Our saviour, JC, for it was he, seen on the streets of Belgravia.
Blessed are the poor, the meek, and the lowly. For lo, their time has come. The many shall inherit the Kingdom United, whilst the few shall inherit naught but wrath.
JC was seen today, walking among us, offering comfort and hope. Minister Pilate kept her distance, choosing only to meet with the top centurions, with the cleanest of uniforms, rather than their forces, decimated by ritual cuts.
As the bearded one passed through the crowds, they turned as one to the skies, beautified, as a cloud in the shape of the Kingdom passed overhead and showed His pleasure. Kneeling in front of an immigrant leper, JC slowly washed her feet, in a perfect sign of respect. He then ate a Pringle handed to him by a member of the crowd.
Joyous be this day, for those persecuted by insufficient seats in the Palace of Westminster, shall rise up today and drive the merchant bankers from the Temple, and reclaim what is rightfully ours.
For this is the word of the Manifesto. Peace be upon you.
