Geoff

The press conference begins. Geoffrey stands at the podium, smiling serenely. A sea of reporters, cameras flashing, microphones poised, waits expectantly.

Reporter 1: Prime Minister, can you explain why the “Housing for All” scheme appears to be drastically underfunded and is already behind schedule?

Geoffrey (calmly): Yes, well, that’s because we don’t actually have the money for it.

Reporter 1: Sorry, what?

Geoffrey: You heard me. We promised affordable housing for every citizen, but in reality, we’re barely managing to renovate a few old council flats. Truth be told, we crunched the numbers, realised it was impossible, but announced it anyway because it sounded good at the time. Next question.

Reporter 2: Prime Minister, are you saying that your government knowingly announced a policy you couldn’t fund?

Geoffrey: (nodding cheerfully) Absolutely. Happens all the time, really. You should’ve seen the transport budget last year. We said we’d revolutionise the railways. What we meant was: “We’re going to buy some new vending machines for the stations.”

Reporter 3: Prime Minister, earlier this week you were quoted saying, “This government is committed to fiscal discipline.” Care to elaborate?

Geoffrey: Oh, that was just me buying time because I didn’t know what else to say. A treasury adviser gave me some complicated briefing about the deficit, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. So, I just said the usual rubbish about “discipline” and “prudence.” What do those words even mean in politics? I’ve been saying them for years, and I’ve never bothered to check!

A wave of laughter ripples through the press pool. Geoffrey’s aides are huddled together off to the side, looking mortified. One is furiously texting on his phone, possibly to draft an apology or resignation letter.

Reporter 4: You have received criticism concerning lack of clarity around your foreign policy. Can you explain your strategy for dealing with international trade negotiations?

Geoffrey: (shrugs) We’re winging it. Half the time, we just agree to whatever the other country suggests because we’re too embarrassed to admit we don’t know what they’re talking about. Last month, I nodded along to some trade deal about rare earth minerals—don’t even know what they are. Do you? Honestly, this job is like being in a group project where you’re the only one who’s done none of the work. You just bluff your way through it, hoping no one notices. I’ve been doing it for years!

Aide 1 steps forward nervously, trying to intervene.

Aide 1: Prime Minister, perhaps we should wrap this up—

Geoffrey: Oh no, I’m just getting started! Let’s talk about the NHS, shall we? I keep saying we’re “putting it at the top of the agenda,” but to be perfectly honest, the only agenda item on my mind most days is whether lunch will include those little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. The ones with the smoked salmon. Delicious.

Reporter 5: Prime Minister, how do you respond to accusations that your government isn’t addressing climate change?

Geoffrey: Oh, that’s simple. We’re not addressing it. I mean, we hold summits and make big promises, sure, but the second we get back, it’s right back to business as usual. You know, cars, planes, oil—no one’s actually sacrificing their morning lattes for solar panels. And between you and me, I can’t even recycle properly. Is it plastics in the blue bin or the green one? I can never remember.

More laughter from the press. By this point, the aides have given up, slumping back in their seats in defeat.

Geoffrey: So, in conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, the truth is this: I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. Most of us don’t. We’re just trying to keep our jobs, give a good speech, and avoid getting caught on a hot mic saying something regrettable. And frankly, I’m fine with that. Aren’t you?

Stunned response.

Geoffrey: Well, this has been fun! If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to a meeting about a “robust national security strategy,” which means I’ll be staring at a PowerPoint and nodding thoughtfully. Have a good day, everyone!

Geoffrey steps away from the podium, waving happily as the press continues to shout questions. His aides scramble to follow him, visibly distraught.