Ruddy-faced abyss too drunk on its own sense of entitlement to gaze into thee, David Cameron, now believes he’s a shepherd having spent £50,000 on two shepherd’s huts in which to sit and write his memoirs, the least desired book in Britain since Katie Hopkins’ guide to aquatic fun, esoteric Islam and refugees Surfy, Sufi, Swarmy.
“He’s gone right off on one,” said local farmer, Phil Evans. “I was checking on my flock when suddenly Cameron comes striding up with a crook and starts promising a better life for all hard-working sheep if they pull their socks up and play the game fairly.”
“I last saw him up the top field telling the ewes that they could have a vote on whether or not to stay in the flock and whatever they decided he’d stick with them and work hard to make their decision a success.”
“Weird him being all about sheep.” mused Mr Evans. “With his past you’d think it’d be pigs.”