Elections are boring. Important, yes, and let’s not forget it – but even Ed Miliband has become so fidgety that he’s gone searching for sparks with the nation’s favourite sex-addict. So here’s an alternative cabinet, chock-full of ministers who’ll shun parliamentary procedure and ram the ‘party’ back into party politics.
Education Secretary – Plato. Who’ll give students a fairer deal and stabilise the secondary education system? The answer: Plato. No messing about here. The great bearded one proved himself able when he established his Academy in 387 BC. Not only is this the last recorded instance of an academy actually working, but apparently, he didn’t charge fees to students. Common sense.
Home Secretary – Mary Berry. Central to Mary’s policies will be her offender rehabilitation scheme. Running under her slogan ‘Cupcakes, not custody’, she will lead cookery courses for those convicted of misdemeanours, during which short time, trials have shown, participants will be fully reformed.
Foreign Secretary – Bono. Only joking. The Live Aid legend would commendably protect the UK’s foreign aid budget, but alas, the ego – the last time he attempted to give people something for free, they gave it back. It would only be a matter of time before the British public became downright disgruntled and called for Gary Barlow as a ‘reprieve’. No, the ideal foreign secretary would combine strategic nous, a robust character and, crucially, a human heart, which means that only Scooby-Doo’s Velma is qualified. She’s been orchestrating her gang of monster-baiters for a number of years, and her confirmed ‘100% rustle-rate’ will ensure that she puts the jinkies into potential aggressors. Manifesto pledges include unmasking Vladimir Putin as an automaton. A record for altruism, although she raised eyebrows at a January conference when she appeared to mutter that her real reason for upgrading Trident was so that the next time anyone called her a ’’meddling kid’’ she could ‘’rain hellfire upon their soul’’, a rare gaffe in an otherwise exemplary career.
Chancellor of the Exchequer – Russell Brand. Has stated that he will stimulate the economy by rubbing his crotch against it, and will introduce a tax on saying any word containing fewer than seven letters. When asked about his stance regarding a mansion tax, Brand puzzlingly replied that ‘no one should vote’ on the matter, before returning to his £2m London flat. His manifesto opens with ‘’The comprehensive paradigm shift which we as a democratically entitled populace demand in order to satiate our revolutionary fervour towards the gluttonous corporate hegemony will only be substantiated through overthrowing the bureaucratic political system which has caused this country’s troubles.’’, loosely translated as ‘’Look at me, aren’t I wonderful?’’. You are, Russell.
Deputy Prime Minister – Gromit. Given that a hung parliament looks likely, it’s necessary to propose a candidate for the deputy PM role. Gromit isn’t a vocal politician but will ensure that the cogs of pragmatism and ethical responsibility whirr smoothly at the heart of his PM’s ‘Act-o-matic’ law-making machine inside number ten.
Prime Minister – Wallace. Put simply, the man knows how to make things work. Although he’s raised eyebrows by promising a referendum over whether cranberries should remain within Wensleydale cheese, he’s swept the floor in televised debates. Commentators suggest that this is largely because his three fiercest opponents are a rabbit, a penguin, and a vending machine: nevertheless, Wallace’s problem-solving mind, love of small business (he’s no career politician, having worked as a baker, a window cleaner and an astronaut over the years) and sophisticated palate ensure that he is the right person to lead Britain through the imminent civil conflict against the fanatical Jeremy Clarkson Defence League.