The following manuscript has just been discovered at 11 Downing Street:
This morning, my wife SamCam came to tell me that there was a leak in the ceiling, and that it was coming from the bathroom.
She was quite hysterical - typical woman, eh! (Note to self: Check if I'm allowed to say this in public). She said that if I didn't do something soon, the ceiling would collapse and we'd be flooded.
I explained, calmly and clearly, that I had taken on board what she was saying, and that I take it very seriously, but that I was engaged on filling in a crack which had appeared on the bottom of the dining room door. SamCam had the nerve to say that the leak in the bathroom was more important! I reminded her again, with my most serious face on, that I was fully cognisant of the situation, but that I had to finish the important job I was engaged in.
Her shouting must have woken the neighbours, because several of them came to find out what was going on. I explained the situation, and they weighed in with their comments.
Mr Miliband said that it was all a terrible disaster and something needed doing. I asked what, and he said it was awful that I hadn't done anything about it, and that he would do something. I again asked what, and he said that he would do things differently...
His friend Mr Balls then said that his great plan was to mend the tap in the kitchen, which dripped slightly. SamCam asked what difference that would make to the leak in the bathroom, at which point Mr Balls got very cross and walked off.
My friend Nick was next. 'I'm committed to working with Dave on this,' he announced. 'What will you do?' I asked. 'I'll turn the water on even more and smash a hole in the ceiling so that the place is wrecked. But I'm committed to working with you, Dave.'
Mr Johnson arrived, wearing a t-shirt saying 'I sponsor the CSA.' 'I say!' he said. 'What a bally hoo-ha! Now then - any totty here?' 'Do you want my advice?' asked SamCam. 'I say!' he said. 'I've never heard it called that before!'
At that point there was a great commotion, and my new neighbour, Mr Farage, arrived, followed by great cheering crowds. 'Right!' he announced. 'Let's sort this mess out!' The crowd cheered again. 'What do you suggest?' I asked. 'Move!' he said. 'Move! Get out! Do it now!' The crowd again roared their approval. Then SamCam said to me that I had promised to ask her about moving some years ago, but I hadn't done anything about it. I was standing no nonsense on this one! 'Let me make it perfectly plain,' I said. 'I have made a firm commitment to think about pondering the notion of the idea of the possibility of perhaps one day maybe asking about the outline of the ghost of the thought about moving. Now that's definite!' It was followed by total silence.
'Move now!' yelled Mr Farage to huge cheers. 'If you don't move immediately the whole ceiling will...'
[At this point the manuscript becomes unreadable - it looks as if a huge amount of water has been poured over it...]