Thursday 16th April
The Prime Minister showed his angry side on BBC One last night, but it
really is just the tip of the iceberg as his favourite part of the electoral
process gets another airing tonight.
8.00am
“Are you going to watch the
debate tonight?” asked Samantha.
“Debate? What debate?” responded
the worried PM. “I didn’t sign up to any more debates. I told them – one debate
where I could be aloof and distant and wave photocopies about, whilst everyone
shouts at each other. Debates make me angry. I’m a very angry man. Did you see
me with Evan Davis last night? I was a vision of fury.”
“Calm down dear,” said Samantha. “It’s
the Challengers’ Debate. Everyone apart from you and Nick. Remember?”
“Oh yes,” said David, recalling
his dreams of Nicola Sturgeon tearing Ed Miliband apart. “They’re not
empty-chairing me are they?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Empty chairs make me angry too.
I’m adding them to the book,” he said as he took out a little notebook engraved
with the title: The Little Book of Rage.
11.12am
“Why does no-one invite me to
things anymore?” asked Nick Clegg, as he bemoaned the fact that he hadn’t been
asked onto this evening’s debate.
“You still here?” said Vince
Cable.
“Not going anywhere Vince.
Nowhere to go. No-one wants me anymore.”
“Really?” inquired Vince. “How
strange.”
“It’s not fair. I should be
allowed to go. I’m not the Prime Minister. I maybe the Deputy Prime Minister
and Lord President of the Council, but I’m still an outsider. Stupid title:
Lord President of the Council. I’m not a Lord.”
“Not just yet,” said Vince.
1.30pm
“What are you doing here?” asked
Yvette Cooper of Theresa May, at the studio for this evening’s debate.
“Haven’t you heard? We’re in the Spin
Room tonight.”
“But your leader’s not debating.”
“It’s all a question of balance.”
“Balance? You chose not to be in
this debate.”
“Yes,” said May, “and in doing so
we very generously gave you uninterrupted airtime. In the interests of balance,
we need to be given some airtime once you’re all done.”
“This room is for challengers!”
screamed Cooper. “And you’re not a challenger.”
“Not just yet,” said Theresa
slyly.
2.31pm
Labour are preparing their happy
warrior to go into battle, with screen-test preparation for the Leader of the
Opposition, conducted by Labour’s media director.
“Okay, Ed. Just look into the
camera. That’s great Ed. Little less creepy. Little less. Little bit less.
Okay, that’s a little creepier than last time. Bring it down. Little less.
Little less…”
2.57pm
“Are you relaxed Mr Cameron?”
asks Matthew Holehouse of The Daily
Telegraph, rather boldly.
The permanently seething PM
sardonically answers, “I don’t
feel relaxed, but I’m doing an impression of it”, and he walks on making a
mental note to punch a cushion at the earliest opportunity.
3.01pm
Back at Labour HQ:
“Just a tiny, little bit less
creepy, Ed. Or, just look at the camera less.”
“Okay, okay,” says Ed.
“No, no,” said David Axelrod. “He
has to look at the camera. Latest polling suggests that people are beginning to
fancy him.”
“Really?” replied the Media
Director. “Well, if it works, it works. It doesn’t have to make sense. Keep
looking at the camera. Go wild. Now, Ed, would you like a break before we go
on?”
“I think that’s a really
important question, and I’m glad you’ve asked it.”
“Yeah, I think we need as much
time as we can get.”
5.05pm
David Cameron learns that,
earlier today, Ed Miliband hit out at the PM’s absenteeism from the debate,
saying: “Here’s what I believe, I think if you are applying for the job of
Prime Minister, the very least people expect if for you to turn up to the job
interview.”
Cameron flies into a rage. Well,
from one rage to another.
“This makes me furious,” he says,
as on-lookers suspect that the Prime Minister’s puce complexion is beginning to
show flashes of green. “I’m not applying for the job of Prime Minister. I’m
reapplying! That makes me different! I don’t have to go through the
preliminaries. That’s it: Miliband’s going in the book.”
He takes his notebook out.
“Oh. He’s already in it. Quite a
few times. As are benefit scroungers, failing to win a majority, impertinent
questions, grey hairs, and not having any cutlery at a barbeque. Well, I’ll put
him in again, just for good measure.”
He tries to write in the name but
finds his pen is out of ink.
“Bloody hell!” he bellows. “Fine
then. I’ll just have to write it with my natural bile instead.”
The Prime Minister storms out,
leaving a bewildered team.
“Well,” said Boris Johnson wryly,
“someone needs to chillax.”
Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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