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Nothing gets him hornier than when he gets away with something. So I'm not there

From the diary of Carrie Johnson, Britain’s First Lady: 

HE’LL come in angry. Hit the Zinfandel. Mutter to himself. Start laughing. Then, because he’s got away with it again, he gets the raging horn. That’s why I’m on holiday. 

He was in the opposite fucking mood before we left. An apology takes a good run-up for him. If he’s not careful he’ll start lying again mid-way through, or drop in a gag.

It was only me that stopped him using ‘Sir Beer Korma’ in his apology to the House. ‘It’s fucking gold,’ he said. ‘Rishi says it’s Peter Kay standard and he’s from Yorkshire.’

‘Not until PMQs,’ I said. ‘First do contrite, humbled, newly sober. Not after-dinner at the Spectator’s Anti-Semite of the Year awards.’ I’m in PR, for fuck’s sake. I’m a genius at this stuff.

But his mood’ll darken. And he knew he had got to apologise to the staff – we saw the report a week ago – so felt entirely justified treating them like shit until then.

That’s why I’ve brought the kids to the zoo. Well, why be head of comms for the Aspinall Foundation if you can’t stay in an adjoining mansion rent-free once in a while?

It’s a break from Downing Street and the kids like the animals. Wilfred saw a big fat silverback gorilla lying scratching its arse and said ‘Daddy,’ reminding me of the other reason I got out of there.

It’s like clockwork. Escaping unscathed when he’s clearly guilty as fucking sin is his erotic trigger. After he’d got away with Dom Cummings it was so hard you could hang a towel off it.

Romy’s only five months old. I’m not ready to go through that again. It’s a risk leaving him on his own, obviously, but all the spads got fined shitloads so they’re not up for a shag.

Should be all safe by next week. Though when does the privileges committee do their report? He knows they can’t touch him. I’d better book in for then.

Don't have windows: energy-saving tips from a penny-pinching expert

AS I walk through the streets, saving money as ever by paying for neither transport or a gym, I chuckle at the houses wasting energy by having windows. What fools. 

Don’t they know that glass is a very poor insulator and heat’s streaming out of them, even in summer? And they’re giving out light for free while they foot the bill.

That’s why my key tip for anyone worried about energy costs – which I’m not – is to get those windows bricked up. Not just boarded. It gives your house that Ukraine chic and saves you thousands.

Next up? Well, you won’t find me opening doors. Madness! All that lovely warm air wafting away into the atmosphere? I see people doing that and laugh so much I have to steady myself against a wall.

I’ve used a polytunnel – easily stolen from any allotment – to create a 12-meter long crawlspace filled with flytipped duvets. Stifling, and by the time you’re through that body heat will be heating your dark, silent home.

Nor have I used a central heating boiler since August 2014. Without certain people bleating about it, there’s no need. Your own body pumps out 350,000 joules of heat an hour.

Supplement that with nature’s heater – decomposition. It’s well known that rubbish tips give off warmth, so instead of letting the bin men go off with your good rubbish that you’ve collected yourself arrange it in heaps. You’ll be sweltering!

Finally, don’t worry about bills. Even though energy companies still charge standing orders which is nothing but legal robbery, they can’t get into your house if you don’t have a letterbox. Brick the fucker up. Let’s see bailiffs shout through that.

It’s easy to avoid inflated energy costs if you take a few simple, easy steps that frankly you’d be a moron not to. Don’t come crying to me when you’re in debt. I’ve no sympathy whatsoever.

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