Boris Johnson, not the sharpest tool in the box, is suspected to have had a bust-up with his partner. Unconfined rumours suggest that Boris was heard to mutter, well she could have been hiding a weapon.
It has taken Boris some time to make his Mark in this Field. He was always a lover, not a fighter.
Baseless allegations have been flying back and forth. Some say Carrie Symonds’ sister emerged from Boris’ back door with a black eye. Others allege that a pig’s head was smuggled out under the cover of darkness. One possible explanation is that Boris’ bed broke after a bigly bonk.
Nobody knows whether Symonds was removed bodily from the scene by the neck. Feminism must have taken massive steps now that Tory MPs feel threatened by women. It’s never been the same since Thatcher.
“I did not have an altercation with that woman!” burbled Boris, the morning after. “There’s no truth in the rumours. It was self-defence, pure and simple. She started talking about the environment, and, well, it was instinctive. Everyone knows environmentalists are armed to the teeth!”
She would hardly come into the bedroom, scantily dressed, to kill.
“Dressed to kill? No, no, no, no, no, yes,” agreed Boris. “Who knows what she could have concealed in that basque! And stilettos are lethal, and I should know!”
You would never have done that to a man.
“A man in my bedroom?” mused Boris. “There’s only one weapon a man needs in the bedroom, and it’s not lethal! It takes me right back to the dorms at Eton, we had some fun back then, I can tell you. Good times!”
None of this dispels the suspicion that Johnson and his chums regard women as second-class citizens. Nor that this makes them first-class weapons grade cavemen. Even if they didn’t vote Remain.