It’s 2027 and Johnson is living the dream ... the American dream

FRIENDS, I want to set the record straight. Many ignorant people blame me for the break-up of the United Kingdom. But the truth is plain. If it was not for me taking Britain out of the European Union on October 31, 2019, then we would never have gotten rid of those annoying Celts.

It may look as if the Scots, Northern Irish and Welsh abandoned England of their own accord as the economy imploded in the early 2020s. But this was my master plan all along. As a result, I was able to set England on the road to reversing the Great Schism of 1776 with our American cousins. Today, thanks to me, England is now the 51st State of the American Union.

I take pride in the fact England is a net contributor in taxes to Washington and that our English Assembly is subject to the Supreme Court in DC. Pooling sovereignty makes us stronger in the world. Now every home in England has a chlorinated chicken in the pot – heated by cheap, fracked gas once the pipelines destroyed in the Great Blackpool Earthquake have been repaired. And our valiant soldiers and sailors have once again shown their bravery, in the Second Iranian War, despite the sad loss of the carrier HMS (more recently USS) Queen Elizabeth. With any luck, radiation levels across the Middle East will fall sufficiently to allow the global economy to recover from the recent depression. Meantime, the re-opening of British coal mines should go a long way to ending the electricity blackout caused by oil prices climbing to $200 a barrel.

I was able to embrace this vision for England because of my unique personal experience. Like my hero Winston Churchill I was born in New York, which makes me American. Come to think of it, Churchill wasn’t born in America, but he had a Yankee mum. I, on the other hand, was born on the Upper East Side of Manhattan in 1964. So there’s an excuse for me kowtowing to the White House – only joking. Later, my dad got a job (and a fat pension) with the European Commission. Thank God, or he could never have afforded the fees to send me to Eton.

The old Corbynista johnnies used to hark on that it cost £42,501 a year to send your little darling to Eton. But that’s amazingly democratic. Absolutely anyone with the cash can get into my old school. And the results of an Eton education are amazing – 18 out of the 52 British prime ministers went there.

That includes Pitt the Elder who won our empire from the bally French in the Seven Years War; the Duke of Wellington, who biffed Napoleon at Waterloo; Viscount Melbourne who tried to get his leg over good Queen Vicky; that old Liberal grouch Gladstone or Cable or whatever he was called; Anthony Eden, who we don’t talk about; Alec Douglas-Home (yes Eton is open to Scotchmen); and somebody called Cameron who was two forms down from me and a little squirt.

Now here’s something the lefties try to hide. They went to Eton too! Percy Shelley (who tried to blow up the old place with gunpowder) George Orwell, John Maynard Keynes, Guy Burgess and Rory Stewart. Whatever became of him, I wonder? After school I took a second-class degree at Oxford. That Cameron bloke got a first but that was in economics and politics, so doesn’t count. My degree was in Greats – Latin, Greek and classical history. Everybody except that Cameron knows a second in Greek and Latin is more important for running an empire – sorry, country – than economics. Besides, if you laid all the economists in the world end to end, they would never reach a conclusion.

After university, I did a bit of journalism on The Times. Unfortunately, I got sacked for inventing a quote. Here’s the thing: is it better to invent a quote that reads well and entertains, or should a journalist always tell the truth?

It’s a tough moral choice, isn’t it?

My experience on The Times led to being hired as Brussels correspondent for The Daily Telegraph – the editor was an old Oxford mate. I spent a few years denouncing the European Commission (my dad’s old employer). Again, folk claimed

I made up the stories, but it got me noticed. A few appearances on Have I got News for You and hey presto I was editor of The Spectator magazine and elected to Parliament for Michael Heseltine’s old seat. Frankly, Westminster bored me. However, I had the time to make lots of new female acquaintances.

In 2006, I campaigned to become rector of the University of Edinburgh, but those jocks voted me into third place behind some Green chappy and another journalist. Then The Spectator’s new chief executive, Andrew “Brillo” Neil, fired me for not paying enough attention to the magazine. Fortunately, I convinced The Telegraph to raise my fee to £5000 per column, so I wasn’t too out of pocket.

Next, I tried being mayor of London, but my destiny lay elsewhere. Back in Parliament in 2015, I was in position to lead the campaign during the European referendum. After a quick flick of a coin, I came out for Brexit.

The rest, as they say, is history. Theresa made me foreign secretary and I have to admit that few holders of that august office of state have made so many headlines in so short a time in the post. Fortunately, after my principled resignation, I was able to secure another lucrative weekly column from The Telegraph, for a fee of £275,000.

Finally came the fateful year 2019, when destiny at last knocked on my door. My apprenticeship had been a long one. Like Churchill I had my years in the political wilderness, especially when that weed Cameron was in charge. Like Winston, I have had my Gallipoli moment – being fired from The Times and The Spectator for incompetence or lying. Like Churchill I have devoted myself to producing great literature – he to winning a Nobel Prize, myself to appearing on chat shows. But both of us were loved by the English people for our intellect, courage, determination, fortitude and above all principles. Plus, I possessed blond hair.

True, Winston offered a Franco-British Union in 1940 but I like to think of his bombarding the Vichy Fleet as a more appropriate historical parallel with my hard Brexit of October 2019. Many politicians and commentators believed it was impossible to achieve a no-deal Brexit in a hung parliament. But they underestimated the sheer desperation of a disintegrating Conservative Party’s desire to cling to power – regardless of the economic consequences. It was my destiny to cross the Rubicon and lead the second Charge of the Light Brigade.