Hold my beer – Lord Frost has been elevated to the Cabinet to be the new minister for the EU, and it is not immediately clear whether this is a move for political continuity with our continental chums or a burst of peak trolling. He clearly knows the brief after leading negotiations, but it oozes Brexity middle finger for a Eurosceptic cabal to appoint an unelected bureaucrat to deal with all those, er, pesky unelected Brussels bureaucrats. However, do not rule out that this was shot straight from the hip. That is, after all, how the albino gonk likes to roll.

In trumpeting the twist, Frosty tweeted some wince-worthy bilge about having stood, ‘on the shoulders of giants & particularly those of Michael Gove’. And no, that shitpuff fizzed not from a parody account but straight from blue-ticked Frosty the blowfan.

Now, the red-faced Baron is no slouch on matters intellectual, but that does not necessarily cut the Dijon when top-notch conniving and intriguing are the order of the day. He may well be slapping his own baggy-suited back upon snaffling a plum gig after having painted an overreaching portrait of his indispensability, but he should not count his chlorinated chickens.

While a potentially grateful nation anticipates the exquisite prospect that Frost might have outmanoeuvred Shitweasel for the EU cabinet position, we ought not to forget that the éminence grise stands peerless at the apex of elite and sublime snakery.

It is indeed infinitely more probable that King Slime had finessed Johnson into delivering a snub, thereby hoodwinking him into shifting the weighty responsibility for making a success of the flaky post-Brexit stratagem onto the hapless ennobled blob.

Indeed, the smart money says that this latest caper that sees Gove shuffle out of sight, exit stage extreme right, is borne more out of sleight than out of a slight.

Boris thinks he’s shafted him, whereas only one person is being prepped for a big ol’ rooting. And it ain’t Slitherpuss.

That is the essence of Top Toad. He fashions parallel ‘realities’ that converge on his end goals, and his end goals only.

It might in fact turn out to be a jolly sound wheeze to have a man like the crumpled Lord behind the Brexit wheel, who has at least had a peek under the Brussels bonnet. However, no compos mentis person would retain Gove at the top table at the beating heart of Government, with full access to the inner sanctum, and with the time and space for limitless machinating and finagling. That is guaranteeing an implosion of trust and cohesion in the not-too-distant future.

Alas, while hope may spring eternal, expecting a modicum of sanity from this gang is almost certainly a bridge too far.

And all this is nudging towards an endgame that is as on the cards now as it was in 2005 when the now-familiar silvery trail of weird, pseudo-Scots mendacity first adorned the corridors of Westminster.

Gove.uk.