I thought if anything would finally see off Theresa May it would be a blizzard of white men in expensive cars. Apparently not, says Guardian columnist Hannah Jane Parkinson
On Sunday, in a sit-down meal probably a shade more horrific but less cerebral than that scene in Hannibal when a corrupt official is served a slice of his own brain to eat, Theresa May invited some of her cabinet to Chequers for Sunday lunch.
The guest list, Im sorry, was just a roll call of those now familiar basic white-boy names: David Davis, David Lidington, Damian Green, Dominic Raab, Steve Baker, Steve Barclay. Michael Gove, Alistair Burt and Boris Johnson were also invited, as were those excess-syllabic numpties Jacob Rees-Mogg and Iain Duncan Smith: so awful they named them both three times. I am not sure if there was a specific dress code, but you were not allowed to come if you were not an older white man (collectively known as a blizzard).
In total there were 13 guests around the dining table. This happens to be the same number of people who attended the last supper, which, as you can recall, turned out extremely well and was not at all a prelude to treachery and betrayal and zero people got nailed to a cross.
Before the first bottle of wine had even been poured, however, there was great competition to see which particular snowflake of the mostly arch-Brexiter group could arrive in the most embarrassing manner.
Duncan Smith rolled up dressed as a two-thirds-life crisis. Driving a classic Morgan sports car with the top down he wore a baseball cap; what appeared to be a sheepskin gilet on top of a jumper; and some tortoiseshell shades. Everything about this look screamed on the way to tee-off at a Trump links golf course, and yes I will sign the petition to not admit women.
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