Chris Philph Diary of a Nobody's Nobody
April 2024
April 15
Radio silence for 6 weeks now. The Rish 'Attack Dog clearly did not put me on the 'waiting list' at all. I've snuk into the 1922 Committee in order to enthusiastically bash a few desk-lids when the Leader walks in; I've posted myself by the door for PMQ's to cheer as the Rishmeister enters – all to no avail. I even heard his Short-Trouserdness enquiring of Vicki Atkins ' who is that loud brash person by the door with a face like a weasel.' I am beyond depressed. Even my darling, Lizzie can't shake me out of this one.
April 16
I've been reading the Lettuce's new book. Well not the whole book just the chapter on how she planned to lock up all the Judges in the Supreme Court – interesting but a bit radical for me. I had just got to the bit on 'the Deep State' – as Lettuce says 'call me paranoid but it doesn't mean they're not out to get you', when the emergency phone goes off, (easily recognised with its Blues and 2s ringtone).
“Philff, is that you?”
“Yes, who's this?”
It's SuperRish, of course, but you can call me Prime Minister. Now look here, I've been consulting my spreadsheet 'Press Gang' - it's a list of loyal MPs (It's not a long list to be fair) I can call upon to deal with the media when the solids hit the fan. Well you know my reputation is for straightforward honesty and integrity so I must confess I was surprised , for obvious reasons,to see your name had made it onto the spreadsheet.
The thing is Philf we are in deep, deep doo doo (I think he means deeper, deep doo doo).. Not only are the Cnuts in the Lords slowing down the Rwanda thing, which was already a 'shit show' but some MP from Oop North has been giving his mates' contact details to some perv while Mark 'the Minger's' tapping up a constituent for £5k to pay off 'bad boys' he invited into his flat..
So, are you in?'
“Oh no, PM I'm straight as a die, no skeletons. Nothing to declare!” says I
“ I know that, Philph. I've done my research. You're uninteresting to the point of boredom, which is exactly what I need.' I mean are you 'in' to meet and greet the media.
“ Oh, rather, what do you want me to do?” (Good old Nad he said I only needed to wait patiently)
“You can take your choice really: Kickass Kinnsberg on Grinder Wagg; Pesto on Mark The Minger or little Ms Perfect Bruce on Rwanda.”
“ In that case I'll go for Fifi” I say, hardly concealing my excitement.
“Excellent; that's a done deal then. Talking of which, my advice is to get rid of those Thames Water shares right away... unless of course you're 'shorting'. “ He rings off...
April 15
Nadine has kindly agreed to fire a few 'awkward questions about Rwanda at me in preparation for 'Trial by Ms Perfect' “
NZ: Why have the Rwanda flights been delayed?
Filph:. Because of those Lefty woke peers getting in the way of democracy (Note to self: 'don't we have a majority of Tory peers?')
NZ: Rish has found 150 judges to staff the 'Rwanda Courts', so how come rape cases are taking 18 months to come to court for shortage of court time?
A: We are laser focussed in MoJ in achieving timely focus.
NZ: The maximum number of asylum seekers Rwanda can take, if all goes well, is 500. Isn't that a drop in the ocean when the backlog of asylum claims is in excess of 150,000?
Filph: We have cleared record numbers of asylum claims in the last 6 months.
NZ: Is Rwanda really a safe place when it has been ruled for the last 24 years by a dictator, who has ruthlessly suppressed any opposition to his regime?
Filph: In the last election Paul Kagame gained 99% of the vote. This is the sort of approval rating we can only dream of.
Nad tells me that if I stick to these answers come what may, then No10 will be ecstatic
April 19
The big day has arrived at last. I thought the Beeb would send me a limo to get me to the venue in Buxton but instead of that I'm plonked on a train to Manchester (never been this far North before!!) then on some ghastly bus on wheels, which is full of Mancs out for a day in the country.
I play a blinder with Brucie smiling encouragingly every time I stonewall a question. Then just as I'm flying high some 'Woker' , who slipped through the Question Time vetting procedure asks me a geography question, like I'm doing a GCSE paper. I ask you how am I supposed to know that Rwanda isn't the same place as Congo? Hutsy, Tutsy what does it matter as long as HM Gov is shovelling shed loads of filthy lucre (not Philpy lucre of course!!) into your dodgy banking system?
Anyway, my minor re-drawing of the map of Central Africa brings the house down with the 'Wokerati of North Derbyshire (who have clearly been bussed in specially) hooting away fit to bust. Of course, I immediately employ the Old Ali shuffle (No Islamaphobe me!) to get out of trouble but alas the damage is done. It's a disaster. I slink away after the show, unable to face post-match drinks in Ms Perfect's dressing room.
April 20
Past Midday and I'm still hiding in bed; head under the pillow when Lizzie enters with ' the cup that cheers' in one hand and my mobile in the other. She hands me the phone without a word; a faint smile playing on her gorgeous face.
“Hello, Philf, Rish here, although you can call me Prime Minister. I just wanted to send congratulations and heartfelt thanks for yesterday. Your Rwanda/Congo shtick was just the ticket. You had 'em on a string. Where did you learn this 'Pretend I'm Hopelessly Out of Touch routine...?
“Well, Prime Minister; it comes naturally for the likes of us...”
That's All Folks!
