We skipped the Prime Minister, with that slight flippancy that has happily returned in recent weeks, confirming that our long winter imprisonment is finally coming to an end.
Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to take the second step. Freedom awaits you. Next Monday, the beer pumps will toast again with the heartwarming burst of amber nectar; hairdressers hurray! can resume inquiries about where we were going for our vacation (nowhere at the moment, guv).
The nail bars will also be free to cut clients’ cuticles and apply their glossy hairspray. Priti Patel will be delighted. It’s been a while since these claws had good sharpness.
But … Boris intoned, his voice dropping half an octave of warning. The shoulders bowed, the head fell.
We skipped the Prime Minister confirming that our long winter imprisonment is finally coming to an end
Ah. Always a stammering race but in Bojos for freedom. We cannot be complacent, he insisted. We are encouraged to have tests twice a week to keep the Covid threat at bay.
At this rate, in the fall, everyone had more time to deal with lab results than dubious Soviet weightlifters.
And so back, we were in the new Downing Streets briefing room, this weird, bright blue creation that could double as a Liberaces boudoir.
Being a holiday, figures like Tony Blair or David Cameron might have gone for something a little more casual, but Boris luckily donned a suit. Wise. From what we’ve seen previously of her weekend hat and shorts wardrobe.
Yet what a lighter figure he is. The costume is so loose that it hangs like a kimono. Certainly no choccie eggs for him this weekend.
If he continues like this, our blessed cheesemakers will have to issue profit warnings. But this hairstyle from Vicky Pollard! Yeah, but no, Bozza!
Next to the Prime Minister were his former act of support, Chris Whitty and Sir Patrick Vallance. Whitty stood perfectly straight and still. For a moment, I thought someone had leaned a cardboard cut out on the lectern on top of him.
Perhaps he was practicing his pose for when he goes to the palace to retrieve his chivalry: recent reports claim it’s in the bag.
The costume is so loose that it hangs off him like a kimono – definitely no choccie eggs for him on the weekends
Soon it was time for the usual next slide stuff please. Yawn. Until then, it was sort of a lighthearted press conference. So trust the dreary old Whitty Bucket to bring us all back to earth.
He reminded us that Covid will cause us significant problems for the foreseeable future. Groan. Vallance added nothing. There might have been an alfresco dinner to go to. Or maybe Whitty had just infected him with her sadness.
A person named Catherine wanted to know when the elderly would be allowed to visit beer gardens, which she asked on behalf of her 94-year-old grandmother. What a granny of cats must be! Boris mentioned that he, too, was keen to get off as quickly as possible and carefully put a pint to his lips.
The Prime Minister in a beer garden surrounded by beer revelers? It will be a fun trip for his security service.
Much of the media questioning was about vaccine passports. Boris preferred to call them Covid status certificates.
Yeah, I never would have done that.
Just before leaving, he successfully searched London Mayor Sadiq Khan for squandering Transport for London’s finances. Well, the mayoral elections are approaching.
And with that, it was back to the residence for a mouth-watering vegan dinner.
