Rishi Sunak hadn’t felt this loved up since his early days with Akshata. He’d only gone to the Brothers of Italy convention in Rome out of curiosity and to return a favour. Giorgia Meloni had been the only world leader to make the effort to turn up to his spectacularly pointless AI summit in Bletchley. The one where he had come to the stunning conclusion that AI could be both good and bad. You can’t buy that level of insight. Thankfully. What he hadn’t expected was an instant attraction. The connection that comes between soulmates. For the first time in ages, Rish! felt truly seen. Truly heard. He felt complete. Someone with whom he could share his innermost fascisty thoughts without fear of being judged. Who would listen to his dreams of sending refugees to Rwanda and make them her own. By the end of the weekend they had had no need of a verbal language. Their minds and bodies were as one. But now he had to get back to work. To try to regain his focus. To stop compulsively checking his WhatsApps to see if G had messaged him. It was no good. He couldn’t sit still. He had to get out and about. Maybe another unnecessary flight would do it. Rish! loved the thrill of the private jet. Perhaps he could give the troops in Germany a thrill by going to Scotland instead. He wasn’t sure how they would cope without his Christmas thanks. Just one problem. He would have to do a pooled broadcast clip. It would be all he could do not to shout how in love he was. Luckily the only thing on the media’s mind was the interview that Michelle Mone had given to the BBC the day before. The one that had had all the hallmarks of being set up by Prince Andrew’s PR adviser. “Look, guys and women people,” he said. Dammit. Why had G still not texted? He willed his phone to make that tell-tale ping. “It’s Christmas time. I just want everyone to have a nice time. So can we keep this light? Now, first please can we have a moment’s silence for Michelle and Doug at this extremely difficult time for them. They have both said how terribly sorry they are for being caught and I think we should respect that. “Everything is now crystal clear. When Magic Mich had threatened journalists with legal action if they tried to connect her with her and Dougie’s own bullshit Medpro company, what she had really meant was she would be furious if people thought she wasn’t the type of person to try to profit from VIP access to a Tory government during a national crisis. “Deep down, she was just an every day shyster looking to make more in a week than most people would make in 10 life times. And please, please don’t bring hers or Dougie’s kids into it. Because they were only beneficiaries of the trust. They were completely accidental millionaires. That’s the sort of thing that could literally happen to anyone. There. Has that cleared everything up?” Several puzzled faces looked back at Sunak. Um … Actually, no. He had provided more questions than answers. Could they try again? How about Rish! started from the beginning? Michelle was now saying that Michael Gove and the government knew all about her and her fantasy Medpro company from the very beginning. She had made no attempt to hide her involvement. So she had been rather bewildered that Mikey had repeatedly denied all knowledge of anything. Sunak became somewhat nervy. Almost as if he had something to hide. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t possibly comment while there’s an ongoing investigation by the National Crime Agency. And I’m sure everything is just fine even though for reasons that escape me and Mikey, the government is trying to get £122m back from the Monester for supplying unusable PPE. “So let’s get this straight once and for all. When the government opened the PPE VIP route, we fully expected the country to be ripped off by those looking to make excess profits. After all, the sort of people we were hoping to attract were Tory donors and peers created by Lord Cameron. “We had to be realistic. None of these undesirables were ever going to get out of bed during a national health emergency unless they were making tens of millions. These people had a living not to earn. And I can categorically state that at no point did Mikey or I ever write into the contract that the PPE had to work. What would have been the point of that? That would have assumed the government hadn’t been a clusterfuck of incompetent clowns.” By now, Sunak was beginning to look flustered. The journalist had two last questions. How come the government hadn’t even got round to suspending Mone from the Tory party? And had the prime minister been totally relaxed about trying to prevent waste when he was chancellor? This was too much for Rish! His cheeks began to wobble. It was outrageous to expect the Tories to withdraw the whip from someone who was living Conservative values. And no one had worked harder to make sure the government got value for money during the pandemic. He lived and breathed diligence. Hell, he had been the man who had reportedly written off £4.3bn in Covid loans fraud. So it was like it had never happened. Eliminating waste wherever he saw it. He had even got Esther McVey to launch a war on government waste in the Daily Mail. Whoever had been in government for 13 years. It was time to stop worrying about the little things; like billions of pounds going astray. Now we needed to focus on people scrounging money for woke benefits. On the flight back home, Rish! kicked off his Prada loafers. Just a couple of days to recess. Nearly there. He was a winner. Prime minister throughout 2023. He looked at his phone. A WhatsApp! It was G! “Thinking of you as I deport a Tunisian xxx”. He loved it when she talked dirty. • Depraved New World by John Crace (Guardian Faber, £16.99). 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