Despite backdoor approaches and offers of which I remain unable to declare the information and detailing of, I have decided I cannot accept the position of Deputy Mare with the Mare Boris "D'oh"Johnson.
Clearly we have masses in common:
- youthful charm
- vitality
- shady but exuberant love lives
- wives (or similar)
- a soaring genius concealed by public idiocy
- mop-top blondy-greyness
- a pseudo-mastery of the broad vision-thing
- chunkiness
- a supremely legendary yet appalling grasp of detail
- a concern about just how far a bendy bus will bend
- clubbability
But me being of simple Anglo-Irish stock and English coming to me only as a subliminal language, I can't be doing with his Eton hinterland. I'm too much of a self-made power-broker and all round good guy. And the London thing is a bit too limiting of my ambitionery.
So, sorry your Borissness, but you'll have to thrust your portfolio up someone else.
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