Terrific start to the day, as I invite Prue Leith, the wrinkly chef from Bake-Off, for breakfast. I was hoping to get a few tips about cooking my supply of free sausage and mash dinners from Iceland, but instead she warbles on and on about hospital meals and how they should be more appealing to the sick.
Later we go along for a photo-op at a hospital where I serve some appalling, smelly, decaying patient a plate of what passes for luncheon in the NHS. Prue seems to think she’s made her point, but as I explain to her later over a glass of Pouilly Fuisse and a plate of steak and kidney pud, if you give sick people nice food they have no incentive to get better.
Carrie tells me the whole of the Amazon jungle is on fire, poor little Indians running around with burned feet, and marmosets roasting in their trees, etc. I make soothing nonsense noises to the camera but unfortunately my trade minister Conor Burns is on site in Brazil and greasing up to Jar Balsawood, their current Fuhrer. It seems Jar, whom I originally took to be a Star Wars character, and not in a good way, has been encouraging everybody to burn as many trees as possible and blame Oxfam.
“We look forward to a long and happy blah-di-blah” says Conor. “Send us all your wood! Send us your charcoal! Send us your beef and bananas! We’ll buy the lot.” Carrie gives me a filthy look.
Fortunately the G7 is coming up, where my glory can radiate upon the global stage. Cometh the hour, cometh the man! Or something like that.
Pyramid of Piffle 