Smarmy, flat-faced David Cameron gave dejected Andrew (call me Angela) Lansley, second most unpopular person in British history, (behind Hitler) the heave-ho this week and replaced him with Baboon Brained Jeremy Hunt (call me *unt!) in a reshuffle aimed at confusing the British electorate into thinking the country wasn't being run by idiots and inbreds.
Lansley became famous overnight when his liaison with a medic in a toilet near Bristol made national news. Cameron seized the opportunity and made him Minister of Health hoping that the Tories plans to dismantle the N.H.S would be lost under an avalanche of saucy press releases. The plan failed and it became apparent all too quickly that making Lansley M.o.H was akin to making Rommel a sex-change specialist; barmy,
Cameron's attention was soon drawn to the looney in the headband blowing bubbles across the House of Commons floor who insisted on calling other members '' and 'Man'. This turned out to be Jeremy Hunt, ex porn star and Baker's Weekly centerfold, May 1963.
When told he'd been made Minister of Health he asked if that meant he was in charge of the fairies. Cameron explained Health had nothing to do with Elves and that provided he turned up and didn't talk to anyone his pay would go in and he's get to meet the queen at the end of his contract.
When news of the appointment leaked ten leading heart specialists booked into their own surgeries with heart-flutters and a hundred psychiatrists phoned the Samaritans helpline saying they felt depressed.
A shocked insider told this reporter, Cameron only did it so people would have a better person to knock beside Fattie Osborne. He was booed and jostled as he queued up for pie and mash outside the Olympic Stadium last week. After shoving twelve pies and a portion of chips down his cake-hole Osborne bleated. 'They make me sick, Just because I'm fabulously rich they think I can be treated like this. Just wait till next year, they'll see...'
Osborne was referring to secret government plans to introduce a breath tax in the forthcoming parliament. The tax would see people paying for every gasp they make thus hitting those Booing and Jeering in the pocket.
People suffering with chronic halitosis will not have to pay thereby saving every politician a fortune.
People who are short of breath will have to undergo an ATHOS assessment and if it can be established that their lungs keep them alive they will still have to pay.
Of course the Queen and Mad Phil will be exempt. (As both are Un-dead they do not qualify)