Boris’S New Office


To complement the ransom note's brand spanking new site (designed and built by some degenerates in Shoreditch), they have decided to let a bird of prey into the fold….finally! Too long has our lofty perspective been ignored by the world of electronic music, and the prevalence given to cats in this publication is, frankly, bordering on a feline conspiracy. They have a cat button ffs.

I soar high above the UK at my leisure, hunting, exploring the land, spanning hundreds if not thousands of miles a year…… Cats strole around a half mile radius acting like arrogant cunts, living off the generosity of humans… shameful. 

Last week, I headed down to the ransom note office in the wildly overrated city of London, where I was discussing this article with some very sexy human editors. They suggested I stop off in the area of Westminster to see what I could see and as it is a well known hunting spot for catching rodents… rats mainly, I thought….two birds, one stone! (obviously as a bird, I find that phrase offensive and an incitement to violence against my species). 

Hovering around, I saw a curious amount of activity near the Foreign & Commonwealth Office. I tracked 4-5 rats, all of which failed to present me with an opportunity to rip them apart for my lunch. They did however all seem to be giving me the drop around the same spot so I swooped down for a closer look. 

It turned out they had all ducked into the office of Boris Johnson and they were not alone. Hundreds of their brethren occupied the office. Imagine Indiana Jones and and The Last Crusade but in a government minister's office. Rats on the floor, rats on the desk, rats nibbling away at a tiny but long trough of food. 

At the centre of this image was Johnson himself, sat at his desk, covered in rats, affectionately nesting a group of baby rats in his lap, gently tickling their bellies and speaking to them in baby talk. “Who’s enjoying the new office? You? Yes you are. Yes you are…”

The door to his office burst open and he secretary entered, wheeling in a stack of boxes. Far from the panicked chaos I expected from Boris and his companions…. not an eyelid was batted!

“These are briefings for each of the countries you will be meeting with over the next few months minister, I have marked them down as received in the diary.”

Boris nodded to a paper shredder in the corner of the room and continued to play with the baby rats. The secretary proceeded to shred the documents, occasionally emptying the shreddings into the corner of the room, where the rats had started fashioning them into a sleeping area. I wondered what would happen when foreign delegates start visiting Boris. Perhaps they meet in a different room.

I started daydreaming about the window accidentally being left open and me and my family coming here one night for a BIG dinner! Not a very skillful hunt I know, but sometimes a bird just wants an effortless rat platter if you know what I mean. 

Another woman entered the room bearing a long, dark blue gift box with a royal red bow.

“A gift from the the PM minister, to congratulate you on your new appointment.” 

She looked around the room for somewhere to put the gift down without it being carried away on a sea of rats. Boris gestured to the rats to make space on the desk and they obediently parted like the Red Sea, leaving enough space for the gift to be place in front of him. 

“Thank you, could you pass on a message to Theresa for me, I have been having real trouble getting her to respo…..”. The woman had already started walking towards the door.

He tried again, with more urgency this time, “You have to tell her, I don’t think I want this jo….”. She closed the door behind her, Boris gave up and turned his attention to the box. 

The rats had stopped milling around and were watching in anticipation as he cautiously pulled open the bow and lifted the lid from the box. The four walls collapsed outward, revealing toy model replica of the Vote Leave Campaign Bus, complete with the "£350m to the NHS" slogan. It sat on a dark brown, varnished plaque with a gold engraving plate on the front. It had a message on it although alas, from my position I could not read it. 

After inspecting the model bus for a short while, he grabbed it with both hands and hurled it across the room, killing and injuring several dozen rats. Then he picked up one of the baby rats from his lap, and started to gently apply pressure to its neck with his thumb. The baby rat struggled and protested but Boris only tightened his hold, his face soaked in fury. The rage in his eyes turned to sadness and he released his grip. The terrified baby rat squeaked uncontrollably, Boris tried to console it but the damage had already been done. 

The other rats didn’t seem to mind though as they had already started eating the casualties of the flying brexit bus while Boris softly wept and cuddled a terrified baby rat. 

Almost made me feel sorry for the rats, then I remembered what the fuck I was doing there…. Killed and ate a rat from the roof of No.10, then flew the fuck home. Till next time, peace. 


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