In a basement in Downing Street, Dominic Cummings sits at a desk swigging from a bottle of wine and smoking a cigarette. He is on the phone.
"What's that? Shagger lost another vote? Fahkin' hell!
"Sack the lot o' them! Shit, we need to get into election mode and quick.
"Roight! I want Shagger to call Jeremy Corbyn a cahnt on live television. The scum will love it, and he'll win easily.
"His bird, what's 'er face? Carrie Symonds. She's to do a page three, we'll give it the headline General Erection.
"What do you mean they stopped page three? Fahking hell! We'll have to fix that.
"'Ow big are 'er tits anyway? Maybe get 'er a boob job too.
"Don't worry. The Government will pay for it. Hya hya!
"How should I know? I don't give a shit about Brexit. I'm only here for the birds and booze. That's what Shagger told me this job was all about, not fahking parliamentary procedure.
"Yeah, let's take Britain back to the 70s. Lift the smoking ban. Get that sitcom back on telly - you know, the one where the fella has a black chap for a neighbour.
"Yeah, the lot of 'em. Alright, Moggy. Talk to yer later."
