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Well, it’s the morning after the night before and Dan and his mates have had a pretty wild time. You’ve just got home to the house you share with them all. And what do you find? (thread)
Nigel Lawson is sitting on the washing machine in the kitchen with his head in his hands. You pick your way through broken glass. He's been sick in the sink.
"It’s a complete mess,” Lawson groans. “It’s a disaster.”
You look around. Your house a vista of smashed crockery and empty cans of Spitfire bitter.
“Can you help clean up?” you ask. “The place is a wreck.”
“Really sorry,” says Nigel. "Gotta get home. I’m on the Eurostar at 11.”
You look around. Your house a vista of smashed crockery and empty cans of Spitfire bitter.
“Can you help clean up?” you ask. “The place is a wreck.”
“Really sorry,” says Nigel. "Gotta get home. I’m on the Eurostar at 11.”
You push open the lounge door. Passed out on the sofa is @mattwridley, Vice-Chair of Vote Leave & Chair of Northern Rock when it collapsed. Open on the floor next to him is your laptop. He’s logged into your Bet365 account and placed £3000 on Newcastle to win the Premier League.
You look out the back window.
“Where the fuck is the shed?” you say.
“It was Nick Timothy,” says Ridley. “He tried to fix the canister from the gas heater to the lawnmower and make it fly. At about 3am there was an explosion and the shed was just gone." He's pauses. "Nick too.”
“Where the fuck is the shed?” you say.
“It was Nick Timothy,” says Ridley. “He tried to fix the canister from the gas heater to the lawnmower and make it fly. At about 3am there was an explosion and the shed was just gone." He's pauses. "Nick too.”
You walk up the stairs and bump into @EstherMcVey1.
“What the hell were you lot thinking last night?” you say. “The place is destroyed.”
Esther pushes past you. “I wasn’t here," she mumbles.
It is a bare-faced lie.
“What the hell were you lot thinking last night?” you say. “The place is destroyed.”
Esther pushes past you. “I wasn’t here," she mumbles.
It is a bare-faced lie.
You push open the door to your bedroom…
@DanielJHannan is face down on the floor. Something smells. It’s urine. Warily you lay a hand on a pillow “Dan,” you say, horrified, “did... did you piss on my pillows?” Dan groans, “I reject the regulatory burden you impose on me that prohibits me pissing on your pillows.”
You utter arsehole,” you say. “The house is a total wreck. We need to start cleaning up.”
“Okay okay,” says Dan.
He gets to his feet and disappears downstairs. A minute later you follow him down. The front door is open.
The house is empty.
“Okay okay,” says Dan.
He gets to his feet and disappears downstairs. A minute later you follow him down. The front door is open.
The house is empty.
