During a school visit, David Cameron becomes utterly beguiled by a slender fifteen year old student. She is the cosmos, he thinks to himself, staring at her young frame with the fearful eyes of a drug addict. She is the wind, he thinks, she is the stars, she is the water. During a question and answer session, David Cameron is so preoccupied with imagining her in various nude positions that, when a journalist requests more information about changes to the way OFSTED inspections are conducted, David Cameron is only able to stare absently at the camera and say, in an unusually high pitched voice, She is the zenith, she is the epitaph, she is the omega. 

David Cameron eats a sixteen inch pizza. Subsequently, at a UN dinner, he leans towards a French delegate and says, his mouth full of lobster, I had a sixteen inch pizza before this.

David Cameron is sat quietly in a pub, nursing a pint, thinking about politics. He sips the pint. He looks at his Blackberry; no messages. A small man, very small, under four feet, approaches him, a grin on his face. The small man stands on tiptoes and gets his face as close to David Cameron’s as he can manage, the table still between them. The small man stays there grinning for a period which, though brief, feels very long to David Cameron. The small man speaks, Excuse me, he says, Are you David Cameron? David Cameron looks down at his Blackberry; no messages. David Cameron looks up at the rustic beams that make up the pub’s ceiling. He looks at the clientele of the pub. He looks at his own hands. He thinks about politics for a very short burst. He looks out of the window, at England. No, he replies, not meeting the short man’s gaze but shaking his head wistfully at his Blackberry.

David Cameron is in his office when a call comes through from a civil servant. The call is of an urgent nature, some figures from the MOD have been leaked to the press, indicating much lower spending than had previously been announced. The civil servant is in the middle of explaining this when David Cameron interrupts him by saying, Excuse me, but by any chance are you black?

Late one evening, David Cameron is watching television when a recording of a speech he made earlier in the week comes on. Using his remote control, David Cameron turns up the colour and the contrast on his television. His image onscreen begins to resemble a cartoon character. David Cameron has another tequila. David Cameron slams the tequila so hard towards his gob that the glass goes down his throat along with the liquid. David Cameron gets up from his chair and begins coughing. Smoke comes out of his nostrils and his hair starts growing incredibly fast. Soon the hair reaches his feet and piles up around him. The smoke collects in the room, making the atmosphere thick. On the television, David Cameron’s cartoon self continues to deliver a speech about the Euro. 

One night, unable to sleep, thinking about politics, David Cameron turns to his dormant wife and wheedles into her ear, Honey, shall we have sseeeeexx? She makes no movement. David Cameron shakes her shoulder and, though he has no erection to speak of, wheedles once more, Shall we have sseeeeexx? This time she roughly moves further from him, making an irritated noise, but saying nothing. David Cameron turns away and thinks about politics again for a long time, before rolling once more towards his wife and wheedling, But honey, I really want to have sseeeeexx.

On a farm visit, David Cameron decides to play a joke on the other cultural attachés who accompany him. He heads to the pigsty, having decided to wear a live pig as a costume. David Cameron picks up a pig by the neck and puts his full foot through the pig’s stomach, followed by the other foot. David Cameron then puts his arms through the pig’s shoulders, and out past its forelegs. Finally, David Cameron pushes his entire head through the pig’s back and then out of the top of the pig’s neck, so that the pig’s head hangs just below his own. David Cameron bursts out of the sty towards the attachés. I’m John Lennon! he yells, though it can barely be heard above the insouciant squealing of the wounded pig. 

One balmy evening, David Cameron’s anus begins to distend and grow. Over several uncomfortable years, the anus’ diameter increases to that of a large meteor crater. It is at this point that David Cameron resigns as Prime Minister. Later, the anus’ diameter eclipses that of the earth. Later still, the anus grows so large that its gravitational pull begins to exert itself on nearby planets, sucking them in. Decades later, having consumed the entire universe, David Cameron is left alone in an entirely black, lifeless void, his anus finally having shrunk back to its normal size. 

At a party, an admirer of David Cameron’s sidles up. He has a question for David Cameron. It is: David, have you ever considered publishing a compendium of your speeches? You could do it in multiple volumes, like Stalin. David Cameron pauses, smiling at the man. I have considered that, he answers. In fact I’ve given it a great deal of thought. But I wouldn’t want to do it straight. Tell me, he continues, do you think that one could publish a compendium of one’s speeches in multiple volumes, ironically?

David Cameron wakes up one morning and resolves to only use the phrase, ‘Thank you, Andrew Lansley,’ for the entirety of the day.