DEAR oh dear. The prime minister has exposed his contempt for Britain’s decent, hardworking snake-oil salesmen. Well, I’m not ashamed to say I’m their champion.
This great country was built on the backs of snake oil and its derivatives. From the Crusades to the glory days of the British Empire, snake-oil merchants have been there, laying a comforting groundwork of deception.
Whether it’s good old-fashioned essence-of-cobra, leeches, ineffective nosegays full of herbs to protect against the Black Death or simply the dishonest men of the C of E, they’re a key part of our cultural heritage.
That’s why I’m enormously proud to represent this much maligned trade, whether by campaigning for Brexit or leading Reform. For too long this nation’s honest frauds, hoodwinkers and shit-stirrers have been politically homeless. No more.
Of course I know I’m peddling bollocks. That’s the point. The art of the trade lies in making blatant fabrications sound convincing, while also offering attractive solutions. It’s the sort of proper graft the prime minister is unfamiliar with.
My slimy character and brash charisma may be unappealing to some disdainful of the hallmarks of a phoney industry dating back to the 19th century. Snobs, I call them. It’s taken years to hone this repellent persona, but the results speak for themselves.
It all comes down to business. Being a shyster isn’t just woven into our nation’s identity, it also rakes in money for the economy. Can you imagine our high streets without CBD oil, micellar water or caffeine shampoos? Of course not.
We are a nation built on fraudulent cure-alls. So if the prime minister wants to tar me with the same brush as liars and swindlers, I say go ahead. You’ve just driven millions of crooks into my openly corrupt arms.
