Dear Keir: I don’t want to strap myself to a rocket and hand the launch controls to Trump

Hullo Britain. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, it’s been a trying few days. On Monday, I held a press conference about my response to the Iran war. I was clear about my intention to protect working people (you could tell, because I said “let me be very clear” about 20 times). I always make it clear when I’m being clear, lest anyone get the impression that I’m vague, evasive or confused. The more I say it, the clearer things become.

Another phrase I hammered home was “national interest”. Unlike such nutters as Kemi and Nige, I don’t want to strap myself to a rocket and hand the launch controls to Donald Trump. I’m keeping the UK well out of this mess. Except, of course, for letting US bombers stop off in Gloucester on their way to level Tehran. Think of it like this: the US is the school bully, kneeling on Iran’s chest. The UK is the bully’s little mate, passing him leaves to stuff in Iran’s mouth.

There’s no way the IRGC could hold that against us. Yep – zero potential for blowback. This being established, let’s turn to your questions.

Dear Keir, I love my husband, but our marriage has become bland and sexless. How can we spice things up?
Queenie, Bampton

Hi Queenie. As a sexual dynamo, I’ve never faced this problem. However, I’ve heard that role play can be used to reignite one’s passion. Perhaps your husband could pretend to be a bank manager who’s helping you get the most out of your Isa. Or you could be the local councillor he’s taking to task about potholes. Alternatively, you can imagine each other as famously attractive celebrities: Margot Robbie, Jacob Elordi, Adrian Chiles. If either of you wishes to portray a certain PM, you have my blessing.

Here’s hoping this tip rekindles your spark. Fantasy can be a powerful thing. For instance, I often fantasise about having a favourability rating above zero. It really helps me get through the day.

Dear Keir, my boss is a liability, but he refuses to step down. Should he make way for a strong woman, like – I dunno – his former deputy?
Angela, Hove

Hi Ange, great to hear from you. I’ll venture a guess that you’re the deputy in this hypothetical. If so, I’d urge caution. Maybe your boss’s job isn’t as easy as it looks. Maybe it’s a soul-sucking nightmare that would turn your red hair white if you spent so much as a day in his shoes. Everyone wants to wear the crown, but few think about the strain on their cervical vertebrae.

Also, you may be overlooking your boss’s strengths. For instance, having his tax affairs in order. It would be a shame if you usurped him, only for HMRC to come down on you like a tonne of bricks. I suggest you take a long draw on your vape pen, and give this boss – whoever he is – a break.

Right, back to rolling my proverbial rock up the proverbial hill. Before I go, I want to address the latest allegations from Gabriel Pogrund and Patrick Maguire. According to them, I’m a total nonentity, a leader in name only. They claim I’m the Beatles’ Nowhere Man: “Doesn’t have a point of view / Knows not where he’s going to.” I mean, have you ever heard something so ludicrous?

Apparently, a former aide described me as “the least intellectually curious person I have ever met”. Rubbish. For example, I’m curious to know who said that, so I can give them a clout round the ear! Look, people have always underestimated me. I’ve been called “the shite knight”, “McSweeney’s mannequin” and “an empty suit Lord Alli paid for”. But if I’m such a dullard, how come I’m prime minister, and no one can do a thing about it?

Yours unflushably,

PS: I’m sorry to say this will be the last edition of Dear Keir. I can no longer justify taking time out of my prime ministerial schedule. My only regret is that I never made it clear to readers what my dad did for a living.

He was a toolmaker.