Dear Nicola

Dear Nicola

Thank you for your letter this week regarding my impending visit to your regional area of our glorious country. 

Although I’m always pleased to hear from you, and others like you, involved in the administration of our various geographical areas, I’d like to take this opportunity in my response to set out my position clearly. Clarity as you are probably aware being one of my key strengths as a leader.

Firstly, I won’t be meeting with you. You are not a political leader of an equivalence to my level. Using a cricketing analogy, I am the captain of the England first eleven at Lords, and you are a fielder at silly mid-off for a scratch village pub side.  

I am the Prime Minister of our glorious, revitalised, independent Great Britain, re-launching ourselves as a leading player on the world stage, you are a glorified mayor of a provincial area we mainly use for hunting and fishing, storing weapons of mass destruction and redirecting income from natural resources. I deal in G8 summits, you deal in baby boxes.

I’m aware that you, and your inflated band of parish councillors, laughingly described as a government, (we thought we were stretching it a bit by originally describing you as an ‘Executive’) have been in regular contact with my Chancellor to the Duchy of Lancaster during all of this Covid-19 business. 

Although I understand the need for the regions to contact the centre of government during such a crisis, frankly I find the need for a Minister of his level’s involvement to be a waste of his valuable time. He could, and should, be out and about in the international business community and the corporate sector seeking ways to maximise party donations for favours, his real job, rather than liaising with the likes of you, at your level. 

If we let this interaction continue we are in danger of every Tom, Dick and Henrietta in local government from Abingdon to Yeovil pestering us for favours, things like equity, parity and co-operation.

It must stop. Therefore I’d be grateful if you could leave the subject of future liaison between yourselves, up there where you are, and us, your bona-fide government, with me to consider, and ruminate until we all forget about it. 

Incidentally I am currently of the view that it is also not appropriate for our hunting, fishing and arranger of weekend jolly-ups on his country estate Minister, Alister Jack, to be involved either in any liaison with your government as this would involve us having to expend much effort and money to raise his profile to the extent that the average Scot actually recognises that he is supposed to be our government’s representative in their region, in effect the real leader of the place, outranking yourself of course.

Putting it simply, we just don’t want to talk to you. You never have anything nice to say to us. It’s just not cricket old girl. Your face does not fit.

To finish I’d like to make it absolutely crystal clear to you that in no way am I avoiding you. It would be entirely incorrect of you to think I am intimidated by others who have a far greater understanding and knowledge of vital national issues than I do, individuals who make themselves aware of detail to an extent that frankly I am not prepared to submit myself to, due to my highly inflated sense of self-greatness, limited intellectual capacity and inability to retain information, other than on occasion , at parties, being able to recite in alphabetical order, the names of my offspring. I like a good joke though.

Be assured I am not un-nerved by your presence, or by the rousing warm welcome I would surely have received once again if I had managed to find time, during my visit this week to Scotland, to meet with you in Edinburgh. Entering a building by the front door and then leaving again by the back door allows one so much more time to study the internal architecture of buildings such as Bute House. I think last time I even discovered the room where you keep the fridges, a particular interest of mine.

I look forward to my visit to Scotland, mixing as equals with a heavily vetted hand-picked cross section group of ordinary everyday Tory voters, behind a security cordon, pressing some flesh, insulting some Covid-19-exhausted health professionals by patronising them, perhaps munching a tea cake or two, some luxury haggis, or sampling a ‘wee dram’ with my good friend and colleague Murray Ross, before a short trip to whichever branch of the armed services Tory HQ want me to be photographed with this time to emphasise how important it is that we defend our great nation by keeping our nuclear weapons in yours. 

You’ll catch it all on your TV and radio media bulletins, of that I can assure you.

Yours

Boris

#Borisisafeartie