A Message From The Mayor

Today, being Saturday, I thought I’d have a bit of fun with the current press coverage over Andrew Mitchell and his exchange with a police officer at the gates of Downing Street. Needless to say, the following piece wasn’t really written by Boris Johnson.


Crumbs. The effluent is well and truly ricocheting off the humidifier at Downing Street, and my old chum, Dave Cameron, is up to his neck in the hottub.

Apparently, one of his minions – thrasher Mitchell – has managed to offend every policeman and woman on the planet by being very rude to PC’s Pleb and Oik – the horny-handed sons of the soil who guard the gates of Downing Street – after they told him off for riding his skateboard along the pavement outside number 10.

Now, in my humble opinion, this is just the sort of thing that is bound to happen when we entrust the running of the country to a bunch of old Etonian toffs who have little experience of the real world.

What we need in the current climate is a leader who is blessed with the common touch. A man of the people who possesses the ability to inject the panacea of humour into the everyday lives of the hoi polloi, and who understands that all men, and one or two women, are created equal. You would, for example, never find me treating anyone in such an appalling, offhand and dismissive fashion as that in which Mr Mitchell treated PC’s Pleb and Oik. Good manners cost nothing. Which, given Mr Osborne’s current austerity measures, is just as well.

Indeed, PC Plato and PC Homer – the chaps who used to guard the approaches to the Arcadia that is City Hall – were always treated with the utmost deference. Until, that is, I had to sack the entire Metropolitan Police Force in order to make the necessary cuts to pay for my latest brilliant initiative Bozzers Buses – which ended up costing a great deal more than the £27 trillion each we were originally quoted.

Still, as PC Plato always used to say, a good decision is based on knowledge and not on numbers, and I’m pleased to announce that we have managed to outsource the policing of the entire Metropolis to those nice chaps at G4S for an incredibly low management fee of just £775 million a week. They’ve already put one school leaver out on the beat, and they’re well on the way to reaching our agreed target of having recruited a second by 2026.

It goes without saying that we’d soon see an end to our current financial malady if, naming no names, Mr Osborne were to follow my example.

The problem, as I see it, is that the country is being governed by an aloof elite who favour fat-cat bankers, big businesses and major retailers over the small one man enterprises that are the backbone of our economy. I want to see this change and, to that end, I am calling for a return to the High Street. I want to see people putting their money into the pockets of ordinary, everyday shopkeepers – mater and pater businesses as I believe our American cousins call them.

And, as always, you can count on me to lead by example. Only the other week I popped in to our local corner shop in Knightsbridge, run by that very nice Middle Eastern gentleman Mr Sultanofqatar, who is the very personification of our hard working immigrant community. 

I was paying for my pint of milk (£295.27 Dave, next time you’re asked) when my mobile phone went off. It was Mr Branson calling from the Necker Island Camping and Caravan Park down in Essex. Apparently, no sooner had he set off on his summer holiday this year than some absolute rotter only went off with his train set, leaving him, needless to say, very upset and rather angry.

I did my level best to cheer him up by pointing out that he’ll soon have no need for a train set as he’ll shortly be eligible for a free bus pass and will, therefore, be entitled to travel all over Islington aboard a Bozzer Bus. At which point, using language that would put Mr Mitchell to shame, he said something about parking my Bozzers Bikes somewhere anatomically impossible, and hung up on me.

Anyway, must dash as I’ve got a country – sorry city – to run. Till next time, pip pip.

Legal disclaimer. The preceding article is intended as satire and was not written by, nor does it reflect the opinions of, London Mayor Boris Johnson. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to persons alive, dead or in politics is coincidence and therefore unintentional.