Details of David Cameron's private diary have been leaked by 'someone snooping around his room', barely two days into the new shared living arrangements with Nick Clegg.
'I enjoyed a very strict childhood, so have always made sure that my clothes are tidily folded and that my bed is neatly made before I leave in the morning,' writes Mr Cameron, 'Not so my new roommate. His room is a complete pigsty, and I really can't believe how the toilet can get so grubby, so quickly. What must he be doing in there? It would be nice if he'd at least flush the bloody thing from time to time. I've just spent the last hour in there with my marigolds on making it spotless -- if he throws up all over the floor again tonight I'm going to have to put something really harshly worded on a note on the fridge.'
'And speaking of the fridge, I'm sure sure the level on my carton of milk has gone down,' continues the entry. 'I wrote my name on it especially so that he couldn't get confused between mine and that congealed lump he sniffs each morning before clumping some into his tea -- I'm going to mark the level with an ultraviolet pen. That'll catch him out.'
'I've told him already that the landlord hates us having friends late at night,' complains Mr Cameron further through his diary. 'It disturbs the other residents, and Ken Clarke can be a real shit if he doesn't get a solid 14 hours sleep. No matter how much I tell him, he keeps rolling in at all hours, pissed as a fart with his little gang of friends -- old Vince might look like he's past it, but he can knock back Scotch like it's water. I think that Alexander chappie puts him up to it -- Danny I think he's called? Once they get together there's no peace for anyone, singing drunken songs till all hours.'
'He's only been here two days and has started taking the piss with overnight guests already,' reads another entry. 'He said his old mate Gordon had nowhere to sleep, and that he'd already offered him the sofa so it would look really bad if I didn't say yes. It couldn't have been more of a nightmare. All he does is sit there, babbling about bloody politics, and to make it worse he's got diametrically opposed views to myself and just seems to be a huge bigot. I just found him to be an annoying twat and really can't fathom what Nick sees in him.'
'And I know it's Nick's TV,' says Mr Cameron, 'but I pay the bloody license fee. I should control the remote, not him. I've really had it with him getting Vince round to sort out business issues by watching Working Lunch before they bother waking up properly and eating something disgusting.'
Not everything appears to have gone Nick Clegg's way, however. 'I found some of his left-over pizza in the fridge from last week's election night and put it in the bin,' reads the final entry. 'I couldn't help but chuckle on my way out of the front door as I heard him shout 'The bastard! He's thrown out my breakfast!'.'