Investigative reporter Bartholomew Utterswaithe, reports on the situation regarding the anonymous threats received at the Nottingham Conservative supporters headquarters last week.
Party chairperson Hortensia Araminta Ponsomby-Smyth explained to Utterswaithe what had happened:
"A letter was received, with a local area date-stamp, from someone calling themselves: 'An impecunious, made redundant, ill-health suffering, hard of hearing, bald, pot-bellied, uneducated almost-male personage and voter!'
He made several threats: "I am of the opinion that Mr Cameron is an acrasial, aesthetically affictitious agniologist, and nepotist of the highest order. I now warn you that I intend to deal with his superior attitude and amarulence, causing as much pain and suffering on the animal as I can manage!"
Ponsomby-Smyth continued: This caused great concern to all three of our Conservative supporting members here in Nottingham. Adding: "He then openly disclosed his ill-intentions toward our beloved leader - declaring that he intended to inform the Little End Joseph Stalin Commemoration and Appreciation Society that Mr Cameron only uses three sheets of toilet paper per visit!"
Bartholomew Utterswaithe, then interviewed local G4S area manager Ian de Dark, who still has the task of protection Mr Cameron despite his companies Olympics cock-up.
"Mr Dark, why do you take this threat of revealing how many sheets of toilet paper Mr Cameron actually uses so seriously?"
Mr Dark, took in breath, swaggered and answered: "Ah, well you see we here at G4S are not as thick as wot some people make out mush... it's was immediately obvious to me that the bloke saying 'three sheets of toilet paper' meant the anagram of 'Pet sharpshooter elite feet!' see?"
He continued: "It's obvious innit naw I've explained it... he had a pet that he's trained to become an elite sharpshooter, and he's going to shoot Mr Cameron in the foot like!"
"Surely" asked Utterswaithe, "Mr Cameron is already doing that himself on a regular basis?"
Mr Dark: "Well yer... I suppose so, but bein' a professional like, I ain't taking any chances. I've told the lads to be on the lookout fer a dog, cat, or rabbit going around wiv a gun innit!"
Utterswaithe thanked him, and caught the bus to the Nottingham City Police headquarters on Shakespeare Street.
Here he eventually spoke with Detective Chief Inspector Dick Stroker, after being intimately searched, and signing the official secrets list.
"DCI Stroker, have you any suspects yet for who has made this threat to the Prime Minister?"
"Well of course we have, many, but cutting down that list to a level where we can start to process it is the difficult part."
"I see" replied Utterswaithe, "There are a lot of possible perpetrator then?"
DCI Stroker adjusted his ankle bracelet, picked a freesia from the vase on his desk, took a smell of it, smiled, and continued: "Let's look at them, there are 68,047,162 counting estimated illegal immigrants, 66,304.034 estimated, 47,383,464 Registered voters, 10,726,614 voted for the Conservatives."
He scratched his nether-regions, continuing: "We intend to start sifting through the 8,609,527 who voted Labour, the 6,836,824 who voted Lib-Dem, the the other few million who voted for other parties first."
The officer sprayed some lavender oil on his wrists, then added: "Of course the letter being posted in Nottingham is probably not indicative of where the git comes from, he's probably comes from Manchester and got an acquaintance to post it for him... we're not daft!"
Utterswaithe asked him how many officers would be used in the investigation.
The DCI went red in the face, growled, and snapped back: "How many? How many? You'd best ask Cameron himself that question, he's the bastard who's cut the police service personnel! How can I be expected to control the and police the murder centre of the country with less and less men all the time?"
He hit the desk breaking in two pieces...
At this point he opened what was left of the desk drawer, took out a battered framed photo of David Cameron, threw it on the floor, and commenced to jump on it while uttering obscenities in a loud voice...
The door burst open, and in rushed a traffic warden and a Big Issue seller, who dragged the DCI out of the office, shouting for assistance as they did, saying "He's gone again!"
Two burly G4S security officers came in, and escorted Utterswaithe from the building...
He got a train to London to interview MI5 about the threat.
His body was found on Euston Road outside St Pancras station, crushed by a blacked-out windowed Land Rover.