Morning breaks...
"Sam? Sam? Are you there? I'm going to need you today darlingsweet. No, no strawberries on them this morning, they seem to stop me hearing the snap crackle pop thingy. Look, I'll be absolutely honest with you darl, it's not looking totally on-song.For some reason, everything seems to have got very, very, very sticky. One moment some bloody twitty twat is asking me the price of blooming milk because that ghastly Dorries girl is saying that I'm out of touch. I'm not out of touch, am I darl? You know that. Can you make the bacon crispy sweetheart? Ta very much. Then it's this whole Murdoch thingy which seems to come at me from all directions - one minute it's hacking hacking hacking, the next it's BSkyBBskyBBskyB. To tell the truth I don't know who said what to whom or when. Am I supposed to know? I thought it was my job to come up with some kind of lovely big thing we could all get behind while the money boys made sure that everything was ticketty boo for them in the City. And I did. I gave them the Big Society and whaddyaknow - blink - they're bloody rubbishing me for it. No grilled tomatoes this morning, darl, they're a bit squashy for me on a day like this. And now it's the growth wotsit. I don't know anything about growth or notgrowth or a lot of growth or a bit of growth. What is growth anyway? What is it that's supposed to bloody grow? Daddy worked out some bloody good ways of getting growth with those offshore funds, why can't Britain do that? Why doesn't Britain ship out some funds off to the Caymans or something and bring'em back untaxed. Or something? Darling you're not saying anything. Can't you see that this is a grim old day for your little Davy. This isn't what we had in mind at all, is it? No I don't know what dress you're going to wear for the Jubi-bloody-lee!"
