Boris had never really planned on becoming prime minister. Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure how he ended up in politics. There were years spent muddling through speeches, looking the part, and knowing how to do just enough to keep a title. Now here he was, leader of the country—at least on paper. In reality, Boris was a man who couldn’t resist a scheme to make an extra bit of cash, no matter how unsuited he was for the job.

On his first day, Boris had proudly taken his place behind the big desk. The smell of leather and old paper was invigorating. He rolled his chair back and forth, propped his feet up, and imagined himself in history books, dressed in elegant coats and waving a triumphant flag. But as he thumbed through the binder labelled "Important Briefing: National Strategy," his eyes began to glaze over. Statistics, strategies, policies… he barely made it two pages before he started yawning.

"Sir, the team is waiting for you in the Cabinet Room," his assistant Harriet announced from the doorway. She wore the practised patience of someone used to waiting on Boris.

"Right, right! Cabinet Room!" Boris waved her away, though he made no movement to actually stand. Then he noticed an email popping up on his computer screen with the title, Lucrative Investment Opportunity.
His eyes lit up. “This sounds… rather important,” he muttered to himself, clicking the link with eagerness. Moments later, he was engrossed in an offer to invest in a dubious-sounding offshore avocado farm.

"Sir," Harriet called again from the door, louder this time.

"Yes, yes!" he said, snapping the laptop shut and adjusting his tie. "National Strategy and all that." He swaggered into the Cabinet Room, affecting what he thought was a thoughtful frown. The ministers were seated around the table, some with furrowed brows, some looking slightly alarmed, all with stacks of papers in front of them.

“Boris,” the chancellor said, “we’ve discussed the proposed budget adjustments to education, and I think it’s urgent that we—”
Boris held up a hand, nodding sagely as he scrolled through his phone under the table, making the occasional “hmm” noise. He had nearly forgotten that his job actually involved decisions.

"Listen here,” he said after a beat of silence. “What about… investment in avocados? Have we thought about it?”

The room went silent. The ministers exchanged glances. Harriet coughed pointedly. “Sir, we were discussing education funding.”

“Yes, yes, education.” Boris gave a generous wave of his hand. “I mean, could we get avocados into the curriculum? Health benefits and so on? Teach children about the value of… agriculture?”

“Moving on,” Harriet interjected, rescuing the discussion. “The National Health Service funding is also due for review, sir.”

“Right. Review!” Boris nodded again, but his thoughts had drifted to another concern. His friend Donald had texted earlier with a tantalising invitation: ‘Boris, old chum! Fancy a bit of golf? Great investment talk happening after!’

Golf, investing, friends… ah, yes. It was the perfect combination. He tapped out a hasty reply under the table: ‘On my way shortly, just governing the nation. Be there by three.’

“Now, on to foreign policy, sir,” Harriet was saying, bringing him back to the room. Boris sighed. Foreign policy? How was he supposed to deal with foreign policy when Donald was probably out there negotiating golf cart rentals and investment tips?
“Foreign policy,” he muttered, stalling. “Good policy. Let’s keep it foreign.”

One of the junior ministers piped up hesitantly, “Sir, perhaps we could discuss the trade agreements with the EU?”
“Trade, yes, very important,” Boris agreed. “But we must also… trade carefully!” He chuckled, satisfied with his cleverness, though he was the only one. Harriet glanced at the ceiling in quiet exasperation.

Later that afternoon, after excusing himself from yet another “pressing briefing” with some vague comment about “patriotic duty,” Boris arrived at the golf course, beaming. Donald greeted him with an overenthusiastic slap on the back.

“Boris, my man! Thought you’d never get here.”

“It’s all about priorities, Donald. And speaking of priorities, any new ventures?”

They took their place on the golf course as Donald launched into a pitch about an app that tracked your golf game with suggestions on how to invest on the various courses you played. Boris, barely paying attention, nodded eagerly while calculating how much he could afford to sink into it. A Prime Minister with a portfolio of golf course investments? It sounded very… modern.

“So, what about, you know, actually running the country?” Donald asked casually as he lined up a shot. “How’s that coming along?”

Boris chuckled. “Oh, I leave the details to the team. I’m more the… big picture fellow.” He mimed looking thoughtfully into the distance, though all he saw were pound signs.

Just then, a buzz interrupted him. Harriet’s name flashed on his phone, which he answered with a hasty, “Yes, yes, very busy—emergency consultations.”

“Sir, the press conference on economic reforms starts soon,” she replied, her voice flat with the kind of patience you could only have after years of handling Boris.

“Oh! Right. Well, tell them I’m… consulting on vital… golf statistics,” he replied, only half-joking.

“Sir, your approval ratings are dropping,” she said, ignoring his excuse.

"Approval ratings, Harriet? Who needs them?" He looked around and winked at Donald, who chuckled.

The press conference was a blur. Boris walked on stage, waved a bit too enthusiastically, and mumbled a few stock phrases about the importance of “sound financial decisions” and “thinking for the future.” He accidentally mentioned the avocado farm and golf stocks mid-speech, baffling everyone in the room, especially his own ministers.

Back in his office later, Harriet tried to debrief him on his, er, unique performance. "Sir, you might want to be a bit more, well, focused."

"Focused?" Boris replied, waving his hand. "It’s the big picture, Harriet! You know, the long game!" He laughed at his own cleverness, proud to have squeezed in another golf reference.

And so, the country chugged along, almost as if by sheer inertia. Boris continued to juggle his dual responsibilities of sort-of-leading and very-much-investing, blissfully unaware that his career, like his golf game, was on a rather impressive downward trajectory.

Written on a prompt to retell an Aesop Tale