by Jo Johnson, MP for Orpington
Dear Boris, or should I say, The Bedwetter,
We shared a room for eight years. You tortured me every day for fun and tortured me every night by wetting the bed and telling everyone it was me.
I hate you and have always hated you. Just because you were the older brother you thought you should have everything bigger and better than me.
Like when you got a Chopper bike for Christmas and I got your old Budgie, because posh people treat their children worse than the servants, and you raced on ahead and made me cry.
And then when I caught up with you and your friends you said I was an orphan boy who followed you around and I cried even more.
Then so as I wouldn’t tell Daddy you swore, you pinky swore on Margaret Thatcher’s life that I would get the bigger bedroom next year.
Then on your birthday you put all your things in the bigger room and bagsied it, and that night I swore revenge. I swore I would take the thing you wanted most in all the world and break it.
So yes, I’m resigning from your government in the national interest, because it is in Britain’s interest not to be run by a fat, flatulent, penknife-thieving liar who fancied Susan Traherne and went all red and tried to deny it but definitely did.
Enjoy your final days in office, by which I mean the weekend,