Johnson means Johnson! The Procreating Premier has made preparations for the next time his government is obliged to announce bad news. The newly installed harem of busty blonde concubines will take it in turns to be impregnated by Bonking Boris.
This naturally means that the shambling shagger will be very busy indeed. Boris the man isn’t known for his hard graft, but Boris’s Johnson will be working double time.
In short, the lecherous leader has put himself out to stud. Expect a population explosion of bumbling blonde babies, who will expect to rise effortlessly through the strata of society. Cream rises, they say. Unfortunately, so do big shits.
There is a scale, of course. A prominent cabinet member bullying a respected senior official into constructive dismissal, one baby. Being forced to follow EU regulations after discovering that nobody wants to trade our substandard goods, two babies. Releasing the Russia Report will have to wait until one of the pneumatic brood fillies conceives triplets.
Some would have argued that the right man for the job was Jacob Rees-Mogg. However, the Georgian gravedigger sticks firmly to his Catholic morals, in bedroom matters at least. Although it is about time Mrs Rees-Mogg did her wifely duty and got up the duff again.
Instead the priapic Prime Minister has taken matters into his own hands. Well, maybe not literally into his own hands. In these desperate times every drop of Essence Of Johnson is a precious resource, and is not to be spaffed up the wall. Waste not, want not.
The recipients will allegedly be remunerated on a pay-per-poke basis. They will be employed on zero hours contracts, although more realistically they will actually be thirty second contracts.
It will require a supreme act of stamina from the aging Johnson, who is going to seed, just as he has done for his entire adult life.
And what do you imagine will he say to Carrie? Not tonight, dear, I’ve got a headache.