Thursday, 13 September 2012

13/09/12 - JuicyPips Cabinet Reshuffle Guide

Politics? Confusing load of old toffee-nosed ballbaggery, isn’t it? Blah-de-blah is the new minister for something-or-other… it’s hard to keep up with it all. Particularly if you’re an unashamedly left-wing cynic who finds yourself constantly repulsed and disgusted by the thought of a Conservative government. Still, there’s not a lot we can do about them, is there? (I mean, there was, except that the Great British public are such an apathetic bunch of hapless dullards that very few of them could be arsed to vote. Regretting it now, hopefully. Although maybe they really don’t give a shit, and genuinely believe that ‘they’re all the same’. It’s that sort of attitude that keeps winning European seats for the BNP. But I digress…)
You may have yawned yourself into a corner during the recent reshuffle so, for the benefit and fascination of all, here’s the JuicyPips Guide to the 2012 Cabinet Reshuffle – who’s stayed, who’s moved, who’s who. Hurrah! Truths proven and myths dispelled henceforth, this is all true. Honest.

Transport Secretary

The new TS is Patrick McLoughlin – an inspired choice given that he can’t drive and doesn’t totally understand what cars are for. (Indeed, for the first twenty-five years of his life he assumed that they were something akin to insects, swarming in urban areas and occasionally buzzing across the countryside in search of sustenance.) He’s never been on a plane, train, bus, ferry, hovercraft, bicycle, tram or any other form of transport whatsoever, and doesn’t even like walking that much. This fresh perspective allows him to generate entertaining and sideswiping new transport policies with gay abandon, always keeping his peers and the public on their toes. ‘Fuck it,’ he slurs, liberally splashing whisky about the place from his oversized crystal tumbler, ‘why can’t everyone just be happy where they are? Can we impose heavy taxes on movement? I remember when this was all fields…’
Strange man.

Communities Secretary
The Communities Secretary is Eric Pickles. He is the estranged husband of batty American actress Christina Pickles (you know, she played Ross & Monica’s mum in Friends), who now spends much of his time near the deli counter in his local supermarket hoovering up the free samples with his mighty jaws. You won’t be surprised to learn that ‘Pickles’ isn’t the egg-headed fellow’s real name, but one he was furnished with by his mocking classmates thanks to his seemingly boundless capacity for ingesting finger foods. This is a legacy that Christina is sadly lumbered with for no clear or logical reason.
Eric lives in Staincliffe with a woman named Irene, which doesn’t sound true but is. As is the fact that he is a “flag enthusiast”.

Health Secretary
Jeremy Hunt fills this role. There is a word that perfectly describes Jeremy Hunt but, due to numerous lengthy discussions with HR, I’m not allowed to use it in JuicyPips any more. But it rhymes with Hunt. Remove the ‘h’ and replace it with a ‘c’. It’s like ‘count’, but without the ‘o’. Yeah? Geddit? Yeah? Eh?
Hunt once shot a peasant who was pilfering parsnips from the family estate’s vegetable garden. Right through the heart. With a harpoon. Then he ripped out the poor wretch’s entrails and wore them as a cape, whilst dancing a merry jig and singing ‘I’m a Hunt! I’m a Hunt! Everybody says I’m a Hunt!’.

Business Secretary
Vince Cable is a total Hunt as well. One of the few Liberal Democrats who’s been allowed to play in Cameron’s bizarre and fragmented game of politi-chess, Cable likes to pass the weekends ripping the heads off swans in the park, then posting them through the letterboxes of his constituents. On more than one occasion these constituents have visited his office to flag the issue as a concern, and have found him propping the headless swan carcasses around a child-sized table and pouring them invisible cups of tea from a plastic teapot. Fucking lunatic.

Chief Whip
Andrew Mitchell begged for this role, because he thought it sounded funny. Previous positions held by Mitchell include ‘Head Fondler’, ‘Autonomous Tart’ and ‘Buttock-in-Chief’, so this was a natural progression for him.
Interesting fact about Andrew: he has had full sex with every man and woman in Birmingham, which is a frankly staggering achievement. Particularly since he looks like a bad waxwork of Peter Stringfellow.
Among his duties are convincing Tory backbenchers to acknowledge the presence of the Lib-Dems, living in a massive house and grinning creepily in press shots, although he has the discipline not to let this take up all of his time. Many Brummies turn eighteen every day. There’s always ‘work’ to be done there.

Environment Secretary
Owen Paterson drives a Bentley Mulsanne, burns old fridges for fun and always leaves his TV on standby. Yeah, fuck you environment!

Culture Secretary
Maria Miller was always going to be a shoo-in for this post. She once appeared in an am-dram performance of The Mikado in Basingstoke, and she has almost every episode of Rising Damp on VHS. She really enjoyed seeing Jurassic Park at the cinema, owns two Simply Red cassettes and quite often skims through Cotswold Life to keep herself up to date. She’s thoroughly looking forward to the next Harry Potter book, and is keen to learn more about a new pop group called Oasis she heard about on the wireless.

Conservative Chairman
Grant Shapps once punched a bear to death. Seriously, the man is dangerous. Do not approach him. If you see him acting suspiciously, inform a grown-up.

Treasury Secretary
On a mad whim, Cameron attempted to tick a ‘diversity’ box by handing this role to the substantially disabled Danny Alexander. His disability? Why, his face is far, far too small for his head. Google it, you’ll see. Unfortunately for Call-Me-Dave, Alexander has no knowledge, qualifications or experience of any sort of maths-related work that might lend itself to the successful fulfilment of the tasks at hand for the Treasury Secretary, as he has spent much of his life hiding under bridges, trying to evade the hordes of villagers wielding pitchforks and flaming torches, keen to banish the creepy-faced goon before he infects their womenfolk with his bizarre facial handicap. Obviously this face thing isn’t his fault, poor lamb, but you shouldn’t dole out positions of power to inappropriate people just because you feel sorry for them. This is the principle issue that threatens the coalition government’s already ragged credibility: a fundamental and belligerent unwillingness to think things through.

…there are numerous others in the cabinet, but frankly the thought of discussing Tories for longer than I already have done is making my blood itch. Besides, it probably isn’t JuicyPips’ place to point out what an inept, corrupt, reprehensible shower of berks, philanderers, shoplifters, covert terrorists and livestock-molesters they may or may not be. Don’t worry, we’re all in safe hands. Everything’s fine. Relax. Don’t panic. It’s OK. Really. Stay calm. Have another drink. Shhhh.

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