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  • Matt Owen

NADINE DORRIES DOES A CULTURE

As told to Matt Owen


When the Prime Minister first offered me the position of Culture Secretary, I told him “no thanks” on account of the fact I don’t have shorthand, and secondly, I’m not a fan of that kind of yoghurt. I’m more a Ski or Prize Guy kind of person.

Eventually it was explained to me what the job would entail closing down Channel 4 News, eh, sorry selling off Channel 4, watching Netflix, attending those really long plays where they sing in funny foreign voices. Speaking of Netflix, I think the BBC and Channel 4 should take a leaf out of their book – I mean, who doesn’t want to endlessly scroll through a movie section which looks like your local video shop in 1991 after all the decent titles have been rented out.


I have to say that my new job as Cultural Minister For The Culture is a very tough one. I never knew there was so much of the culture out there. In fact there’s probably too much culture out there, if you get my drift.


There’s culture out there on the streets, in the museums, in the galleries and even Channel 5. Just my little joke, there. I know you may not believe this, but many people think I don’t have a sense of humour. I’ve just proved them wrong with that zinger at the expense of Channel 5. I recently told a joke in a cabinet meeting, which I’m told went down well. Jacob Rees-Mogg approached me afterwards and told me it was very amusing, although he did suggest I should prefix any joke with “I say, I say, I say…”. There are many people who are only too quick to take the Mickey out of Jacob’s ridiculously plummy voice and Dickensian Pez head features. I, for one am not one of those people. That would be both cruel and not nice of me.


It was wonderful to see The Ukraine win the Eurovision Singing Contest the other night. Like so many hard-working families, we were all gathered around our television, watching the drama unfold on the horrendously biased BBC. I don’t know about you, but I’m still literally singing the winning Ukrainian song as I go about my daily routine, wreaking cultural vandalism. It was also great to see England, sorry, the UK come in second place. I don’t know about you, but I thought the man with a big beard (not Graham Norton Anti-Virus – he’s been quite rude about me in the past) representing us did absolutely brilliantly with his song about a spaceman. When the show had finished, my phone started ringing – the PMs number came up. I picked up and there was 30 seconds of heavy breathing and some other strange “zipping” noise. After a while he tells me “Ah, sorry – wrong number. See you Monday”.


As Minister For Horticulture & DVDs, I’m responsible for many responsibilities. For instance, I have to make sure that Britain’s internet is fit for purpose. We all know that the internet – or the “net” as we call it, is a breeding ground for the most awful, seedy, contemptable people. But enough of my male colleagues on the back benches – you’ll be glad to hear I’ve been able to block them on the intranet thanks to the IT department.


Now that we’ve come to the end of the so-called “Partygate” inquiries, and everyone has been found not guilty (apart from the 83 individuals who were issued with fixed penalty notices) I think you’ll agree it’s time to move on and move forward. As the Minister For Overseas Digital Development & Cutlery I can see why so many people are still angry that people were getting drunk, playing spin the bottle and photocopying their tits inside Number Ten. It’s perfectly natural to be angry, and I understand this. What we also have to remember is the fact we’re all human beings – some of us awful human beings. Some of us truly horrendous human beings. However, we all need to let off steam every now and then, even if that means breaking the law and taking the piss out of the British public.


In my final paragraph of this blog as Secretary of State For Digital, Culture, Media, Sports & Leisure, Geography, History, Science & Nature, I would just like to say how proud I am to be part of something which is so much bigger than myself. Bigger than anything I can ever imagine – bigger even than the Prime Minister’s annual child maintenance cheque.

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