“We’re Very Close, Heather. Soon It Will Be All Ours Again To Give Back To The King” Pearl Necklace Tells Spellbound Humphreys

DRIFTING into an amnesic trance, presidential hopeful Heather Humphreys became transfixed on the pearl necklace around her neck, its glow shimmering back at her in the mirror as the Fine Gael candidate slipped deeper into possession.

“We are very close now, Heather,” a trans-dimensional voice intoned, its accent thick with 17th century English. “Soon it will all be ours again to return to the King. Keep sympathising with the plebs about housing, no matter what your advisers say. This is our way in, and soon you shall be free of my spell.”

The former Fine Gael minister’s head swayed as the trance took hold. Humphreys tried to resist, muttering brief protests to no effect.

“You promised to let me go when I became a TD. I never wanted any of this,” she cried, clutching the necklace before yelping as the heat burned her fingers.

“Your work is not over yet, Heather. When you are President of Ireland we will release you. First, you must return the island to the King,” the voice ordered, apparently as ignorant as to the functions of the Irish Presidency as a man who made his fortune by being repeatedly hit in the head.

“I cannot promise that,” she replied, her voice breaking. “But I will take the quarter of a million a year, and you can do whatever you have to,” she said, clearly unhappy about being controlled by a haunted necklace, but comforted by the thought of a prominent and lucrative place in Irish history.

“Do not worry. We will guide your next moves,” the necklace whispered, its glow fading as the trance lifted.

“Fair enough. Right, time to kiss some baby heads,” Humphreys muttered to herself, straightening her jacket, before setting off for another photo opportunity in some ‘shithole rural village’.