sea_gale: (Default)
Brown made and Nick and I follow him. He kept shouting at us angrily.

“You ludacris fools!” he shouted.

I got an expression of grave concern on my ruddy face. Nick comforted me. When we went back to the castle Brown took us to Peter Mandelson and Alistair Darling who were both looking very angry.

“They were having a summit meeting in the Cabinet Room!” he yelled in a furious voice.

“Why did you do such a thing, you mediocre dunces?” asked Darling.

“How dare you?” demanded Mandelson.


Everyone was quiet. Brown and Darling still looked mad but Mandelson said. “Fine. Very well. You may go to your second homes.”

Nick and I went outside while the Labour ministers glared at us.

“Are you okay, Dave?” Nick asked me gently.

“Yeah I guess.” I lied. I went to my bedroom and brushed my teeth and my hair and changed into silk navy blue pajamas and slippers. When I came out….

Nick was standing in front of the bathroom, and he started to recite ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling. I was so flattered, even though he wasn’t supposed to be there (Samantha was glaring at him suspiciously). We shook hands and patted each other’s backs. After that, we said goodnight and he reluctantly went back to his house.
sea_gale: (Default)
Chapter Two

The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I put on my slippers and drank some champagne from a bottle I had. My bed was antique mahogany and was made up with high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. I got out of my bed and took of my salmon pyjamas. Instead, I put on a dark navy suit, a white shirt with silver etched cufflinks, bespoke loafers and navy socks on. I put on a symbolic purple tie, and combed my hair into a sort of messy bouffant.

My wife, Samantha woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her carefully coiffed raven black hair and patted her discreet baby bump. She put on her ostentatiously unpretentious Marks and Spencer dress, opaque black tights and sensible shoes. We put on our makeup (foundation, powder and Touche Eclat).

“OMFG, I saw you talking to Nick Clegg yesterday!” she said excitedly.

“Yeah? So?” I said, blushing.

“Do you like Nick?” she asked as we went out of our bedroom and into the kitchen.

“No I so fucking don’t!” I shouted.

“Yeah right!” she exclaimed. Just then, Nick walked up to me.

“Hi.” he said.

“Hi.” I replied flirtily.

“Guess what.” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“Well, Labour have lost 91 seats, which is not as bad as they had perhaps feared. The Lib Dems have lost 9 seats, which is a disappointment. The Conservatives won 306 seats, short of the 316 they need to form an outright majority.” he told me.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I screamed. I love the first-past-the-post electoral method.

“Well…. do you want to form a coalition with me?” he asked.

I gasped.
sea_gale: (amusing)
[A quick explanation for the blissfully ignorant: My Immortal is one of the worst fanfics of all time. I wrote this reworking a few weeks ago, but decided to wait until it wasn't that funny any more to post this (actually I just forgot...)] Without further ado:

Chapter One

Hi my name is David William Donald Cameron and I have short receding dark brown hair and blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Geoffrey Howe. I’m not related to Cameron Diaz but I wish I were as she’s a major fucking hottie. I’m British but my teeth are straight and white. I have ruddy pink skin. I’m also a member of Parliament, and I go to the House of Commons, which is the lower house of the bicameral Parliament of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, where I’m in the shadow cabinet. I’m 43 years old. I’m a Tory (in case you couldn’t tell) and wear mostly blue. I love Saville Row and buy most of my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a single breasted dark navy suit from Huntsman, a crisp white shirt with gold cufflinks, a cerulean blue silk tie, charcoal angora socks and black bespoke leather shoes. I was wearing foundation, Touche Eclat under my eyes and translucent powder. I was walking outside the palace of Westminster. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Labour MPs stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Dave!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Nick Clegg!

“What’s up Nick?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

To be continued


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