'So what about the Budget then, eh? Terrible wasn't it?'
The Budget. Ugh, noise. Outside noise of a world carrying on without me.
'But you wouldn't want to be Chancellor, would you? No. You wouldn't want to be Chancellor.'
'Can you imagine? Cutting all those NHS budgets. You wouldn't dare fall ill, would you?
No, come on, come on.
'... well I'm sorry, Chancellor, all these NHS cuts, you know? I can't afford to give you anything for constipation. You'll have to stay full of crap.'
In the TV room the telly's broadcasting to an audience of empty chairs ... I've got this far, I might as well sit and watch for a bit ....
'So what's the answer, eh? You're so good at budgets, I suggest you go back to number 11 and work it out with a pencil. Yes?'
There is loud laughter now, and I wince at the noise. They turn it up higher and higher these days.
That'll help him budge it, won't it, eh?'