Boris to Boggis

Since the Beeb have put paid to the Met the weather in the South East has definitely deteriorated, possibly a conspiracy brought on by the Remainians of which I am one. Am I in Denial? No I am in the blue blue grass of Kent.

As ever thoughts arise sitting on the garden swing during a freak spot of sunshine keeping an eye on my granddaughter playing with her toys. Will there be a coup de grace for Boris or shall I cut the grass when time for her morning snooze arrives?' Can you give me three minutes to boil you an egg ?' shouts the wife. I say 'Go' as a plane flies overhead en route to City Airport. I say 'Three minutes is up' as the next plane traverses the greying Gravesham skies. 'Are up' says my granddaughter.

The planes will be lower, louder and more frequent after Boris reverts to Boggis and casts his sights from Europe to Tory leader. The deafening clamour will increase tenfold if The Battle for Britain and our allies is lost and he builds his island not in the sun but in the Thames, drowning out the plaintive cries against the second crossing which is the third runway of these parts.

Kent Being a sort of car park already for Operation Stack, a further storey for Ebbsfleet & Paramount won't make a lot of difference will be the underlying strategy.

'Underground, overground, frack it for free, so incredibly, utterly devious are we. Let's muddy the waters so that we can be clear, we peddle in despondency, distrust and despair.'

Like Fantastic Mr Fox (Pictured) I tell one and all that it'll be fine even though I'm not so sure myself.