As our government is a shambles, the Opposition a Stalinist theme park and the Lib Dems as relevant as flairs and vaginal deodorant, I thought I would pen a few words about an outrage that has shocked the nation to its core; the House of Commons has banned dick. And of the spotted variety.

I thought at first that this was an NHS campaign to improve the sexual health of our tribunes. But no. ‘See it, say it, sorted’ is quite different. But Dick will be allowed in the chamber, in the committee rooms and perhaps in Madame’s private room behind the Speaker’s chair. If you ask nicely. But not in the restaurants. Spotted Dick, the fare of Merry Engerlund, the staple diet of the tribe who worship Gammon has been humiliated. As Nigel Farage might have said, ‘without Dicks what would happen to UKIP?’

I suspect that this is nothing more than a Remainer plot. Those traitors, mutineers, saboteurs and grumbling malcontents, Clarke, Soubrey, Grieve and their treacherous running dogs who spit in the eyes of democracy have been spotted in a Commons dining room; eating. The bastards. This is clear evidence of a conspiracy to destroy one of our greatest British dishes and hand it over to Brussels. They even did a deal with May. That in return for their support for the Maidenhead by pass, this great culinary masterpiece would be called Spotted Ricard. But behind their backs this sneaky woman was hijacked by Mogg who demanded that the dish be renamed in honour of the head of his youth movement, Richard, who is laid up in the Priory with a bad case of acne. There will be trouble before lunch time next week.

This has split the Conservative party. Knight of the Shires, Sir Bedlam Broadmoor, is outraged. ‘Not enough of our new backbenchers went to a decent public school. They would have had Dick drummed into them morning noon and night. This is what the country needs.’ But on the progressive wing, Gary Wet-Blanket, chair of the No Turning Your Back Group, commented that the gender of puddings should no longer be binary. ‘We could go straight down the middle here and could compromise for Spotted Rich’. Sadly at the mention of the word Rich, Diane Abbott was taken into a place of safety. Sir Vince Cable, who was guest speaker at a Father Ted fund raising evening, commented, ‘Feck, drink, tits, bum’. His rating in the polls sky rocketted to minus 45.

Banning the name Spotted Dick, is of course quite bonkers. Take a trawl through the internet and see what Johnny Foreigner calls the stuff that is put on his table.

There is a drink which I will give a miss, called Pee Cola. A Macvitie’s biscuit called Finger Marie and French chocolate delightfully named Crap. And then there is a can of pop that should be in Boris Johnson’s cocktail cabinet. It’s an energy drink called Pussy. And it’s manufacturer? Why Erektus, of course. You would probably need a savoury to go with it. Tangy Tit Bits would be the perfect accompaniment.
And don’t let’s forget that Australian Ice Cream, Golden Gaytime, with its marketing slogan, ‘it’s hard to have a gaytime on your own.’ I’m told that it goes down rather well.

If you like pork flavoured rice porridge why not try Pork Me? Which could be served with Cemen Dip. There is a soup mix called Cock and drinks called Fart and Only Puke. But there is a raspberry jam that I will give a miss. It’s called Tastes Like Grandma. Oh, dear.