CUT TO: Boris Winton dashing with a wonky trolley through the Value Valley of Death / all squinty eyes and minty breath / a big-haired, bad-mouthed, Supermarket Macbeth / out of luck and out of his depth / smiling & waving at all the MPs misbehaving / and though none of them seem to impress him a lot / even he can see that the place is hot / and he’d better be grateful for whatever he’s got
CUT TO: Boris Marat eating a hard cheese salad in his big tin bath / having a soak, having a laugh / when in comes Farage for his autograph / pulls out a knife from his Union Jack corset / and the next thing you know the PMs bought it / and Farage gets punished for his act of treachery / with a column in the Telegraph and a job in the Treasury
CUT TO: Boris Who striding out of the Tardis / hawing and guffawing and saying now what IS this? / those EU Daleks are REALLY taking the piss / they’re all like: Information! and Negotiation! while exterminating the Brits / but sadly, his sonic screwdriver’s reduced to thrummings / ‘cos the battery’s been nicked by his assistant Cummings
CUT TO: Boris ‘Tom’ Jones hiding in the cupboard / with his pants on his head for ol’ Mother Hubbard / but when she gets there / and finds him and the cupboard bare / she goes completely spare / all Travis Bickle / beats him to death with a gherkin pickle / ‘That’s what you get for screwing up the shopping!’ / then happily gets out her mop and starts mopping
Meanwhile, down in the crematorium,
at least one successful British emporium,
Look! There’s Auntie Ollie! Waving from the plate!
C’mon on in, Jim – the Covid’s great!