Theresa May deserves to be Prime Minister.
That’s a statement I never thought I’d utter in a million years, but I stand by it. And it’s not because of her famously flimsy attachment to her policies; nor the querulous tremble in her voice whenever she’s asked a question that makes her uncomfortable; it’s not because she’s set the benchmark for slogan repetitions or because she’s got all the bungling awkwardness of an oarsman with haemorrhoids.
Though I admire all of that.
Theresa May is the only mainstream politician putting our great country back where it belongs: at the forefront of a nuclear calamity.
I can already hear morally-confused lefties grumbling in-between mouthfuls of soya yoghurt: ”but we would kill millions of innocent people.”
Yes, but only if their government bombed us first. Revenge is always sweeter filtered through the mangled corpses of children, and it’s not like we’d have started it.
Of course, the mass cremation of toddlers aside, there’s the fallout to consider too. It’s only fair we let our enemies know what we’re planning: that way, they can divide their people up into those who want to bow out in a glorious riot of fire and light, and those who would prefer the more insidious effects of radiation poisoning.
I was so pleased that the issue of nuclear deterrence got raised on Question Time on 2/6/17. Theresa May categorically outlined her willingness to reduce whole populations to smouldering mounds of flesh not so long ago, but sadly, it largely went under the radar at the time.
Finally, we got to the real nitty-gritty of this 2017 general election: would Jeremy Corbyn be prepared to offer a retaliatory strike if Britain was itself hit by a nuclear bomb?
The UK facing stagnating wages; the fixed 1% wage increase for the nursing industry; the apparent inability of our Prime Minister to talk about any Brexit plan; the decline in teaching standards….well never mind all that! What everyone wanted to know was:
When nuclear disaster strikes the UK, who can we rely on to turn enemy states into luminous wastelands? Well, not Jeremy Corbyn. He proved that he lacks the steely psychopathy necessary to rule our fair land.
And he’s revealed a selfish side in the process. I mean, imagine for a minute that London was incinerated in a nuclear blast: wouldn’t it give some solace to the grieving mothers and fathers if they knew that we had slaughtered numberless legions of babies as recompense?
The old socialist just doesn’t think about these kinds of things: he’s blinded by his crusade for social justice and wealth redistribution, and can’t see past being scrupulously decent.
There is only one olive branch that Corbyn can grasp at this point, and it belongs to his ”magic money tree”. It’s well known that Cbeebies have been in discussion with the Labour leader, so that if the public doesn’t bother to read his manifesto, then he can star as the eccentric owner of a magical oak that grants the impossible:
”Mr Corbyn, can you wish my tuition fees away?”
”But of course! I’ll just increase corporation ta – I mean; I’ll just use my special powers!”
It’s bound to be a hit.
Meanwhile, the fabled ”red button” lies behind some large metallic door; speakers overhead playing a modern techno rendition of ”Rule, Britannia” on repeat as our intrepid leader dances giddily towards it.
Then, sometime later, the last vestiges of our imperial past will come crashing down on some hapless school-yard thousands of miles away…because, after all, ”they” started it.