Michael Gove

Tough draw this one. Not because Gove is nothing less than entirely objectionable, but because he’s the target for so much derision and ridicule already, frankly it’s difficult to come up with something that hasn’t been said before.

With miniature jowls wobbling like pockets of loose change and the meatiest of bottom lips, Gove sports the sort of face where every feature looks disproportionate to the other. Nothing appears to be anchored to anything underneath and is left free to wobble erratically about the front of his head like a water balloon made of human flesh.

Strange, gnomish qualities aside, there’s an undeniable runtiness about him. He’s a diminutive hanger-on, a yes man, an arse-licking parasite who would merrily ram his bulbous chops firmly into the sprawling anus of whomever might further his career, clinging barnacle-like to his more successful host, tongue wedged into their winking sphincter, feeding off their status and success until either he's bled them dry or someone better comes along. A human ‘cuntipede’.

Secretly he knows he's incapable of being taken seriously. He's eminently dislikeable; a bandwagon politician without an ounce of credibility or compassion; a sycophantic weakling who, try as he might, will never be one of the big boys - a Richard Hammond for Westminster.