The BBC, knowing the need for balance, are drafting the news story of Kate Middleton going into labour.
“The Duchess of Cambridge has gone into labour. Kensington Palace has been very conservative in managing the media, saying they will be more liberal after the birth. Whilst she was overdue, the Duchess’ doctors had told her “You kip if you want to, particularly if you look a bit green”. Kensington Palace has said that they are hoping for a “Smooth Natal Progression”, or SNP as it’s known.”
“This is good,” says the editor, “But how the fuck do we work Plaid Cymru into this?”
The baby has been born and very quickly at that. The parties are now thinking of how best to greet the news, and what to give. For Labour it’s easy: a bouquet of roses. For the others, it’s a bit trickier.
At Conservative Campaign Headquarters, they’ve settled on a Bonsai tree: “Thank God we changed our emblem. I don’t think a flaming torch would have been appropriate.”
The SNP have settled on a painting of the Battle of Bannockburn, and Plaid have sent a biography of Owain Glyndwr, whilst UKIP are sending one English pound.
The Lib Dems, though, are stumped, because St Mary’s Hospital wouldn’t let them bring their live eagle in.
Ed Miliband has announced that he will be putting his election pledges into stone, literally. He has commissioned an 8ft6in-high representation of their six election pledges to be placed in Downing Street's Rose Garden upon him being appointed PM. He says this will counteract the erosion of trust.
This is mysteriously coincidental, for last night I had a dream.
I met a traveller from a future land
Who said: One vast and thoughtless piece of stone
Stands in a grass lawn. Near them on the soil,
Half sunk, a crumbling visage lies, whose grin
And grey-tipped hair and sneer of cold command
Tell that it's electors those passions misread
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The land that mock'd them and the hearts misled.
And on the pedestal these words appear,
"My name is Milibandias, king of kings:
Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and lowly lands stretch far away.
Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.