If Diane Abbott sprawled on the front bench, texting mates, the Tory media would have been fine with that too

In any reasonable, measured society, Jacob Rees-Mogg would be in a circus, billed as The Gentry from another Century. And people would gather to watch him polish his monocle

It’s a sign of what a fun country we are, that not only can we create Jacob Rees-Mogg, but we allow him to become a senior member of the government. If he discovered how appalled some people were that he had lounged across the front bench in parliament during a crucial session, he’d say: “Indeed it was appalling, for I lay there some 13 minutes, and no one enquired as to whether I wished a backbencher to peel a kiwi fruit for me, naked on a rug of panda fur.”

During the next critical vote he’ll express his boredom by releasing a flock of pheasants and firing at them, and ordering Philip Hammond to pluck them while reciting the Latin names for species of worms.

During meetings with Dominic Cummings, in which they discussed what to do with Kenneth Clarke, he’ll have grumbled: “It’s imperative that I spank him. On the bare arse with a Bible. With two-inch nails protruding from the Book of Leviticus. For his own good”.

Luckily our system treats everyone the same, so if Diane Abbott had sprawled across the front bench like that, texting her mates, it would have been dismissed as irrelevant by the same newspapers that ignored it when it was Rees-Mogg.

Some people see him as a terrible indictment on the country, but this is unfair. It’s our own fault, for taking him seriously.

In any reasonable measured society, he’d be in a circus, billed as The Amazing Victoriana – the Gentry from another Century. And people would flock from the village to watch him polish his monocle and abandon his children to a nanny, and in a fitting gesture to the times he belongs in, for an extra pound you could poke him with a stick.

But we’re so used to assuming that if someone’s posh they must be clever, we let him crash the country to pieces instead.

Similarly we have a prime minister regarded as a classic wit, and he gave a fine example when he responded to Jeremy Corbyn’s mention of chlorinated chicken with the line: “The only chlorinated chicken I see is you.” What’s so marvellous about this quip is it works on so many different intellectual levels.

This must be why the fees are so expensive at Eton, you don’t get wit like that on the cheap. Maybe they practise hilarious insults at Eton, at a special course. They fetch in a peasant and make them shout words, then the student has to respond with an instant eloquent retort. If they shout “kettle”, and the boy quickly answers “ah, indeed it is YOU who are a kettle”, they get extra marks and they’re allowed to dip their genitals in custard.

But soon they’ll have to be elected by the whole population if they want to carry on. So it’s lucky they’ve suddenly discovered they have a sum of money, to spend on things that for the last nine years they’ve insisted we didn’t have any money for.

Sajid Javid announced the necessity for austerity to come to an end this week, so it’s alright to pay for schools and a police force now. Because it’s not like the time Labour ruined the economy by paying for things, which was reckless as it was during an economic boom.

This is the proper time to boost spending, when everything’s calm and predictable, and the government’s own report tells us if the Brexiteers get their way and we leave Europe with no deal, we’ll run out of food and medicine, and money will be so worthless if you have a £10 note you might as well shove it up your arse to see if it’s a cure for scurvy.

If you were a cynic you might wonder if the Conservatives realise Labour’s promise to spend money on services we need, rather than on tax cuts for friends and family of the prime minister, could be popular. So they’ve decided to copy the opposition. Or maybe they’ve picked up Labour’s policies by mistake, and tomorrow Iain Duncan Smith will announce: “When it comes to defence, let me give this promise to the British people. Freedom for the oppressed people of Palestine. Gaza will be free. Vote Conservative.”

So amid the confusion, a few issues remain certain for the forthcoming election. The media will be as reliable as ever, as we can see from the coverage of Boris Johnson’s new puppy, which clearly wasn’t in any way a public relations stunt orchestrated by the government, but simply a charming story, and the dog’s arrival was another coincidence.

Next week they’ll tell us President Bashar al-Assad of Syria has a cute tortoise, which he always feeds after gassing a village. It’s simply adorable.

No one can claim they haven’t been warned as to who these people are. This is a feudal dynasty that has to be voted in by its subjects.

If it was honest it would say: “We’re a bunch of talentless privileged sociopathic incoherent sadists who, without an outrageous sense of entitlement and staggering advantages granted by birthright, would be incapable of the simplest tasks such as stroking a cat or looking at a tomato.”

“We despise all of you born into what we consider lesser bloodlines, which is all of you, up to and including the Queen. We would happily destroy you and not lose a minute’s sleep. Vote Conservative.”

If it wins, we will be the equivalent of African nations voting to be recolonised and for the resumption of the slave trade. Or like those Thai football kids voting to be returned to their terrifying cave, as the daylight was making them sneeze.

Surely we’re not that bloody daft.