Today, The Whip can reveal that Jacob Rees-Mogg has emerged as a key plank in the government’s evolving strategy to fight the novel coronavirus. His first patient: the Prime Minister.
“I only wish I could’ve been here earlier – perhaps less damage would have been done. My taste for Luddism may need to come under review. The analogue twitter system I have been experimenting with failed this stress-test: Boris’ pigeon only made it to the dovecote at elevenses. Serendipitously, I had been ponding all day, so was well stocked with leeches, newts, and so on and so forth. A quick trip to the dungeon to collect my other supplies, and I was off.”
Riding his trusty nag hard through the day and night, Rees-Mogg arrived at Downing Street just as dawn broke over London. Brandishing a cross and muttering in Latin served to disperse the medical team. He emerged a few hours later to make a quick statement.
“The patient is responding fairly well to treatment. The hole I bored in his skull is large enough to fit in quite a few leeches, so the situation is well in hand. Unfortunately, for some reason or other he has been unable to do much more than dribble at the present moment, so I’ve daubed him in some of my rarest ointments, and prescribed an intensive course of the greatest medicine known to man – prayer.
Ultimately, it is important to remember that the question is not how or when one will pass – but where one goes when one does. For Boris, I am most certain he is tending toward the upward direction. So even if I, or the devils multiplying within him, kill the man – we will be doing him something of a service. Fingers crossed though.”