Joy is uncontained in these parts tonight, because the packet steamer brings news of the final sanctification of Boris Johnson: he is to have a restaurant named after him. Allegedly,the Izakaya Boris serves ‘Zen Tapas’…entirely fitting in a way, as in the way of Zen one imagines something has happened when it hasn’t really happened, um, as such.

For example, in Zen archery, one has a bow with no arrow. One twangs the bow,and the imaginary arrow lands where you’d like it to land. Many Londoners would like to believe that Johnson has been a good Mayor, and that he seems to be a good egg who speaks his mind. But with Bojo, nothing is ever as it seems – be that taxi emissions, Barclay Bros donations, Barclays Bank Bikes, Newscorp educational contributiona, or temptress-bonking – and so it isn’t hard to imagine what an eaterie named after him would be like.

Personally, by the way, I think the name of the trough is pretty crap. Borisushi would be much better.

At Borisushi, bits of shoe leather (fashioned from leftover Met Plod footwear) would be presented as delicious delicacies set at prices any Londoner could afford – for example, a mere 20,000 Yuan a dish…..priced in Yuan of course to make all Chinese business persons feel at home.

If, however, one were to follow The Slog’s lead of comparing BoJo to the greatest living Italian, then the restaurant would be better named Borisconi. Therein would be served Spaghetti Mussolini, Paedophili di Brittanni, Polizia Suppresso Informazione, Pescatori di Rebekah rosso, Linguina alla Diggerono, Fettucini di VonGove, and of course that old favourite
Pressa mia Parma con Lira.

Personally, I think it’s all Bollocksnese, but that’s not official.

It is hoped that normal Slog service will resume in the next two days