The doorbell rang. Jeremy Corbyn was standing on the doorstep waving a do-not-bend envelope that wouldn’t fit through the letterbox. I didn’t know he was a postman, but the role suited him very well.
He also works in a local estate agent, when he isn’t walking his dog or strolling along the pavement with his grey-haired wife.
The postman knocked
They can’t all be Jeremy Corbyn though, can they? They must be decoys, deployed strategically to confuse his enemies or put them off the scent, like Saddam Hussein and his son Uday.
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