Cripes!

"HOORAH! It's the Bank Holiday Weekend! Yippee!", shouted young Boris, leaping out of bed and flinging back the curtains. "Let's go punting on the river - then we can have a slap-up lunch - caviar, oysters and lashings and lashings of lovely champers. I'm ravenous already!"
"Boris, Boris, calm down ... you can't go out to play. You won the election, remember? You've got to go into the office and run London, you silly billy!"
"Crikey, I forgot!", exclaimed Boris. "Bugger. Afternoon tea, then?"

Some hours later, after a leisurely breakfast of kedgeree and kippers, young Boris sits behind his new desk in City Hall. Outside on the streets, a troupe of happy young chimney-sweeps dance and sing, cheered on by Pearly Kings and Queens.
Heaped on the desk in front of Boris is a mountain of files - Anti-Terrorism, Housing, London Transport, Congestion Charging, Youth Crime Statistics, Olympics 2012, Ethnic Minorities, Failing Schools ...
"Gosh, this is a bally mess. What is a man to do? Ah ha, brainwave! I know, I will call my chum Red Ken - he'll know what to do. Good thinking Boris old boy, we can get this lot sorted out and we'll still have time for a decent supper ..."
London, May 2008