Dave said to put in something about this historic speech he did saying our whole way of life would have to change, before he forgets. Actually it was amazing – I looked round while he was practising and thought God that's so true, soon all this will be totally unrecognisable. It already is, a bit, since I hid everything except the bath under neutral throws from Mummy's. Makes it hard to find things though. Sat on a soft paleish object the other day when we had the Lib Dems in for drinks and it turned out to be Vince Cable, halfway under an ottoman. Said he was just checking the label and had we gone to Ipsa. God knows. Do they do throws?
Next thing he's heading for the bathroom, Simon Hughes has found the swatches and I'm like, help me Dave, but he's with El Cleggo in the bedroom, picking out ties. No sign of La Pasionaria, just in case anyone forgets how hard she works. So I ask Danny Alexander, who's so thrilled to be noticed, if he'd like to see how Nancy's rabbits are loving Sarah Brown's organic vegetable garden. All the radishes have disappeared!
No harm in asking: would he mind being incredibly kind and having them at weekends, obviously I'd make it worth his while? They hardly bite. Run back for cash before he changes his mind. Just wondering if 20 quid is enough – throw in a leather key ring? – when Cable's in my face again, going why not just refresh the grouting? Says it nauseates him when people replace perfectly good bathroom fittings. And – get this – we might not be here for long, anyway. All in that creepy uncle voice. Collapsed in tears afterwards, but Dave was adorable and said fuck the grouting, I'm the prime minister babes you'll get your wet room, just give me time.
But when? We're going backwards. Mrs T visited so it was throws off in case she got offended, even though all she said to me was "Shouldn't you be at school?" Then throws back on again. Must get down to some proper work. It's just so hard to think luxury when you're living in squalor.
As seen by Catherine Bennett
