Today: The Sub-Prime Minister says he will obey the law, will not obey the law, will change the law, will amend the changed law, obey that law, but at the same time not obey that or any other law, phwaargh, why, why, why should I? I am the top boy, and, and, and, haaa, y’know. Goes faux-Churchillian – We, we, we, will never, ahhh, surrender

Also today: Tumpo trumpo twits it wasn’t me, I wasn’t there, I don’t have a telephone, I don’t speak to people, I never gave anyone a whistle, what is a U-crane, love Boris Whatshisname, great guy, great guy, he’s the Primo Monitor of a great place, somewhere in Yurrup. I just want to build a golf course everywhere, want to play around, I mean play a round with Kim Kong Wang. My Long Dong. Cum Long In. He has great balls, great balls.

Then: Farridge in garridge still taking umbridge, but can’t move for 17.4 million people in there. Has newt pet called Brexit. Where’s Brexit? Apparently squashed by 16.1 million waiting outside. Why have I not yet been appointed Grand Ducky of the Duchy of Somewhere? Can’t stop – must fly first class to Strasbourg Parliament which does not actually exist of course. Bozo tells him, “I, I, I, whaaaa I’ll, I’ll have you know. I’ll give you, give you, ahhh, a kick up the safe seat if you join my, ahhhhh party.

Next: Rugby World Cup – England lose 127-nil to Paraguay who are not even there, really, due to half the team of English rugger buggers being sent off for being proper buggers, biting, scratching, gouging, barging, and charging etc. All apologise – thought they were playing football after big night on sake sukiyaki yakitori and geisha parti. Bozo offers a hooker.

More: Minister for Something Or Other asked what will happen. Says “Thursday”. Asked again if anything will happen. Says “Yes, lovely day”. Asked again. Says “200 all out.” BBC interviewer implodes. O Jeremy Corby presses cabbages from allotment, sees doctor about nasty rash on arse. Doctor explains; rub this in – it’s from sitting on the fence too long. Leaves for urgent visit to Head Honcho of Hezbolla to escape bears in Parliament – much safer here in cave in Lebanon, he says. Ducks an incoming.

Still more: Sub-Prime Person looks for Con Conference in Lancaster Doncaster Tadcaster Cirencester and Dorchester. Finally taken in hand and led to Manchester. I, ahhh, y’know, always knew it was, phwaaargh here, of course. Nervously looks for support, needs Goings-Doings to hold his hand. Makes speech about great British cheese called Bruxitt or something and why can’t he find any? Condemns Jo Swinson as another bally Scottish nuisance. Refuses offer of haircut. Given stand-up ovation for best comic turn in town.

Will it never end?