A spear has been driven through the heart of Britannia. The murderer? Rishi Sunak

By Abigail Pennson, our reasonable, plain-speaking middle-class columnist slightly to the right of Hitler

MOURN Britannia, for she is no more. The colossus which once bestrode the globe has been murdered, her country dead, its natives doomed. The murder weapon? Rishi Sunak’s budget. 

Her corpse lies, violated, at Westminster. Its lifeblood of Boadicea, of Shakespeare, of Spitfires and Edward Elgar and Cheggers Plays Pop ebbed into the Thames. The fingerprints on the murder weapon? Rishi Sunak’s budget.

Once, like so many, I believed in Rishi. His independent wealth, his youthful hoodies, his humbling lack of stature. I believed that finally, after fifth columnist Phillip Hammond and Cuban coke connection Osborne, we had a chancellor we could be proud of.

But yesterday? When he had the golden opportunity to announce, finally, that the misguided post-war dream of the welfare state was over? When any sensible chancellor would have abolished all taxes and all public services and let Britain fly free?

Imagine. No more welfare-scrounging pensioners enjoying eternal life on our cash. No more NHS healing the weak. No more regulations stopping our businesses competing with Chinese child labour. Just unstoppable, unending success forever.

No National Insurance. No fuel duty. No income tax. No road tax. No capital gains tax. The money would flood in. We’d be stuffed to bursting with foreign cash.

I can’t have been the only one trembling on the edge of the sofa when Rishi stood up. It wasn’t just me thinking ‘this is it. This is when he announces net zero – for taxation.’ I won’t deny I was soaking wet downstairs.

Instead? Rishi the butcher pulled out his long knives and slaughtered this country. Like in the mid-90s martial arts film Butterfly and Sword starring Donnie Yen, we have already been hacked to pieces. The moment we take a step we will fall into bloody gobbets.

Sunak stabbed the Conservative party between the eyes and pulled out its wet brain. He disembowelled our world-leading City. He punched his bare fingers through the ribcage of our island’s proud history and squeezed its heart in his merciless fist.

The police report will read: ‘Cause of death? Murder. The murder weapon? A 1.25 per cent rise in National Insurance contributions.’

‘The killer? Still at large. But by God we’re going to catch him. And when we do? He’ll be hung, drawn and quartered at Old Palace Yard.’

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Mash Blind Date: 'They've sent me on a date with a bloke, but I'm straight'

TO celebrate Pride Month, which is in June, we sent gay man Neil and straight man Josh on a date together and if Josh complains he’s a bigot.

Neil on Josh

First impression?

Very masc vibes, comfortable in his body, doing a kind of normcore thing which I’m not not into. Skincare four out of ten but he’s tall and that makes up for it.

How was conversation? 

…Okay? On most things? He knows his Girls Aloud, he’s not a Tory, he loves a bit of Peaky Blinders though more for the plot than the aesthetics. But he kept saying he’s straight. Which, you know, not my first, but it was a dampener.

Memorable moments?

He knows how to handle his nasi goreng and chose us an excellent Chilean Sauvignon Blanc to go with it, so points for that. We discovered we’d been to the same Blondie gig back in 2013, which what a coincidence, and he does a fantastic impression of Danny Dyer. But again with the straight thing. I was like ‘okay, can we move on?’

Favourite thing about Josh? 

I’d say just his playful energy? Like this up-for-anything adventurous energy which was so like my ex-but-two it’s untrue?

A capsule description? 

Good looking in an unreconstructed way, funny, blunt, politically engaged. One minor sexuality-related issue he could get over if he wanted to.

Was there a spark? 

Yes. But I’m like an angle-grinder, babe: there’s a shower of sparks wherever I go.

What happened afterwards? 

We split the bill and went our separate ways. What? I’m gay, not a predator.

What would you change about the evening? 

To be on a date with someone who was into dating my gender? Not a lot to ask, is it?

Will you see each other again?  

We swapped phone numbers to be polite. I’d be very surprised if he called. Welcome-surprised, but surprised.

Josh on Neil

First impression?

Neil seems absolutely lovely, charming, funny and handsome. But, given that I’m heterosexual and said so on the form, that’s by the by. Was no woman available? Would none of them date me?

How was conversation? 

Really good. I mean we really got on well and were perfectly matched in a conversational sense. I’m aware I kept ruining it by going back to the central-to-me, boring-to-him subject of my not being gay. Which I’d rather not have but I really wanted it to be established.

Memorable moments?

Neil’s incredibly quick and witty and bitchy. I was laughing the whole time, even when he showed me where I should get hair plugs with his fork. And a jowl tuck, and veneers.

Favourite thing about Neil? 

How easy it was to talk to him. It wasn’t like most dates where conversation is stilted and awkward and keeps stuttering to a halt. With him it really soared. He really seemed interested in who I was.

A capsule description? 

Blonde, ripped, shorter than me, undeniably gay.

Was there a spark? 

Ultimately there wasn’t because of my ‘whole straight thing getting in the way’ to quote Neil. What did he say?

What happened afterwards? 

Nothing, absolutely nothing. He didn’t tell you anything, did he? We said we weren’t going to. Oh alright he gave me a blowjob.

What would you change about the evening? 

If I’m entirely honest nothing. I mean I wouldn’t be going on blind dates if I was doing well with women, would I? Why not change team? What have I got to lose?

Will you see each other again?  

I’ve got his number. Fuck it. I’m texting him.