Dear Teresa,

It is with great regret that I offer my resignation from one of the great offices of State. I have realised that I am Foreign Secretary for quite a while now and have learned where most of the countries are, and so it was no casual decision to resign. Indeed, I have been waiting to fight for Britain against those who would seek to make her less than Great, for it is the Great United Kingdom that we are and must remain. We have not moved, but Europe. It has moved steadily to the east away from us, and I am determined to fight them on the benches.

It may be that others might resign, stirred by my action. May I state that resigning is not withdrawing, but going forward, just as Brexit is not leaving but Brentry, Britain entering into the freedoms that made her great – the freedom to underpay workers and shoot at other nations, freedoms that have existed since the time of the bow and arrow. Indeed, from now on in all my pronouncements which will sound Churchillian, like my great book about Churchill, I will use the term Brentry, not Brexit with its negative overtones. There comes a time in any generation when a man is needed who will stand against the forces from overseas, like King Canute when he waved at the sea and turned back the Vikings.

It is not my task to look at the details of the position you have developed on Brentry. Indeed, I do not look at details. When I was Mayor of London I knew where London was, but that did not mean I had to know where Accrington, Leamington Spa and other god-forsaken places were. That was my driver’s job, if I ventured to the outer reaches of the universe. Yet intellectually I am convinced that your Brexit is a bum deal, a hodge podge of trade, borders, immigrants and other such things, while I, like that other great statesman, Donald Trump, will build a wall. Uncle Hadrian nearly succeeded in keeping the Scots in Haggisland, but my wall will keep Europe in Europe and French cheese in France. It will stop them in the beeches and prevent them from taking away our holidays and the houses in Chelsea. The wall will be moveable like our Indian screen thing and Britain will once more rule the waves.

Recently, some people have questioned my British credentials, saying the name Boris sounds a bit bongo bongo, and so, before I might be suggested for Prime Minister, I am changing by name to Nigel, but not like that big mouthed UKIP guy, but Nige. So I would be grateful if you would call me Nige from now on. Gove will probably be on your side, but don’t trust him. He is a snake in the grass who will rat on you and eat you alive. My lot will be leaving bit by bit, I hope, and we can have a party for Brentry and history can be maid. I could offer you Culture and Sport if you want it. No hard feelings.

Yours faithfully,

Nige.