DEAR Boris, I too am a bulbous pink figure with a toothy grin who went from media darling to widely despised irritant.
I know how you feel because like me you are a misunderstood comic genius. But a double act can only be as good as its stooge and fuck me did we have to carry a load with Edmonds and May.
There is no room for ‘needless self doubt’ in our type of comedy. Do you think I could stamp on an overstuffed suitcase with anything other than total commitment? You were the same. You hung onto the Brexit dream with the same conviction I would trash a tea-party, knowing the chaos it would cause but sticking with it because it’s bloody hilarious.
That said, I have to admit Brexit doesn’t make business sense to me. Benny Hill travelled incredibly well on the continent and historically Europeans can’t get enough of the clumsy antics of a portly English twit. But anyway.
Let’s not be maudlin, let’s revel in the unabashed self-promotion we used to get to the near-top, the kids we bulldozed, the absolute shit storm we caused. Know this Boris, there’s one person who gets you, one person still laughing, albeit in a terrifying electronically modified voice, me, your friend Mr Blobby.
