Sunday, April 26, 2015

Weekend Election Diary - Days 27 & 28: Boris' Sexual Charisma Threatened By New Kid on the Block

You might have felt a disturbance in the force on Sunday morning, or detected a rip in the sexual continuum. Two alpha males came into close contact, and the ripples were felt far beyond Andrew Marr's studio.

Saturday 25th April
Embarrassment for David Cameron as he forgot which football team he supports. Mr Cameron, who claims an allegiance to Aston Villa, exhorted undecideds to support West Ham. The only possible confusion there is that they both play in claret and blue, but Cameron put the slip down to "brain fade" - similar to the sort of brain fade which saw legions of Londoners forget which red team they supported in the early 90s, as they shifted from Liverpool to Man United.

This raises questions. Does the PM get confused during World Cups and start supporting Germany over England? Is he, in fact, colour blind and decided to become PM because he was frustrated at not being allowed to be a pilot? He would have liked being a pilot. All those stewardesses he could have told to calm down.

There are a few reasons why this may have happened: temporary insanity, sucking up to Karen Brady, or (most likely) not having written the speech himself. I mean one can picture a Tory writer remembering what colour DC's team played in, not bothering to check, and leaving Cameron too embarrassed to admit the mistake.

Alternatively, this utterly harmless and mildly amusing gaffe was down to Cameron's being a devious shit. Or so says Alastair Campbell who believes that this alone is enough to turf the PM out of office.

Campbell should count his blessings, for he is a Burnley fan, and they also play in claret and blue.

Sunday 26th April
Boris arrived at New Broadcasting House early for one of his favourite things: seeing the make-up girls on The Andrew Marr Show.
"Good morning Eliza," he bumbled. "I'm afraid you're going to have to tame my lion's mane, and may I say you're looking particularly ravishing this morning."
Eliza was unmoved by Boris' charms. How unusual. Perhaps she'd had an argument with her boyfriend or something like that and needed duplicitous comfort rather than straight out flattery.
"Everything alright?" he inquired.
"Oh yes!" said Eliza, suddenly in a much sunnier mood. "I'm doing that Ed Miliband's make-up later. I'm really looking forward to meeting him."
"He's lovely."
Boris was speechless, in that he had nothing to say. Nevertheless, he did some indistinct bumbling to mask this.
"What makes you say that?" he finally said having gathered himself.
"He's dreamy. Caring, sexy, he's got great eyes, and I love that little grey bit at the front of his hair."
Boris was more discombobulated than usual. He could not understand what was going on. He had to assert himself.
"Well, he doesn't have Samson-esque locks like I do."
"I know Boris. I don't know how you live with your hair. It's a nightmare to do. All the girls think so."
Boris started muttering obscenities in Latin.

As a result of all of this, Boris was totally off his game in his interview. Then he had to wait until the traditional awkward sofa chat at the end of the show. In the meantime, he watched Ed Miliband’s interview. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't comprehend how this man was found to be attractive. The situation was made all the worse when he overheard Eliza saying "I've got such a crush on him. He can squeeze my middle anytime."
"By the Lightning of Zeus!" Boris bumbled.

Then it was onto the sofa - normally such a happy and exciting prospect for Boris, but this time fraught with insecurity and jealousy. As he sat there, he saw Ed wave at Eliza, and then give Boris a smug glance.
He launched into an angry attack on Ed about attacking the rich, but even his subconscious had turned against him, translating every statement into a self-reflexive comment about his manhood.
Miliband was laughing at him. Boris was boiling and blustering, and then Marr (a former challenger to Boris' title of London's Shagger-in-Chief) told him to shut up.

Boris got out wondering whether his apparent toppling in sex appeal had anything to do with him. Perhaps word had got about that, at the moment of climax, he made a point of shouting "Veni, vidi, vici".
He had quite enough of all of this, but then he got a phone call from a sobbing Lynton Crosby.
"Are you still at the Beeb, Bojo?"
"No, Lynton."
"Go back!"
"You have to do something. Ed said that I should be fired. He doesn't like me, Boris, and I think I might be in love with him."
"Et tu Lynton?" said Boris. "Then fall, Johnson!"

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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