I just came across this window into the domestic life of the Osborne's and Cameron's in today's Telegraph. It's so removed from almost anyone's normal life - can we really hope they will ever understand? I despair...
Custard from a dainty cup
Middle-aged men everywhere will have sympathised with David Cameron when his tummy popped out at that formal dinner. It’s a hazard we all face, thanks to the tyranny of the “fitted” shirt. Indeed, my Downing Street source tells me this isn’t the first time the PM has had this problem.
“The Osbornes invited the Camerons round for a neighbourly cuppa,” she says. Did Dave have tea or coffee? “Actually, Madagascan vanilla custard, piping hot in a dainty Dresden cup. But as he sat down on the Chancellor’s sofa, there was this pinging sound from his midriff, and the poor man was so embarrassed that he spilt a dollop on the Osborne and Little cushion.”
Oh no! “Fortunately, Mrs Cameron had some Smythson handywipes, and after a good rub the stain came off.” Problem solved? “Not quite. All that rubbing made the cushion awfully flat…” Yikes. I can guess the rest. Exit Dave and Sam, to the sound of furious plumping.
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