Just as the trans agenda burps up a social shield for gender-benders, door Matt Hancock has discovered the plan B fallback of every me-me-me charlatan – the hidden disability.

Yes, the big cock has squeezed out his personal cheese – he’s dyslexic.

While the public was poised to slate him for being as thick as mince and bigoted, people will now shower him with sympathy for having big toes.

Crazy that these jungle shenanigans get a greater profile than Putin edging us all closer to unclear war, but that’s file.

Matty clearly thinks he’s the greatest of all time, but that’s more likely to have stemmed from when he went to a toga party dressed as a goat.

You’d hope he’d be just a tad more contrite about his role in the COVID debacle, but that’s just not in his DNA.

And no, that’s not the National Dyslexic Association.

What with all the self-serving tripe he’s barfed up to the viewing public, he deserves to have his mouth washed out with soup.

It would however be arguably more fitting to give him a long sentence or relocate him to Reading.

As it is, deselection looms, and he’s going to need a new career. He could become a funeral director and give his competitors an urn for their money. Or perhaps a baker and go out all buns glazing.

Let’s hope the weaselly lothario gives Mexican restaurants a wide berth, though.

Grab your taco, love – you’ve pulled.