We were very tolerant towards your lesser self in the early stages of our taking over the top job at the centre of the Empire at No 10 Downing Street, London ENGLAND. We think we may even have done you the honour of visiting you in your bedsit at Bute Cottage in Aberburgh, although, of course, we do not recall.
However, following our tremendous and spectacular General Election victory, and now that we have grown in stature in our position as triumphant leader of OUR United Kingdom and become close to world statesmen such as Mr Netenyahu and Mr Erdogan, not to mention HRH Excellency Trump and His Majesty King Salman, we feel that further discussion with a junior minister of a mere district would be inappropriate. Besides which, as I am now busily (and successfully) engaged in a red, white and blue Brexit, which means Brexit (including for your district) so that Britain can take back control of everything from the foreigners who are out to get us British people, I’m simply too busy to be bothered with inferiors.
It has been decided, therefore, that if you have anything that you wish to discuss with your superiors here at Empire Central, in our great capital city of London, you should address those matters with the Rt Hon David Mud… Mund… well, you know who I mean, and of course, if you can find her (she seems to have gone walkabout since Ms Arlene and I struck up a friendship) the Rt Hon and Gallant Lady, Colonel Davidson. Alternatively, you may try to approach the Noble Lord Duncan in his Baronial Castle, although I understand that he doesn’t much like commoners. A curtsey is appropriate.
You will not, any longer, be allowed to address yourself directly to us personally, and we intend to instruct the queen that she is no longer to grant you an audience, but must hold herself always in readiness for any occasion on which we wish to have a photo-opportunity with her, or get her to open our parliament.
Do not let any of that make you feel any less important than you already are.
Rule Britannia. God save the Queen and Theresa May
Her Britannic Empr , sorry, Prime Ministerialness
Signed per pro
in her absence.
(Note to Cabinet Secretary: Send same sort of thing to that Welsh blokey, and the people in IOM, Channel Islands, and Gibraltar, Falklands and the rest of my empire. DO NOT ON ANY ACCOUNT SEND TO BELFAST on pain of death.)