To take is to share

As if butter wouldn’t melt in Rwanda, the two most interminable termites of the year sat across from Laura Kuenssberg on Sunday, subtly subdued in the wake of the horror of their crimes, yet still in a magical state of abject denial. 

Even when Mone finally admitted lying for three years (to Parliament, to the Lords, to the British public and) to the media, that she ‘was not connected to PPE Medpro in any capacity’, still she mumbled her innocence, saying ‘I wasn’t trying to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes’. No, deary, it was always mouths you wanted covered up, only mouths. You were trying to pull the masks over everyone’s mouths. 

Maybe it’s in the blood but these two termites saw an angle to exploit and they bit hard as a pinscher on a rabbit’s hindquarters. The little work they did for their £67 million haul was negligible. That was done by the sweat and toil of exploited workers in far off factories, but let’s not mention them. Too close to Christmas.

Fact is, Mone and Barrowman - as funeral director and gravedigger - unearthed and extracted a glittering nugget the size of a chimney stack, and from the public purse too. Remember Greensill, when Dave, your very foreign minister, took a paltry £7 million for a dead duck, head down and arse up in the Thames. Ah, but it’s only other people’s money. That’s why they’re called brokers, they break banks with the governor’s keys and people with the government’s fists. Besides, to take is to share. 

Could you hear the violins, though, there behind  lovely Laura? Yes, yes, you see they’d been sucked into it like little lambs and now, with the unenviable task of admitting their part in the £203 million heist of taxpayers’ money underway, if only to get it over with, they did their awful best to cast the whole affair off as an honest and misguided mistake. But we know who they are – they’re the Scum of Britain, the executors of our ills. Oh well. A quick skip to Heathrow and onto Mauritius till spring wouldn’t hurt. All they need is a phone for the latest deals, and I’m not talking Currys, although a favour goes a long way in wrung hands. That these two shysters even walked away from that interview room is sick-making enough, back into the limo and orf for the roast at home, but that’s British power for you; too clever by half. She’s got an OBE so they won’t be touching her. Look at Savile. If he was still alive, they’d have him on I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here in a flash. Anything to keep the waves alive.

Like Mone, Barrowman showed little remorse and tried his hand hopelessly to swizzle the minds of those watching. ‘We made a good return for the risk involved, and the risk was considerable.’ Really? The only ‘risk’ they took was being found out for the counts, or barons,they are. Try being late for payment on a self-assessment tax bill as a bricklayer, that’s real risk. But we all know there’s one rule for the millions of minions and another for the few dirty dozen. Look at Bad Boy Bernie, the scrawny lizard of F1 fame, who only escaped a prison term for hiding £400 million in an offshore account when his lawyer told him to plead guilty. Case dismissed, with a little tickle no doubt.

The truth is, there was no financial risk whatever for these two interminable termites, other than for the allegations they now face. Being a member of the House of Lords, it was probably Mone that engineered the call from PPE Medpro. All she had to do was throw the phone at Barrowman and tell him to transfer the flipping funds to pay their whack on the deal. Once he’d stopped rubbing his forehead and settled his quivering bottom lip,it was in the bag. What, ten minutes work, including the rubbing? There would be no need for interest to be paid back on their return once the deal was instantly secured. All Mone the Moaner had to do then was scream down the phone to some servile lip-wobbler at the home office and demand a cheque and hey Prizzi, the circus was put to the road, whips in hand. As easy as swiping a phone from a drunk on a pavement.

Like all inner party scamdals, each grotty thief had to be handpicked by the City men best placed with top level ministers, each candidate chosen for their insatiable appetite for dirty cash. And their reputation, of course, which will see that they get away scot free (she is ‘Scottish’, after all, and a lifelong member of the Tory party). And he’s just a scapegoat, poor poodle. Yes, that can never be disputed. Guilty as discharged.

The allegations of conspiracy to defraud, fraud by false representation and bribery will eventually fizzle out oncethe lawyers and consultants and judges and politicians have had their drinks and farted their cold luncheonmeats into the cushioned leather of dusky drawing rooms while media mules double down, with two pillows, on the breathless moral resolve of the public. When a termite of this nature, in charge of such an awesome colony, drives a nail into a plank, it stays stuck.

And so what if the surgical gowns that PPE Medpro provided weren’t fit for purpose? What do you expect when they were made on the chirpy chirpy cheap cheap? Anyway, the money’s gone now so there’s no point trying to get it back. But while our illustrious government readies its attack on those (it employed to work the scam) in the City, the lawyers and consultants and judges and politicians will only suck more shit out of the hoped for compensation figure – a trifling £122 million, half of that already paid for the Rwanda backhander. Now there’s a dead duck for you. 

But if Mone and Barrowman can do this so effortlessly to Britons, and with the precious public purse they guard so jealously, just think about the eye-watering sums being pushed under their noses as they stick their faces into that roast. Lucrative arms deals, little tickles with good old defence, then there’s those immigrants to squeeze on the good ship Bibby. What with everything going on in the world, financing and backing the killing of Gazan babies and children will be a walk in the grounds of whichever second home they choose to enjoy. Cancel the papers for a wee while, so annoying to see all that blood on the page. Or just go with the FT. All the blood’s in black and white on that rag.

Mone and Barrowman will get away with it in the end. We all know that. She implied the whispers of the gods on air with Laura when she said that they did nothing wrong except lie to the press.

‘That is not a crime,’ Mone said.

If only Laura had had the guts to ask, ‘not even to humanity?’ In their inherently evil minds, this dodgy duo may not have been able to stifle a titter, or even a full on guffaw, which would have meant the end for them. But no, it’s only the Beeb. Treat them carefully. Must keep up appearances. 

Me? I’d like to see them jailed for at least five years, with hard labour. Or, better still, have them defect to the Labour party and force them to wear the red rosette wherever they canvas. But what good’s that when they’re all the same? 

No, stick the Tory scum in a hospital for the criminally inane.