“I love the Greens more than life itself. Caroline is my rock. Without her, I just can’t go on. Only this morning we went out on a run together along the Downs together. Out, out, in the mighty embrace of nature, our hair gently flecking with sweat, before heading back to feed some orphaned badgers and share a hearty Fairtrade granola breakfast. So I put the question to the right honourable gentleman: why is he so frightened of debating with the Green party?”
Miliband could not believe his luck. This was one PMQs he just could not lose. He had never said he would not debate with the Greens: only that he would debate with anyone whom Ofcom decided should be there. This wasn’t nearly good enough for Cameron. “How do I love thee, Caroline?” he said, his voice quivering with the most noblest of passion. “Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth of your cavity wall insulation to the height of your wind turbine.” Lucas smouldered. The unrequited desire she had long held for the prime minister had finally been reciprocated.
“Thank you, thank you Dave,” she trembled, coyly blowing him a kiss while the Tory backbenchers half-heartedly cheered in an effort to make this union seem something other than the product of a fevered and desperate imagination.