FOOD FOR THOUGHT : LCD Views has been tipped off today that one of the Tory MPs competing to be the next Tory leader, and so potentially PM, is rumoured to have had a scan to see what shape his brain is, or isn’t, in. We’ve been handed a short video of it and we release the transcript of the video below…
We don’t vouch for its veracity. We may in fact have just made this up horrified by the things the man has said…
INT. MEDICAL LABORATORY NIGHT
A fluorescent lights buzzes. Flickering. A bald, beefy man stands with his back to us. He faces a full length mirror. He’s dressed only in a medical gown. The shadows just about conceal his butt crack.
He is grunting. He is flexing his arms, bunching out his muscles. Over and over.
He is called DOM.
On the other side of the room a MEDICAL SCANNER waits. Lights flashing. MRI type machine. Something you can scan a brain with.
“You’ve got this Dom. You’re the spear of destiny.”
DOM steps forward and presses himself to the mirror. Arms spread.
“I love you. You can do anything. You are a man of war. But not a Portuguese one because that would be foreign. BRITAIN DOESN’T DO FOREIGN ANYMORE.”
A MEDICAL TECHNICIAN enters the room via a side door. Clipboard in one hand. Massive syringe in the other.
CLOSE ON THE MEDICAL TECHNICIAN AND SEE OVER THEIR SHOULDER AS THEY ENTER.
SEE INTO THE OTHER ROOM – A giant. A monster. Bolts in its neck. It stands drooling just the other side of the door. Stitches on its forehead spell ‘BREXIT’.
BREXIT looks at the camera.
“I want to sleep now. Why can’t I sleep now?”
The MEDICAL TECHNICIAN closes the door behind them.
“Dom? I may call you Dom? Please don’t lick the mirror.”
“I’m not licking it. I’m kissing it. But there’s no tongues. It’s not a FRENCH KISS. Britain doesn’t do FOREIGN anymore. BRITAIN WON’T BE HUMILIATED ANYMORE BY BRUSSELS.”
The MEDICAL TECHNICIAN crosses to the scanner.
“Dom, please come and lie down. We need to scan your brain to see why you’ve been having all these thoughtflow problems.”
DOM turns and begins flexing his muscles.
“Why the big needle? I don’t need the needle. I am good Dom.”
The MEDICAL TECHNICIAN sets the syringe down.
“Please Dom. Afterwards you can pray in the room with the picture of Thatcher. Would you like that Dom?”
DOM begins to rock. He slowly starts to beat his fists against his chest. He makes a great gorilla. Confused, not angry.
“The typical user of a food bank is not someone who’s languishing in poverty.”
“Yes Dom. That’s why we’re here today. Come to the table Dom. We want to help you.”
“I hadn’t quite understood how reliant on trade in goods the UK is on the Dover-Calais crossing.”
DOM is now bent over, like a primate, he walks on all fours with his knuckles against the floor.
“I can help you Dom.”
The MEDICAL TECHNICIAN slowly approaches DOM. Reaches out a hand. Dom stands up, still hunched some, and takes the offered hand. They walk to the scanning machine.
“From the cradle to the grave, men are getting a raw deal. Feminists are now amongst the most obnoxious bigots.”
“It’s difficult, isn’t it Dom? Difficult when you have thoughtflow issues?”
“I want to be prime minister.”
DOM lays down on the machine. The MEDICAL TECHNICIAN calmly straps him down.
“See, you didn’t need the happy medicine. I am Dom.”
“Very good Dom. It’s much better than when we scanned Esther McVey or Andrea Leadsom or Jeremy Hunt. Michael Gove actually got away and we can’t find him. We think he’s in the plumbing.”
The MEDICAL TECHNICIAN presses a button and the table and DOM slide into the machine.
A SCREEN lights up on the machine’s console.
“Let’s have a look at your brain then.”
DOM (overshot of console screen)
“It’s a big brain. Dom has a big, big brain.”
The console screen fills with a SINGLE GREEN PEA. It spins. A UNICORN walks over and eats it.
“You like Dom’s brain?”
“Yes Dom. I can see all of it.”
“You help me with thoughtflow problem?”
“There’s no helping you I’m afraid Dom.”
“Because I am Dom?”
“Yes Dom. I hadn’t quite understood until this scan how reliant your thoughtflow problems were on unicorns, Dom.”
On the console screen the UNICORN does a rainbow coloured shit. It plants a UNION JACK FLAG in it.
The UNICORN fills the screen.
“I am Dom.”
The buzzing sound of the fluorescent light grows loud again.
“Dom means Dom.”
The transcript ends here, but the Conservative Party leadership contest plays on and one of the favourites is Dom…