allow people onto the beach with proof of having attended a Russell Group university. It sounds elitist, but life is elitist. We don’t let chimps drive cars.

I’ll be lucky to have one holiday

First it was airport staff and now the runways are melting. I’ve done two years without a foreign holiday that counts and I need this one if I’m to function in my demanding dog treats marketing role. Couldn’t they make runways out of something that doesn’t melt, like Italian marble? Sometimes it seems I’m the only one who thinks things through.