He wearily dragged himself off the new rocking horse and summoned Albert, his butler, to help him change out of the nappy. After days of little sleep and only free whisky consumed, the terry towelling was barely marked. His normally jet black Grecian hair was verging on white. "Nor grew it white in a single night", the "prisoner" of his own arrogance and delusion looked a broken man. His thoughts were mixed. The scorched earth economic time bomb was set, his expenses torpedo had sunk the tramp steamer that was The EU elections, his Labour Blairite enemies had failed to coax his nemesis back and Peter had again told him of the fondness with which he still remembered their brief office desk coupling.
Yet, he pondered, this was just not enough. He wanted, even craved more bloodletting. Easy enough to destroy disloyal Labour renegades and wield the power of his Office to cow and destroy minor civil servants but the prize of a Tory big beast eluded him. He must have more time to try and achieve this tumescent dream of Cameron failure. Yet if he is forced to go for the good of The Nation, his personal obsession would be denied him. No he must stay, mustn't he? He shuffled out of the bunker study to the resignation room. In the poorly lit doorway he peered at the plain, makeshift studio. A room prepared for him some months earlier should the sound of bombed ideology, the thunderous crash of incompetence and the machine gun fire of utter failure, come right up to the door of number 10.
His minimal grasp of history had replicated his Hero's own bunker studio. Even the Jerry cans were in the corner, the revolver under the table. Strangely this was all set up to remind him to avoid that fate. Now it was a strange sort of comfort. He spoke in a whisper to the butler, "Will people miss me, forgive me? Will my father hold me in high esteem at last?".
"No" replied the man.
He turned away, an ugly, defiant, nasty and unpleasant distortion of his features, attempted a wry smile. As ever it failed, as another angel was made to fall from the sky, victim of his ghastly, gurning grin.