I assume we only ever get to talk to the monkey?
I understand that seven Peers are now running Jimmy's cabinet of apparatchiks. He is felching and tea making. Fondlebum has decided his passion for male sexual appendages makes Blinky his preferred pet. Our disgraced joke of a Lord really believes he is impregnable. Euro asap, secret Iraq enquiry, his choice of speaker. On and on in a grotesque organ grinding cacophony as the monkey becomes ever more excited but panic struck. You can see above the tolerant expression of Lord Mincy as his exhausted monkey waits for the grinder to start the music again, fearful that the next tune may be for a dance of death!
So, election any time now, as soon as Jimmy's vote rigging squad satisfy Mandy they can't lose. Mcbride is back with his tomes of nastiness primed to pass on to The Barclay brothers, pollsters set to make a joke of the real ballot just a week or so ago. Yup, screw democracy, wind up the organ and give the monkey a sharp prod. All together now, let us bugger democracy, I'm Lord Mandy, me!