Behold, tertiary-stage midlife-crisis sufferer Lembit Opik, whose behaviour seems increasingly out of place anywhere except a teaching hospital.
The Right Honourable Member for Montgomeryshire spent the evening before Wednesday's historic 42 days vote the best way he knows how: dry-humping his Cheeky Girl fiancee for the benefit of London's clubland photographers. (If you don't know the result from Westminster, look away now. I'm afraid the nutjobs stole it. But you know what? If being on Lembit's side means losing, then I don't want to win any more
As indicated by Gabriela's outfit choice, the pair were at their engagement party, and posed for so many photos feeding cake to each other - often mouth-to-mouth - that were you to make them into a flickbook, you would have specialist pornography so deadly it would probably count as defence hardware.
But it was up to Old Ma Cheeky - who surely will not let them live under one roof when they marry? - to gloss the moment her daughter's toast glass champagne fizzed up and overflowed. "Where we are from," she said, in reference to the House of Cheeky's Transylvanian roots, "when that happens at an engagement party it means a baby is on the way."
Why does everything come back to the Book of Revelation? Who knows, but I think we can agree that this week marked the point at which Lembit stopped just talking about an apocalyptic asteroid impact, and began actively courting one.
