Prime minister unleashes her robotic soundbites on factory workers at a Screwfix centre in Stoke.
Daytime. Stoke-on-Trent. We open on a shot of Theresa May, encircled by seemingly endless crowds of workers in hi-vis jackets. Pan out and you’d see an otherwise empty warehouse slightly larger than Liechtenstein – but luckily, no one ever pans out.
And so to Screwfix’s Trentham distribution centre, the latest blacksite where May’s election is being held. Each day the prime minister is rendered to a sealed regional facility, where she tortures a captive audience with looped repetitions of the phrase “strong and stable”. After a sustained period of it, people are unsure whether to applaud or confess to a Pakistani embassy bombing they had nothing to with just to make it stop.
To adapt Dorothy Parker, the PM ran the full gamut of emotion from strong to stable. Her primary means of showing solidarity with workers is to deliver answers so robotic that they suggest even her own job has already been automated. What was she going to do about rising food prices, someone wanted to know? “We need to make sure we get that Brexit deal right.”
What about Labour’s manifesto policies polling well? “Ordinary working families will suffer from a coalition of chaos.” What does she think about reports that Donald Trump disclosed highly sensitive intelligence to the Russians? “It is not up to me what President Trump says to anybody that he is meeting and talking to.”
Life insurers now insist that you declare if you have been exposed to a Theresa May response, with failure to disclose the fact liable to render your policy void. Outside the Screwfix gates, even the Mirror chicken looked like it wanted to turn itself in to the nearest Nando’s.