Whitehall, in a fit of what can only be described as desperate, gin-soaked pragmatism, has turned to the private sector's most notorious crusher of dreams. Sir Nigel Frobisher, the man who once reduced the M&S sandwich aisle to a graveyard of coronation chicken and despair, has been tasked with solving youth unemployment. Because nothing says 'fresh perspective on the labour market' like a man who pioneered the cardboard-taste-and-lukewarm-soup strategy for the over-60s.
Sir Nigel, a man whose smile is rumoured to have been surgically installed by a disgruntled tailor, will apply 'corporate rigour' to the jobless youth. Translated from boardroom jargon: he will sack them until they find jobs. His plan, leaked to this correspondent during a particularly murky encounter with a Ministry of Defence intern, involves 'streamlining the pipeline' and 'reducing friction in the talent acquisition ecosystem'. This means he will replace Jobcentres with self-service kiosks, issue CVs printed on recycled cardboard, and require all applicants to complete a mandatory 12-hour shift at a disused Percy Ingle bakery.
Critics have called the appointment 'a grotesque pantomime of accountability'. The Minister for Youth Affairs, a man who once lost his wallet in a Greggs, defended the move: 'Sir Nigel understands value. He knows how to squeeze a penny until it screams. If anyone can make the youth realise that unemployment is simply a branding problem, it's him.'
In related news, Sir Nigel has already proposed a 'Youth Crunch' initiative, designed in partnership with the aforementioned bakery chain. Young people will be offered 'resilience training', which involves being locked in a room with a broken fax machine and a recording of James Corden's laugh. Those who survive will be awarded a 'Certificate of Employability', framed in the same pattern as the Sir Nigel's favourite lounge suit.
But let us not be too hasty to judge. After all, what could possibly go wrong? The same man who once rebranded the M&S loyalty card as 'Sparks of Joy' and then replaced it with a paperclip now holds the key to our nation's youth. The future is a polyester suit tie-dyed in the blood of the young. In other news, gin sales have spiked inexplicably.
I will drink to that. But I will use my own glass, lest Sir Nigel has fitted it with a cost-saving spout.
