Monday
Rejoice! Rejoice! That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. I don’t want to gloat, I don’t want to make any obvious points like ‘Gordon, you’re so screwed,’ because that would be in poor taste. V moving moment when Dave came into the office this morning and we all chanted ‘Da-vid Da-vid!’ and made whooping noises. Mr Maude went nuts trying to shut everyone up: ‘We mustn’t be seen holding a baby shower this close to polling day!’ I think Tom had only shouted out ‘We’re alright!’ in a Welsh drawl as a sort of joke. But it wasn’t funny because it gave Mr Maude breathing difficulties. So we all agreed to not mention the happy news in public again. Much. Dave v focused and serious. ‘Tamara [it’s his special name for me], get me the list of difficult policy pledges we need to, er, do something about.’ Can’t think why he needs those.
Tuesday
Mr Pickles in a terrible state.
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