Mash Blind Date: Liz Truss and the British public, who've never met her and have no idea what she's like

IN five days, Liz Truss will become prime minister even though the country has no idea who she is. They’re meeting for the first time over tapas: 

Britain on Liz

First impression?

Oh, it’s Pork Markets. I didn’t realise that was Liz Truss. So she’s going to be prime minister? The cheese woman?

How was conversation? 

There wasn’t a lot of back-and-forth. She doesn’t seem to think that’s how conversation works. I’d say something, like ‘Who would have thought Arsenal would be top after four games, eh?’ and she’d reply ‘What I’m talking about is enabling people to keep more money in their own pockets’, smile primly then fall silent.

Memorable moments?

I said ‘mind you I wonder how this place will pay its bills over winter’ and her head started swivelling uncontrollably and her hands started clutching for something that wasn’t there. ‘Because of the gas bills,’ I explained, and she started emitting these little involuntary whimpers.

Favourite thing about Liz? 

She’s from Leeds and I’ve got mates up there, so we were talking about it but she’s never been to Majestyk or Back to Basics, and seems to believe Roundhay’s a rough area? Seriously? Roundhay’s posh as fuck.

A capsule description? 

She was there but she wasn’t there, you know? Like one of those Abba holograms. Like if I’d ducked down she’d be hovering an inch above her chair.

Was there a spark? 

I asked why she hadn’t done more interviews and events to meet the people of the country she’s going to be leading and she shuddered until her fork rattled against her plate. I had to take that personally.

What happened afterwards? 

The bill arrived and she was already gone. I get the feeling I’m going to have to get used to that.

What would you change about the evening? 

Ideally I’d have made some kind of human connection with the person who’s going to decide whether I get to keep my job, house and life.

Will you see each other again?  

Yes. This isn’t a blind date. It’s Married at fucking First Sight.

Liz on Britain

First impression?

Let me say very clearly that I love Britain, I am proud of Britain, and I will not stand by while others do Britain down. But not all of Britain.

How was conversation? 

Every point on my prepared brief was covered, repeatedly. The long silences only proved his satisfaction with my answers.

Memorable moments?


Favourite thing about the British public? 

That they are inspired to aspire by my example, and have given me a full and comprehensive mandate to take any action, lawful or unlawful, to restore our great country’s pride.

A capsule description? 

Nondescript. Yet yearning for change.

Was there a spark? 

I’m not answering any questions about energy until September 5th.

What happened afterwards? 

The bill arrived, which was an underhand gotcha moment by the liberal media, so I arranged to be no longer present.

What would you change about the evening? 

I would have a pressing engagement at another location.

Will you see each other again?  

From afar. Nothing closer than 100 yards would be appropriate.

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Let's move to a city where Ed Sheeran shagged one of the locals! This week: Galway

What’s it about?

Widely regarded as the cultural capital of Ireland, this beautiful city boasts a rich history and proud identity, all of which has been entirely eclipsed by Ed Sheeran’s Galway Girl. 

If the thought of bumping into a ginger bloke’s one-night stand who inspired a crime against music appeals, then why not come to take advantage of the truly lax attitudes local authorities take toward drinking in public? Soon you’ll be making equally poor decisions.

Any good points?

In comparison to Ireland’s other large urban areas, Galway is far more affordable, due in large part to lack of access to an international airport. Once you’re here you won’t be leaving quickly.

Situated on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, Galway has some of the best seafood in the world. Enjoy convincing yourself that ready access to mussels is worth spending 90 per cent of the year indoors sheltering from the massive ocean storms that batter the city.

During the summer the streets in the Latin Quarter are filled with a plethora of buskers playing traditional music late into the night. If you’re excited by dozens of bearded septuagenarians with tin whistles serenading you as you pass, this is a major plus. Otherwise it’s just culturally-excused noise pollution.

A huge number of working poets live in Galway. Consider the status of poets in today’s society and whether you would wish to be among them before visiting.

Wonderful landscape?

With the wilderness of Connemara a short drive west, you’re within spitting distance of more bogland than you know what to do with. There’s very little to be done with big muddy fields that you can drown in.

On the other hand, if you like being stuck in a traffic jam on a regional road because some sheep are ambling about the central divide, you’ll be in heaven. It’ll make a marvellous postcard. It makes for sheer driving frustration and possibly death, because those sheep really don’t understand the rules of the road. And if you want to write off your car against something more substantial, there are wild ponies.

Hang out at…

If you’ve ever wondered whether it was possible to eat a burger while simultaneously drunkenly fingering someone you’ve just met, why not head to Supermac’s on Eyre Square?

The Spanish Arch is a bit of old wall left to commemorate the fact that Spanish sailors used to come to Galway to sell wine and impregnate locals before pissing off again because they couldn’t stand the weather. Today, the Spanish Arch is the meeting point for some of the city’s more grizzled residents to drink cans of discount cider at noon.

The centre of Galway’s cultural night life is undoubtedly the Róisín Dúbh pub. With a nightly showcase of music, poetry and comedy, it’s full of infuriating, fanny-pack wearing American tourists who expect you to be thrilled that one of their great-etcetera-uncles lived here 150 years ago.

Where to buy?

If you’ve a sincere desire to live surrounded by posh Dubliners who’ve migrated west in search of cheaper property after ruining the capital, check out Salthill. While you’ll be resented by locals for contributing to gentrification, at least you’ll have an aquarium on your doorstep.

From the streets:

Lauren Hewitt, aged 34, said: “Why the f*** are the streets not paved? I’m sueing the council if I sprain my ankle walking in heels on shitting cobbles again.”

Tom Logan, former Londoner, says: “I wake up everyday and berate myself for moving to a city with weather so inhospitable not even trees can survive.”