He has risen! He had risen indeed. And gone straight home to bed.
Boris Johnson’s miraculous, not to say stage managed, resurrection on Easter Sunday is going well. It has generated a huge amount of sycophantic sympathy, which means he won’t be asked to take the rap for anything this week.
Adding to the miracle, he was able to make a five minute speech without pausing for breath. Pretty good for a man recovering from a lethal lung infection.
Instead he will be “working from home”. Working from home is one of those rare phrases where you can actually hear the quotation marks. Johnson is setting an example to the rest of the country by failing to do any sort of useful work from his comfy sofa at Chequers.
No change there, then.
In order to make his intentions crystal clear, Johnson has ordered a large quantity of wine. This has two benefits. Firstly, it means he has plenty of wine boxes to paint. It’s something to do. Secondly, if he ever needs to make a public appearance, he can pass off his hangover as a recurrence of covid-19.
Meanwhile all the useful people in the country are doing the essential work of contracting covid-19, so the rest of us don’t have to. All the nurses, doctors, supermarket staff, delivery drivers, and so on will be martyrs to the Herd Immunity “strategy”.
Who will be left? Apart from Boris Johnson, all the other people whose jobs, it turns out, were not that essential after all. The Earth will become a global B-Ark, populated by all the useless people. It bodes well for the future.
So while Boris Johnson stays safely locked away at Chequers, drinking and painting wine boxes, somebody needs to come up with an answer to this crisis, and quickly.
It will probably be 42. Or, if Priti Patel is involved, 4 hundredty thousand and two-ty squillion.