Gosh! Crikey! Bloody hell! Here we are.
Parls today a total shambles, lot of insolent questions from the Celtic fringe, no time for pre-prandials or post-prandials for that matter.
Carrie wants the key to the back door but the spooks say it’s out of the question. Who are they working for anyway? Also, have to have a word with Marina about bringing the kids round in the middle of Cabinet.
I am determined to govern for the whole country, or at least, the country around Uxbridge, which is very fine country indeed once you get out on the M40 and away from the mud huts. Otherwise, as the poet said, “Shitamus per ardua in shitholes” by which motto I have always been guided.
Drinkies with the staff, v. friendly except when Dominic bit the housekeeper after she offered him a shortbread biccy. Apparently mistook her for Nicky Morgan.
Bit of a TFB, Dom, come to think of it. Gove’s letter of recommendation was very strong, though. Must be good for something, apart from biting one’s ministers.
Pyramid of Piffle 