it really had been a cauldron today. His brief flirtation with PMQs was well and truly stuffed. He stormed from the chamber inwardly cringing at how he had used Wee Dougie to hide his fear of that Toff creature. He raced clumsily to the Limo and was swept regally but irreverently across the square. The staffers had watched the midday half hour wind on and were afraid, very afraid. He burst into the building and immediately espied a pretty and slight young security guard at her portal desk. With one rapid bound he grasped her by the tunic collar, heaved her from her booth and threw her with the force only the possessed can, across the hallway. Feeling a little better, he bellowed for his Butler. This amazing man appeared immediately. A bundle of terry towelling cloths were under his arm and the huge bunker door key in his hand. He raced after his master, down a long corridor and then down an endless staircase into the bowels of the building which were now his master's lair.
The now heavily breathing, clumsy, crimson but immaculately suited figure, was propped against a wall. The Butler, with trembling hand, operated the key. He was pushed forward with a violent blow from behind. As he staggered into the bunker the door slammed behind him. The room was lit only by a dim emergency, eerie glow. The apparition was already virtually undressed. "Sod, Dobbin", said the deranged and unrecognisable, naked man. "You will have to do, I've no time for saddling up, bend over", he ordered. A few short seconds later there was a banshee, blood curdling scream. It was followed by a less audible cry of agony and pain. The latter from a citizen of The United Kingdom.