POLITICAL SATIRE

A Very Merry Tory (Christmas) Party

A look at what really went down in the latest Downing Street scandal

It was 18th December 2020, when Boris Johnson stood outside Downing Street and declared: “It’ll come without ribbons, it’ll come without tags, it’ll come without packages, boxes or bags!”

After stealing Christmas at the last possible minute by imposing strict lockdown restrictions and limiting the mixing of households, Boris and pals, it has emerged, then proceeded to have a right big piss up in Number 10 to celebrate.

Reports began to circulate after a video initially released by ITV suggested something funny was going on:

And now, according to a source in my own head who wishes to stay anonymous, the full story has been revealed of what really happened that night.

After making his speech and apologising for breaking the British public’s hearts this Christmas, Boris trundled off inside Number 10 clutching a blue shopping bag filled with cheap lager.

Dominic Raab and Sajid Javid were already there and had laid out a nice spread of cheeses, cocktail sausages, pickled onions, and tuna sandwiches. As Boris arrived, the three got started on some “pre-drinks” by having a quick game of ring of fire.

Slowly but surely the guests started to arrive. It was strictly a BYOB deal, but a few of the lower-level members of the cabinet, who hadn’t quite figured out how to play the expenses system, showed up empty-handed and apologising that they were short of cash.

But Boris was understanding and didn’t hold this against them. He’d stocked up on Carling and Apples Sourz the day before, so there was no danger of the party running dry. One thing that was in short supply, however, as Number 10 started to fill, were chairs, mostly because Jacob Rees-Mogg was lying down on a sofa and refusing to budge. Nonetheless, no one let this ruin their evening.

The DJ arrived at around 10 pm and was immediately instructed to start playing “Sweet Caroline” and not stop until told otherwise. On the 12th loop, Boris picked up the microphone, encouraged by Priti Patel, and started singing the Beastie Boys “Fight for your right to party” on karaoke.

Things threatened to take a turn, however, when Rishi Sunak showed up in a full suit and tie holding his red briefcase. He grabbed the mike off Boris before he could finish the final chorus and told the DJ to cut the music. Everyone hurled boos his way in protest.

“While you lot have been partying, I’ve been working on the winter budget,” the Chancellor of the Exchequer said, lifting his briefcase and giving it a shake.

But Rishi couldn’t keep a straight face, and the boos quickly turned to cheers when the briefcase was opened to reveal three bottles of Jagermeister inside. Arriving late, Rishi was told to do seven jagerbombs back to back to catch up, and he was vomiting in the kitchen sink within an hour.

At some point, Michael Gove appeared with a white bag in his hand and started doing the macarena. Everyone knew what this meant and lined up at the coffee table, where he began cutting fat lines of coke. Meanwhile, as people broke off into their own little cliques and the dancefloor emptied, former PM Theresa May remained, and the DJ started playing ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” much to the amusement of her colleagues.

She’d had her drink spiked with MD the moment she arrived and at first everyone found it hilarious, but three hours of dancing later, her husband was called to come pick her up when some grew concerned.

In one corner of the room, a group of MPs sat on the floor and started a game of spin the bottle, but this ended abruptly when Matt Hancock’s spin landed on his aide. Shortly later the pair disappeared, presumably upstairs for a fumble in the PM’s bed.

A game of truth or dare started in its place. Thoroughly sauced after narrowing winning the annual beer pong tournament for the third successive year, Boris was forced to choose ‘dare’, not being trusted with the other option, and told to make a prank call to Jeremy Corbyn. When the former Labour Party leader answered on the third ring, evidently having just woken up, Boris mumbled something about an allotment, called him a communist, then hung up to a series of high fives and laughter. They topped this off by demanding the DJ play Eiffel 65’s “Blue”, and the group started bouncing up and down, arms linked, singing along.

The highlight of the evening, at least for the men, was when a Roly Poly stripper arrived just after midnight and was used as a serving platter for more shots and coke. She was swiftly whisked off to a backroom by a gaggle of MPs and was never seen again.

But all good things must come to an end, and by 5 am, the party began to fizzle out. Most of the guests had all either gone home, exhausted, or had fallen asleep spooning one another on the floor. Although the music had stopped some time ago, the DJ was still there, refusing to leave until he was paid but struggling to get any sense out of a shirtless Boris Johnson, who was sobbing and talking about how he missed being London Mayor. Eventually, Boris signed him a cheque and the bill was, of course, written off as an expense the very next day.

Boris trundled off upstairs but finding his bedroom door was locked, he headed to the next best place and curled himself around the toilet bowl.

It was said his shrivelled heart shrank three sizes that night.

In summary, a good time was had by all.

All except the British public, that is.

It has taken a year for the reports of this party to emerge, and the public is understandably furious. The Opposition are rubbing their hands together at the opportunity of lambasting Boris at the next PMQs, and even Tory backbenchers are said to be disappointed, although it isn’t clear at this stage whether that’s because the Party has betrayed public trust or because they weren’t invited.

The Queen meanwhile, was said to be in “utter dismay” about the prospect of having to rewrite her Christmas speech and remove the section about us all being “in it together.”

But the real losers here, as usual, are the British Public, who were forced to remain locked in their houses alone, forgoing the usual Christmas dinner with the family for a plate of microwaved pigs-in-blankets and an awkward Zoom call with their grandmother.

And with Christmas looming once more, it seems inevitable that the same thing will happen again.

After all, it is their responsibility to stop the spread of the virus, the British public are repeatedly told, with the subtext being that it certainly isn’t the government’s problem.

But to be fair, what else can we expect from a government so irresponsible?

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