Disaster-prone prime minister who’s wearing the wrong trousers - Susan Morrison

Oddly, Mr Sunak does remind Susan Morrison of an Aardman Animations character

Perhaps not in Richmond, Mr Sunak’s home turf. It always surprises me that Prime Ministers are still working MPs. I can’t imagine someone battling with today’s terrifying geopolitical issues having much time to deal with the local bin collections issues in Hawes, the home of Wensleydale cheese.

Fun fact, Wensleydale is Wallace and Gromit’s favourite cheese, and just by featuring it in the films, it took on a whole new lease of life, became a hit and the factory survived.

Oddly, Mr Sunak does remind me a little of an Aardman character. I think it’s the suits. The jackets are clearly too small and he’s wearing the wrong trousers.

He doesn’t seem terribly keen on the whole campaigning thing. Perhaps the bins issues in Hawes are more pressing after all. Obviously, he can’t be expected to organise his entire campaign, but he seems to have left it to someone who doesn’t like him.

How else to explain a photo opportunity at the Titanic Quarter in Belfast? Wearing a lifejacket? Of course, he wouldn’t have seen the danger of being associated with the most famous maritime disaster in history. Rishi would have sailed first class and had a seat in a lifeboat.

Even without sinking ships behind him, his campaign doesn’t seem to be going well. I assume that’s why he decided to shake things up with his surprising and mildly bonkers moment when he unleashed his master plan and announced a possible return for National Service. He should have gone the whole hog. Let’s bring back sugar rationing, blackout blinds and Worker’s Playtime on the radio.

Someone, somewhere thought this plan would galvanise the electorate. It did. Into spasms of hysterics, not least the armed forces themselves. The Army has an aversion to being the babysitter of the nation. Crack, professional volunteer soldiers, that’s what they like. And you can’t really ask the Royal Navy to absorb a lot of young people forced into their ranks.

They did that before, it was called the press gang. They nabbed young men and shoved them onto ships, but that was back in the days of sail. Can’t really expect some underwhelmed conscripts to get to grips with life on a modern high tech aircraft carrier. Crikey, highly-paid professionals can barely build one that works these days. Fairly sure that the RAF isn’t keen on unleashing some bored kids on a Typhoon FGR.Mk4, even just to give it a wipe down with a Chamois leather – £110 million just for one, mate. You bet they want to keep it shiny.

No-one even liked the National Service when we had it. No, wait, there was one group who really did like it. Bank robbers. Very patriotic, the 1960s criminal classes. When the call came for the lads to join up, they did. Not for them the duck, dive and exemptions of the toffs. And very handy for the firms back home it was, too. The Army trained them how to use weapons and explosives, and even more importantly, how to plan a job like the Great Train Robbery. Well, I suppose that is a career opportunity of some sort, Mr Sunak.