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Shower Thoughts: Suella Braverman vs the Wokerati Blob

Somewhere near Dover

Suella Braverman had stood vigil by the white cliffs for days. It was just her, her binoculars and a 19th-century battleaxe. Hardly the army she wanted to fight the incoming invasion of starving and malnourished refugees she expected but it would have to do. She’d stood guard for so long, she was sure Macron could smell her across the Channel. So, when it began to snow, she took the opportunity to go back to her bunker for a shower. After all, these refugees had snuck out of war-torn countries, braved torture, arrest, suffocation in the back of transport vans et cetera and were now preparing to cross the Channel despite the high risk of drowning, so they clearly couldn’t handle a sprinkle of snow.

Suella started to undress for the shower. After removing her clothes and letting her tail swing free, she carefully took off the wig and relished the feeling of air on her horns. The water started to run. It was cold at first and Suella frowned. The water was part of the left-wing wokerati blob, she thought, just before it began to run hot. She stepped in and marvelled at the week’s events.

It had started well – Suella had released a stellar bill to parliament and the people. It had been her first attempt at saving the public from the Great Small Boat Invasion and she expected her medal of valour to arrive in 4-5 business days. She had warned everyone of the danger of the millions who would be trying to get to Britain. Some had replied with disbelief that so many would want to come here. But how could they not? Who wouldn’t want to come to a country where you would almost certainly be abused by the media for the colour of your skin and evicted from your house at a moment’s notice? It’s the royal treatment!

But the week quickly went downhill. First, the wokerati blob had levelled her with accusations of human rights breaches. Didn’t they know ‘human rights’ was a social media-manufactured fad created by liberal, critical-race-supporting, JK Rowling-hating snowflakes? Wake up, Sheeple!

Then, Gary Lineker suggested her advert was something out of 1930s Germany! Utterly ridiculous – she’d re-purposed a speech by Oswald Mosely, he was British. Besides, footballers should stay out of politics and stick to the job they know. You’d certainly never find a politician engaging in sports. They’d never, for example, enter a televised dance competition, in which they’d find themselves thrown around the floor by Anton Du Beke. That’d simply never happen. And the nerve of Lineker! To publish his thoughts on a personal Twitter account rather than say them on Match of the Day – it was much harder to discipline him this way.

As Suella mulled this over, she furiously scrubbed at her scalp. Seething at the events of the week, she failed to notice a drip of soap making its way down her forehead. It fell into her eyes. Suella screamed at the sting and rubbed her eyes. Slowly, she regained her composure and sight. She stared at the bar of soap before smashing it against the wall. Take that wokerati blob!

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