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The metaphor I’m using is that Boris bet David that David didn’t have the guts to shit in the bed. David shat the bed, and then left. Now the other Tories have to either a) climb into a shat bed, which is… unappealing or b) change the sheets and climb in, which will let everybody know that they’re not really cool kids.

I should be on Newsnight.

“Will you climb into a bed that’s been shat in, or will you change the sheets?”

“That’s a very complex question, Jeremy, and I think you’ll find the answer I’m going to give at my press conference tomorrow very–”

“I don’t want to wait for your press conference, and neither does the public. Simple question, yes or no: will you climb into a shat bed?”

“I think the British public is fed up of beds, so–”

“Yes or no, minister?”

“It’s a–”

“There’s the bed that Mr Cameron left for you. It’s full of shit. Will you, yes or no, climb in and pull the covers up to your chin?”

“Enough of this.”

“I’d like to state for the record that the minister has stood up to leave but has failed to unclip his microphone and is now unsuccessfully attempting to untangle himself. It’s like watching a dog running in circles with its lead tied to a tree. Sooner or later he’s going to– Yes, I’d like to state for the record that the minister has fallen over.”

“This is harder than drinking water.”