Theresa May is a phenomenon. More than that, she’s a fucking legend. The first top-ranking Conservative without a Y-chromosome since Margaret Thatcher,
Theresa has thrown away the rulebook to become a 21st century woman not just tolerated, but actively endorsed by her party hierarchy.
This 57-year old former Party Chairwoman, ex-Shadow Secretary for Work and Pensions and Minister for Wimmin and Equalities has made it her business to get shit done, gaining a
reputation as the most effective Conservative Home Secretary since before any of us were born. Following a barnstorming speech at this Autumn’s Tory Party Conference, May has now
emerged as the frontrunner to lead the Conservatives when Prime Minister David Cameron commits ritual hari-kiri, after next year’s General Election.
Home Defence caught up with this rising star, recently described by a drooling Times journalist as having “the best legs in the cabinet”, in her constituency office near Maidenhead to
discuss image, ambition, her long-time aversion to the rights of humans and how many pairs of ‘kitten heels’ she really owns….
Home Defence: “Thank you for having us Mrs May.”
Theresa May: “Not at all young man, and please call me Trees-are. Or, if you are so inclined, mother.”
HDUK: “Ha ha.”
TM: “Ha ha ha!”
HDUK: “No, but really - Mrs May is fine.” [Pause] “I couldn’t help but notice the massive framed photo of Abu Qatada, sitting right above your desk. HDUK had no idea his beard
was so lush….”
TM: “Oh yes, I like to keep my friends close and my enemies closer. Particularly the vanquished ones - LOL!”
HDUK: “Of course. That case proved one of your greatest victories when, last year, you became the first politician to successfully deport Abu on charges of suspiciousness and general dislike. And this, after a decade of governments failing to get the man away from these shores. How on earth did you manage it?”
TM: “Focus. Hard work. A unified media message. All underpinned by a fathomless loathing for the individual in question. When reporters wonder why I’m against human rights,
I simply point to the picture up there and say: ‘Should that human have rights?’ It shuts them right up.”
HDUK: “And yet Qatada has since been found innocent of all charges following several trials in Jordan where…”
TM: “Let me interrupt you there young fellow. There’s a difference between being convicted of criminal offences and repeating unpleasant, anti-British sentiments. The latter is a
kind of evil nobody in their right mind wants to hear.”
HDUK: “And anyone who expresses such sentiments should be forcibly removed from the British Isles?”
TM: “Yes.”
HDUK: “I see.”
TM: “In an ideal world, yes of course. When that’s not possible I take away their passports. Out of spite.”
HDUK: “You’ve also been congratulated for taking on the police and winning….”
TM: “I reformed the guts out of those twats.”
HDUK: “…which is something no Conservative ever attempted before. Thatcher, in particular, went the other way, whacking their wages up and getting PC Plod onside to
eviscerate the mining industry.”
TM: “The time was right to take our nation’s coppers down a peg or several, what with their stupid advice to victims about solving crimes themselves, turning a blind eye on child abuse, endless sick days and, worst of all, those terrible ‘Plebgate’ lies.”
HDUK: “How did you steel yourself for that particular battle?”
TM: “I listened to a lot of hip-hop, specifically Negroes With Attitude. ‘Frick the Police’ they said, and ‘Frick The Police’ I did…”
HDUK: “Er….”
TM: “The filth were forced to listen to everything I said. They saw the truth of it and sloped off; their tails between their knees.”
HDUK: “These are the kind of ballsy achievements that impress backbenchers and have led to calls for you to stand as…”
At this point Mrs May put on a fake-robotic voice (which was more than a little unnerving) to interrupt.
TM: “We. Are. All. Completely. Behind. Our. Prime Minister. He. Will. Gain. An. Overall. Majority. At. The. Next. General. Election. Of. This. There. Is. No Doubt.”
HDUK: “Um, really?”
TM: “Yes. We. Are. All. Behind. David. Cameron. We. Believe. In Him. 100%.”
HDUK: “Are you taking the piss?”
Mrs May then leaned in to place a claw on my knee, asking if we might speak more candidly, ‘off the record’. I assured her we could but left my recording device on – an
old trick I learned from Andy Coulson.
TM (whispering): “Of course, we all know that ‘Diddy’ Dave, as your website calls him, will be out on his ear next May. Why do you think Boris is parachuting into Uxbridge?
It’s not out of any philanthropic interest for the area.”
HDUK: “What do you think of the Mayor’s chances in any leadership election?”
TM: “He’s a big beast, that’s for certain. Possibly some kind of sasquatch, I’m not a zoologer. But don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s my biggest rival.”
HDUK: “That would be the Chancellor?”
TM: “Now Gove has been put out to pasture for serial ineptitude, my old pal Georgie-O is the one to beat, agreed. To the Conservatives his record is immaculate – just last month Osborne promised to put another ten million working families below the poverty line. They lap that sort of thing up over there. Unfortunately, it’ll be another couple of years before Osborne’s work, ensuring the long-term destruction of our economy, bears juicy fruit.”
HDUK: “Surely your record is similarly unimpeachable?”
TM: “You’re too kind my little chickadee, but you forget that unfortunate passport farrago earlier this year…”
HDUK: “That was when thousands of hardworking peoples’ holidays were jeopardised because your staff at the passport office had a massive backlog…”
TM: “That’s the one. It was George who really screwed it up. He cut so many of my staff, the rest couldn’t cope. Then I got it in the neck.”
HDUK: “I think many were disgruntled to find you had been warned about the problem a year ago and didn’t do anything….”
TM: “Well, what could I do? It wasn’t like I employed the people directly. Do you want me to go into their offices and gee them up? Perhaps force my employees to work more quickly by threatening them with a riding crop?”
HDUK: “But some thought….”
TM: “Listen, I don’t make the cuts, I just suffer them, like everyone else. We could blame the Chancellor, but really it’s Labour’s fault. They did something wrong ten years ago,
something to do with the economy if memory serves, and now we all suffer, even me. That scandal set my ambitions back a distance, a significant distance.”
HDUK: “But you’ve bounced back. Only last month the hashtag #TM4PM was trending on Twitter.”
TM: “Oh, I hadn’t heard about that, but I like it. That’s catchy - ‘TM4PM’. Got quite the ring to it, don’t you think?”
HDUK: “Where do you believe this outpouring of love comes from?”
TM: “Fear. Respect. Lust, in a number of cases. But mostly I think they see me put the hours in, along with all the other hardworking hardworkers out there. For example, I spent all summer patrolling national boundaries on my days off, making sure I’d done the right thing in scrapping the UK border agency. And I can tell you now – I did. Our borders are secure, bloody secure.”
HDUK: “You’re saying no illegals have got through?”
TM: “Not on my watch.”
HDUK: “Let’s turn to lifestyle issues. The official profile lists Theresa May’s hobbies as ‘walking and cooking’. Could you expand a little for our readers?”
TM: “No.”
HDUK: “I’m sorry?”
TM: “I won’t ‘expand’ because it’s too dull. I can’t anyway – that’s simply not true. When I fill those things out I put the most boring things I can think of to keep my wholesome image
intact, and to throw journalists off the scent. Actually, I’m into all sorts of fascinating things; Brostep, the films of Udo Kier, recreational bondage, Sazeracs and dancing the tarantella, which is
something I do every Wednesday evening in Twyford.”
HDUK: “I must say, I’m surprised Mrs May. Those seem quite unconventional interests for an ex-convent girl like yourself.”
TM: “On the contrary, you splendid whippersnapper. The convent is where humanity’s worst perversions are shaped. Budding nuns uncover their physical proclivities early on….”
HDUK: “I think we ought to change the subject. Can you tell me more about your categorical disgust for Human Rights?”
TM: “I can clarify it for you, yes. I’ve nothing against ‘human rights’ as a concept; the kind of warm, fuzzy, essentially meaningless idea liberals and lefties bandy around when they
want to feel all ‘enlightened’ and ‘compassionate’. But here in the real world, things work differently.”
HDUK: “How so?”
TM: “Our present government suffers from a restrictive and ill-conceived piece of legislation entitled ‘The 1998 Human Rights Act’, forced on us by Labour and Europe of course.”
HDUK: “What does that do?”
TM: “Ties my hands, is what it does!” [Laughs mirthlessly] “I’m just trying to do my job, but every time I intervene to prevent some Algerian leaving one of our excellent detention facilities, or alter the legal status of a group of Middle Eastern men on a whim, or deport a bus-full of lesbians back to one of the more homophobic African countries, the judicial system intervenes to overturn my decision! What sort of democracy is that, where an almost-elected Home Secretary can't ban Khat or implement an ‘end of life plan’ for detainees who would rather be dead without having her every move questioned by Strasbourg? I despair, really I do.”
HDUK: “Might this indicate a wider distrust of human rights…?”
TM: “Oh, it does monkey boy, it certainly does. Luckily the rest of our cabinet have slowly come round to my way of thinking, now that the PM has got rid of the naysayers.
Essentially, I see ‘Universal Human Rights’ as a horribly flawed idea. What happens when individuals behave in a way that is less than ‘human’? Criminals for example; terrorism
suspects, drug users, demonstrators or ‘preachers of hate’. You can’t tell me such groups should be treated the same way as decent, upstanding citizens who own several properties
and upgrade their car every few years. I simply won’t agree.”
HDUK: “Thank you Mrs May, I think that’s an appropriate note to end on.”
TM: “Hang on, aren’t you going to ask about my outfit?”
HDUK: “Um, well, Home Defence doesn’t want to perpetuate the media tendency to define leading female public figures solely by their appearance….”
TM: “Tommyrot! I spent ages getting ready!”
HDUK: “...but I couldn’t help notice what can only be described as a delightful skirt-suit, offset by glittery turquoise sandals and a string of fake pearls, each pearl the size of a
baby chimpanzee’s fist…”
TM: “Thank you my dear. It’s not easy living up to the hype, not when you’re repeatedly labelled ‘Westminster’s Leading Style Icon’, but I try my best.”
HDUK: “I can see that.”
TM: “After all, if you want to be thought of as a legitimate Prime Minister-in-waiting, it is surely better to be smartly turned out than seen in an untucked shirt with gravy down the front.
Mentioning no names – Alexander de Pfeffel Boris Johnson.”
HDUK: “Aren’t some of the newspapers likening your look and ‘vibe’ to that of millionaire supermodel Cara Delevinge?”
TM: “They are, and in a way I’m flattered. I can appreciate the aesthetic similarities, but I would like to say for the record; we aren’t at all alike in terms of
intellectual prowess. I’m changing the political landscape of a country; Cara’s essentially a clothes horse with a pout.”
HDUK: “Of course. What else would you like me to ask? You’re pointing at your, er, feet? Is that what you mean? Shoes? Do you have a lot of shoes?”
TM: “I’m no Imelda Marcos baby, but even in the desk drawer here I have my famous Leopard Skin Ballerina pumps. These babies caused a run on stock at Debenhams when I wore them for
a photo op.”
HDUK: “Fancy.”
TM: “While back home I’ve got a pair of wellies from the same range, heels courtesy of La Petite Salope, Louboutins, some knee-high boots that have been described as ‘sassy’ in a
London Review of Books essay, my famous red kittens, snakeskin court shoes, jewel-encrusted flats for everyday wear, and that’s before you even start on….”
At this point we had to leave the Home Secretary by backing imperceptibly out of her office as she continued to list types of shoe, apparently in some kind of trance.
When May eventually comes out of it, you can be sure she’ll be back on the job, readying herself for leadership. Because the Conservative Party is essentially Theresa’s bitch now; a
feeble, horny creature in late middle-age, desperate for punishment and pining to be dominated by the best femme to make her way through the ranks since the Iron Lady herself!
Yes, whatever happens to May next May, you can be sure of this - she will prevail. And she’ll be dressed awfully nicely when it happens.
