A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A PA IN THE CONSERVATIVE PARTY

Well, I was working as PA for Camerons office when I heard he was late for a very important meeting. He was due to attempt to steamroller through a bill that would completely crush trade unionism in the UK by outlawing the unions themselves. Everyone was there and waiting for him to sign it, they couldn't WAIT to see yet more power taken OUT of the hands of the common (idiotic) men and women of the UK.

It turns out David (or Dave-O as his friends, such as myself, are permitted to call him) had snapped his pen whilst signing autographs for a bunch of 6 year old kids at Great Ormond Street hospital that very morning and who was to get the task of speedily getting a new pen to him ? Yep, you guessed it, muggins here ! Well, I say muggins, but it's always a joy to serve the glorious leader and I must admit I am somewhat disgusted at myself for insintuating otherwise.

So, as quickly as I could I boarded his private plane at heathrow - bound for London city airport. The pilot said there wasn't enough fuel being wasted to 'tally things up right' in his logbook but he finally agreed to fly if I promised to open all the petrol caps and let fuel just piss out into the atmosphere as we flew. It was some ride, I tell you ! I even held a lighter to the trails at one point (out of the window) and we burned "FUCK OFF PLEBS, TONIGHT WE SHALL DINE ON SUCH FINE FAYRES THAT ONE SUCH MEAL WILL COST MORE THAN YOUR ENTIRE EXISTENCE!" into the sky over Bermondsey.

Anyways, after we had written more socially inappropriate/monetarily based abuse over several more of Londons less desirable boroughs, we began our descent into London city. Who did we see on the runway ? Yes, you guessed it, it was Dave-O (or D-Cam as he's known to super close personal friends such as myself) running alongside us as we drew closer to the ground. He was marvellous, the plane must have still been doing well in excess of 100 miles an hour but he wasn't even breaking a sweat. It didn't even look like he was running, it was more like a graceful glide. There were lights coming off him, too, as if he was god.

Quick as a flash I threw the window open and leaned out as far as I could, parker papermate pen in my outstretched hand. Then there were the noises of celestial trumpets and a load of cherubs flew in behind the majestic figure of D-Cam in full glide and began to lift him. He fixed me with a look and all of a sudden I knew everything was going to be alright, as he softly yet VERY confidently took the pen from my fingertips I felt for a brief, fleeting moment what it must be like to be him. His thoughts transfused into me, everything was chaos but above it all was his iron fist of reason - smashing down again and again with damning rationality. Just as the abyss of absolute reason and sense began to yawn open before me the pen was out of my hand and I was back, leaning out of the plane window. We'd touched down hours ago, and the treaty had been signed DAYS ago. D-Cam had been in possession of such blindingly omnipotent foresight that his past self deemed his future selfs efforts to be an unneccesary waste of energy. In the end it turns out he'd then wound up taking TWO pens instead of ONE to the hospital, thus enabling him to go on to his signing of the 'FUCK THE POPULACE' decree AND sign a LOT more autographs for sick children, thereby bringing a ray of light into their lives that will forever enrobe them in a blue rainbow of anti-disease saintlyhood for ever and ever.