Yes I Am Indeed Human Why Do You Query

On the eve of the Grenfell Tower disaster's first anniversary, a time when a less gauche breed of Christian might consider hiding away for a bit and repenting in sackcloth and, more pertinently, ashes, the dead-eyed warden of HM Prison UK has been pontificating on social media. As leader of a government whose sense of duty towards its citizens is obsessively proportional to their wealth, influence and racism, Tumbledown Tessie was predictably clueless about why officialdom had taken so long to respond. Partly, no doubt, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea was to blame; it is certainly remarkable that so crass, cavalier and wealthy a council could ever have been allowed into the Conservative Party, and doubtless the good folk at Central Office are even now working flat-out to ensure that blame for the oversight falls justly on London's firefighters.

Although the council was slow and insensitive in its response, such was not the case with the dead-eyed warden herself, who turned up only two days after the fire to have her picture taken. She now regrets the delay, which left something to be desired as a public-relations gesture and may, perish the thought, have given some people the idea that she didn't care. Of course this was never the case. From the start of her ministry until now, if there has been one question, one danger, one ever-present menace about which the dead-eyed warden has always cared deeply, that would be the question of angry poor people; particularly if they happen to be Muslim or Coloured and thereby look a bit migranty, but still have yet to be deported.