Dressed in his all-yellow Lycra athletic gear Mr. Angry energised his followers at the bank holiday meeting of his supporters. The rafters of the Moaning Cow public house were heaving as the applause rang out.
“I, Mr Adonis, ‘the body’, Hercules Angry am devoting my life to the service of the Prime Minister, Barak Miliband. I will use my physical prowess…”
“Is Cameron supporting the ‘squeezed middle’” yelled the man at the fruit machine.
“A man can be judged by his appearance” preached Mr. Angry.
“Is Cameron’s weight adjusted for inflation?” yelled a heckler in the third row.
“I, Mr. super slim Angry will set new standards…”
“Is Cameron’s gross domestic product increasing?” shouted a woman sitting by Mrs. Angry?”
“I really must ask that we show more understanding. Being Prime Minister puts pressure on a man” reasoned Mr. Angry.
“You mean he’s weighed down by cream eclairs of state?” suggested another lady.
“I have spoken to the Prime Minister this morning. He accepts he’s achieved the wrong kind of growth. He’s working on an austerity package.”
“He’s cutting down to five meals a day” shouted another watcher.
“Mr. Angry” shouted Rita the bar maid. “Downing Street have phoned. They think your suggestion that you should be Minister without portfolio is in poor taste…Mr. Angry.”