‘Got the bugger!’
Dalton Frisby, editor of the Daily Maul, was almost beside himself.
‘Corbyn squats on the floor like a gerbil,’ he crooned to the editorial meeting, ‘when there are free seats everywhere and he refuses the offer of an upgrade. Let’s go for First Class Hypocrite.’
‘According to some witnesses,’ murmured Harry Scutt, his unwisely brave news editor, ‘those seat were reserved, with bags and coats on them.’
Frisby turned the colour of the Virgin Trains logo.
‘So who would you choose to believe,’ he demanded, ‘a successful, go-getting, Britain-first entrepreneur like Richard Branson or a feeble, Trot-friendly, traitorous vegetarian like Jeremy Corbyn?’
‘That’s one way of putting it, Dalton.’
‘That’s the Maul way, Harry, as you ought to know.’
He turned to his art director.
‘No chance, Fergie, of a pic showing St Jeremy seeming to touch up a tasty Virgin staff member? Corbyn Lowers His Guard would be good.’
‘Fraid not, Dalt, but we’ve an old one from the archive showing him standing next to a First Class carriage.’
‘Brilliant!’ Frisby rejoiced. ‘Here’s the champion of the working man as champagne socialist. We’ll run it.’
‘And the headline?’ Scutt enquired.
‘First Class Hypocrite, of course.’
To experience more of this abysmal Daily Maul culture, turn to the pages of Lady Thatcher’s Wink