Smocks and Mirrors

 

 

'Of course it's all flummery, Owl says.'

'Sorry, Piglet, what is?'

'Politics.'

'Ah.'

'Nothing but smocks and mirrors.'

'Tchah.'

'I mean, look at the present management.'

'Must I?  Well, all right, for a minute.'

'All they've got to offer is a Quasi-Kwarteng.'

'Really?'

'True, Owl says.  Won't stump up for a real one.'

'Dear, oh dear.'

'And that Therese Coffin.'

'I thought it was Coffey.'

'Have you seen the way she gets through cigars?'

'Take your point.'

'And there's another called James Cleverly.'

'Need we go there?'

'Not at the end of a chilly day.  Mind you, someone said he was fairly decent.'

'So how did he end up among--?'

'Lost a bet?'

'That'd be the way of it.'

'I'd say so.  And not to mention Miss Truss.'

'Oh, I wouldn't.  But is she the one who has nightmares about being pursued by giant rounds of French cheese singing "Mademoiselle from Brexitieres"?'

'Still wakes up screaming.  Or rather, Wakes. Up. Screa. Ming.'

'She. Should. Dou. Ble. Her. Hor. Licks. In. Take.'

'She was a Loiner for a while, you know.'

'I wouldn't believe all they say on Tinder.'

'No, she lived in Leeds.'

'Oh, I see.'

'And spent a year in British Columbia.'

'Well, if you catch the wrong bus from the Headrow --'

'No, while her dad was working there.'

'Ah, right.'

'Enjoyed school there, she did. Said it was really good to be top of the class.'

'That's the beauty of one-to-one teaching, I suppose.'

'I suppose.'