I'm riding a headline high. Everyone loves Rishi again. Nothing can spoil this moment. 'The net migration figures are in,' says Cleverly

From the diary of Rishi Sunak, Britain’s most tax-cutting prime minister

I SPREAD the headlines out in front of me like a teenage boy with his pornographic magazines. Praise, praise, praise. ‘Net migration’s up,’ says Cleverly from behind me. 

I wheel around guiltily, caught in an act of self-aggrandisement. Technically the headlines are praising Jeremy, but not a person in the country is unaware that he’s an anally-operated glove puppet. I know, I’ve run focus groups.

‘How did you get in?’ I ask, perhaps a little squeakier than intended. ‘I mean, how did they get in? The migrants?’

‘Well, we let them, largely,’ he says, sitting down. ‘Gave them visas etcetera. Because we need them to boost the economy. My mother’s from Sierra Leone, yours are Punjabis from Africa, this shouldn’t be a surprise.’

He’s been like this ever since I made him home secretary. Blunt, honest, unbothered by niceties like pretending Rwanda matters. Almost as if he’s in a job he hates but doesn’t care because he’s leaving soon.

‘Suella’s spouting her shit on ex-Twitter,’ he continues, ‘with a magnificent ignorance of the fact she was in charge throughout. Headlines are going to be nasty tomorrow. You’ll be going from Phillip Schofield winning awards to Phillip Schofield shagged a runner.’

‘It’s your job to stop it,’ I say, commandingly, keeping my voice deep. ‘Immigration? I’ll stop issuing visas then, shall I?’ he says. ‘And watch University College London become insolvent overnight?’

‘And what’s this about Stockton-on-Tees?’ I jab back. ‘They’re lying,’ he says, turning to leave. ‘I didn’t say it was a shithole. I said it was a fucking shithole.’

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Why I'd be f**king class on Strictly, by Lord Cameron of Chipping Norton

THE Right Honorable Lord David Cameron has returned to public life, and after a brief period as foreign secretary will light up our Saturday nights on Strictly Come Dancing. He explains how he will win at a canter. 

Face facts – I’ll piss Strictly. It’ll be 10s across the board and waltzing off victorious with the Glitterball trophy, all wounds of Brexit healed. This is how events will unfold:


To get ahead in politics you need to employ the dark arts. Don’t just succeed, smear your opponent at the same time. If I’m up against Anna Friel and whoever she’s banging in the foxtrot, I’ll leak that she killed a pensioner in a hit and run in 1998. If Anton Du Beke gives me a seven, the press will learn he sells foot photos online. Classic Saturday night telly.

Track record of success

I’ve done two jobs in my life – genius PR for ITV Digital and the most successful Conservative prime minister of the 21st century. I’ll bring that frightening efficiency to Strictly. Imagine me, in full Bullingdon tuxedo and white gloves, kicking absolute dancing shit out of Coleen Rooney and Ian McShane while in the audience my wife, Jeremy Clarkson and William Hague clap like f**king seals. The nation’s sweetheart.

Connecting with the public

I know a thing or two about winning public votes. The 2011 Alternative Vote referendum? The 2014 Scottish independence referendum? Exactly. So when Vin Diesel dares pit his tango against mine or Barack Obama hits me with his quickstep, I’ll renew that connection with a smile, a wink and a welcome back into Britain’s hearts. I never truly left.


I don’t doubt I’ll be up against top-class opposition. Tom Cruise, Thierry Henry, Madonna, the Duchess of Sussex. But each and every one of them is, in the final analysis, as common as a smear of shite up an outhouse wall. I have breeding, I have schooling, I have a baronetcy and ultimately that’s what the British people will vote for.

I need a hobby

Sam says foreign secretary will give me something to do but it really won’t. It’s barely a distraction and only good for getting your travel expensed. Instead I’ll put my time into rehearsing in my day-glo headband and ankle warmers at Pineapple Dance studios, hugging my partner inappropriately as if I’ve forgotten the cameras are there. Then I’ll beat Mick Jagger and Kim Kardashian in the final.