The Great British Fake-off, by Mark Lovett

 A bald man and a Goth stared at an Autocue. “Bakers, welcome back to the tent for your Show Stopper Challenge”, shouted Matt,  “today Prue and Paul would like you to bake, not one, but two cakes”. 

“That’s right”, opined Noel, wiping mascara from his eyes. “One should be an image of how you see yourself, whilst the other should be how others see you; no Doppelgängers allowed!

“On your marks, get set – Fake!"

Weighed down by a surfeit of hair gel, Paul Hollywood sashayed across towards an overweight blonde baker.

Alongside Paul stood an eighty-one-year-old Dame from Cape Town, looking like a Mondrian painting with glasses.

“Now, Mr Johnson tell me about your cakes”, queried Prue, “How are they different?”

 “Well, yes and no, whilst on the other hand, maybe. Post hoc ergo propter hoc is the key to this culinary triumph you see emerging before you. By the way would you like an intimate dinner this evening; Carrie is away”.

“I’m sorry Mr Johnson but I am 24 years older than you and my son Paul is now one of your MPs!”

 “I don’t care about Backbenchers and what is more, 24 years, is nothing – that is exactly how much older I am than Carrie”.

Remembering that Johnson had insulted Scousers in 2011, Paul Hollywood adjusted his stare to warp speed eleven and sneered at Boris. “Answer Prue’s question!” 

“Oh, I never do that, people might at last realise that behind the charisma lies a mendacious fraud. Vox populi is not in my Latin Primer.”

Thus, they had to wait to find out that Boris’ first cake was Winston Churchill in a blonde wig, whilst his second was Pinocchio.

Johnson didn’t win the Star Baker apron. That went to Emmanuel Macron for his two gateaux of Napoléon and Napoléon.

Angela Merkel was a close second with Catherine the Great and Mutti, whilst Joe Biden was third with Franklin Roosevelt. He failed to produce a second cake as he could not decide between Statler and Waldorf from the Muppets.

Boris didn’t actually finish, as Pinocchio’s nose kept on growing; he wondered why. Non ducor, duco Boris whispered to himself, although he worried whether Vincit qui se vincit still applied.

As the detritus was being cleared away, Matt and Noel sat in the corner. “Before I met you” said Noel, “I used to think Alopecia was a mythical European State, much like Ruritania”. 

“If only that were true” replied Matt, “then we could make Boris the King and get the Brothers Grimm to write his speeches”.