Deep down, we always knew it would end this way. Like England losing in a World Cup semi-final, like Piers Morgan starting a fight with a gay footballer, like the Dalai Lama revealing himself to be as woke as a man from the 1970s who tells random women to “smile more, love”. We always knew the Tory leadership campaign would, eventually, come down to foxhunting. Why wouldn’t the most consequential leadership election of our lifetimes, one that could potentially define this country’s relationship with the rest of the world and bring ruin to our economy for decades to come, be defined by a debate on whether or not it is right to tear a live animal apart with angry dogs?

Having been at plenty of dinner parties with middle-class Tories from the home counties, I can tell you there are really only three topics of conversation – foxhunting, Hugh Bonneville, and London knife crime statistics (the latter only since Sadiq Khan became mayor). These debates are not usually naturally occurring, but rather brought up by the host to distract from the fact that the venison is a little dry, or that Tabitha has clearly been having a torrid six-month affair with the gamekeeper. And the same applies here. Jeremy Hunt has made – and then quickly retracted – a promise of a free vote on foxhunting, mostly to distract from the fact that economists and EU negotiators have roundly dismissed his detailed no-deal plan. You might wonder what foxhunting has to do with the immediate Brexit-related problems facing this country right now, but we should give Hunt credit – hunting in a post-no-deal world will at least be fairer on the foxes, as beagles will have to learn urban parkour to navigate the miles of static trucks in what will be The Lorry Park Formerly Known As Kent.

It’s tempting to think that Hunt came up with this idea by randomly picking the names of MPs who supported him out of a hat and turning the words into a policy (“Field-Hands-Hunt-Fox – and so should we all!”). In reality it’s part of a very cunning media plan to make him more palatable to Tory members – which has the side-effect of making him look completely unhinged to normal people. Up until recently, Hunt tried to present himself as the Sensible One in this campaign, which fell apart on two counts. First, trying to be the Sensible One in a Tory leadership contest is like trying to be the Brainy One at a Chimpanzee Faeces Throwing Tournament – no one is judging you on those terms. Second, Hunt isn’t the Sensible One – you can tell because he’s still a member of the sex death cult formerly known as the Conservative party.

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Hunt keeps talking about how he can be trusted because he worked in business – but so did Christian Bale’s character in American Psycho. Hunt bullied junior doctors into an unsafe and irresponsible contract, and now uses it as evidence that he can “do deals”, ignoring the fact that those doctors are now fleeing the NHS in record numbers. And let’s not forget: he was a major part of the sensible coalition government that sensibly pushed a policy of mass unnecessary (but very sensible) austerity, which sensibly led to the deaths of thousands of vulnerable people, sensibly facilitated the destruction of local communities and sensibly suppressed wages throughout the country. And after all that, he agreed to an extremely sensible referendum that would blow up the entire sensible political system that he was a part of.

So what changed? Hunt gave a hint in an answer at a recent hustings when he said that “in this country, it’s people that tell politicians what to do, not politicians that tell people what to do”. Apart from fundamentally misunderstanding representative democracy, this quote explains Hunt’s change in campaign direction. He’s realised that, far from a Sensible Politician, the thing most members want more than anything is someone who will facilitate their most bloodthirsty bidding. As such, he’s pivoted to being the best parody of a Conservative member that he can be.

Foxhunting? Sure, bring it back. Abortion? Limit it to 12 weeks. Northern Ireland? What is that? If I can’t get votes from it, it’s not a real place.

At this point, though, Jeremy, with election ballots being sent out, you have to go big, or go home (ie, back to the manor house in your constituency where none of the consequences of your cruel politics will affect you). Forget bringing back the death penalty – the real Tory member will only accept you if you bring back criminals being hung, drawn and quartered. You’ll have to bring back section 28 too, and go further – make it illegal for anyone to mention Freddie Mercury or Megan Rapinoe within three miles of a school. And for a real vote winner, you’ve got to at least explore the idea of getting back the empire. Bring back national service, get the children to build galley ships (made out of the finest British oak), and then make them row to the subcontinent, dammit, ready to invade again.

Most of all though, Jeremy, to become leader, you must promise not to lead. You must only follow obediently the most rancid and dangerous dreams of your decaying, bitter party. You must have no principles, no values, no beliefs that cannot be dropped in favour of cruel fury and reactionary violence. Because in your party, it’s the members that tell politicians what to do. And the rest of us must suffer the consequences.

• Jack Bernhardt is a comedy writer and occasional performer