“Fwa-fwa-fwa-FWAAH! Carrie! CARRIE. Look, how the bloody hell do I get Netflix on this telly? Is it the blue button, or the green one?
“Oh, very funny. I’ve told you, those technology lessons were about emails. They did not cover streaming. The only things flowing were our thoughts, dear heart!
“Well, nil effusis carborundum, and all that. This button, and then that button, and password, password, um… WHAT’S THE BLOODY PASSWORD?
“HOW ARE YOU SPELLING THAT?
“Fwa. Fwa. 5w@. Underscore. FWAH. Right. We’re in. Scrolling, scrolling, ah, one about a Prime Minister! Under pressure from a terrorist who’s kidnapped a princess? Cripes! I bet he’s like Churchill, makes the tough decisions at the crucial times, lauded as a national hero, what, state funeral! Brilliant. Pass the Pringles, Carrie. Oh sorry, you’re not here. Where’s the crisps? Ah…”
“Eh? What? Surely… my GOD. Is this the sort of FILTH people are watching? My, oh, he isn’t, he IS, oh, well now, no, no, no, no, I mean even if Princess Charlotte… I don’t need more nightmares, I have Gove to contend with… off, off foul pig, begone!”
“Right. Well. Let’s pick those crisps up. Now. Christ, not since the Bullingdon have I been subjected to such… uncleanliness. I mean, there’ve been some clangers, I’ll admit it, but an actual pig… my word.
“Ah, a text! Dominic. ARE YOU ILL I HAVE RUN AWAY. Oh dear. DOMINIC U R IN CHARGE. That should fix it. Wait, missed calls? Oh, it’s only one of the children. Don’t know the number.
“Text from Whitty. Delete. Bored of experts. Missed call from Queenie. Whatevs, talk to Charlie. WhatsApp from Hazza, open, ah it’s a gif of someone lighting their farts! Awesome sauce, as all the ladies tell me.
“Oh! Little Dominic. You called rather than texted. Yes, I’m doing well. Slight cough, fever coming down. Get coronavirus done, eh, what? NO YOU CAN’T SIT IN MY F***ING CHAIR I AM CALLING THE BOMB SQUAD RIGHT NOW YOU GORMLESS GOON. Good Lord, I wouldn’t let you fag for me, run the country you must be maaad…”
“What’s this under the door, now? A jigsaw? A jigsaw. I’ve heard about these, Marina said the children, whatever their names were, like doing them. Well now. A thousand pieces! That’ll keep me busy.”
“The Irish border conundrum makes for a s*** jigsaw, I’ll tell you that. Get Brexit Done! BORIS SMASH! Easy peasy, lemon squeazy, get Gove to do the details. There, it’s all in the box so it must be assembled. Bollocks to jigsaws.
“Eh? What? Calm down Carrie, say again old bird? No, no I don’t know any woman called Mild Symptoms. I know she gets about, but it’s a description, Cazza, not a person. Yes, everyone’s had her. Sigh. Yes, she’s a slag. No, I love only you. Think of the little one. No, YOUR little one. Night, night, dear. Lovesy-wovesy-woo.
“Right then. Real Housewives, eh? Fwa-fwa-fwa-FWAH!”
“Yes, Carrie, I am doing the Joe Wicks workout! No, Dominic, I am eating cheese. How is the country? Little Dominic behaving himself? Nurses still fruity, eh what? Yes, I did watch Paw Patrol. Ryder IS just like you, you’re right. OK, OK, I’ll be Marshall. By the way there’s been no red boxes, could you chase them up? Unless everyone’s got covid, now, ha ha.
“Yes, that was the plan, wasn’t it? Not quite working out as you predicted. In that your blond bombshell of a PM has had to retire to his bed, his OWN bed I might add in some dudgeon, and we’re spraying cash like a banker on a bender with a cavalcade of coke and call girls. Dulce et decorum est, Dominic, pro patria bankruptus.
“Anyway, has Mogg got it yet? Eh? The grippe, you say? And he’s being bled, is he? Well, they’d have to find some first. Tell him there’s this documentary on iPlayer, called This Country. It’s a bloody eye-opener, let me tell you, the Cotswolds should have been in lockdown years ago. I want his thoughts on turning the whole AONB into a maximum-security detention facility.”
“Anyway, must go. It’s time for the evening press conference and want to see how badly Little Dominic handles the pressure. Bloody BBC, wish I had my laptop to watch it on, hope Carrie hasn’t snaffled it again. Really must get MI5 onto that…
“What? WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS? GOVE is doing the presser? That conniving little git! I told them to put Little Dominic in charge because he’d say something like he didn’t realise how much the NHS relied on nurses, and they’d welcome old Bozza back like a post-coital Caesar!
“CARRIE! DOMINIC! LITTLE DOMINIC, ANYONE! LET ME OUT, I’m BETTER I TELL YOU, ANYONE BUT GOOOOOOOOVE…”
*the sound of banging, as the camera slowly pans away from the locked door, to a pregnant blonde looking victorious as she puts a key in her pocket and walks away down the corridors of power…*