With a cry of "for god's sake!" Martin throws his copy of the Telegraph across the table in disgust.
"What's the matter now dear?" ask his wife with the practised air of sounding like she cares.
"The prime minister has announced plans to outlaw magic in public places because of that bloody McIntosh child's latest outburst!"
"Well he did demolish most of a school dear …"
"Yes I know, but this was meant to be MY idea, MY big plan and now I have got to argue against it"
"You could always agree dear, it is for the good of the country after all."
"Mary my love, we have been over this time and time again. I am the leader of the opposition I can't just go agreeing with the Prime Minister on matters like this. I need to offer an alternative or at the very least just say I wouldn't do it if I was in power. It's how politics works."
"So what are you going to do?"
"God knows." Martin lets out a sigh, pushes his half eaten breakfast to one side, rests his head in his hands and mumbles "come on Marty think think think"
Mary smiles lovingly at the top of her husband's head and starts to clear the table. "You could always blame the bullies dear."
Martin sits bolt upright, a beaming smile plastered across his egg yolk stained face. "The culture of bullying at Ballyforth comp is to blame for this debacle! The very school I went to has descended into gang violence under this shambles of a government. A once proud school, no no. A once proud establishment! Has been reduced to rubble because of one poor boys treatment."
"See dear, I knew you would think of something … you've got egg on your face."
"Well so will the Prime Minster by the time I've finished with him!" Roars Martin, the political fire in his belly now fully stoked.
"No you really have, just there in the corner of your mouth. " Pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of her apron, Mary spits on it and rubs the yolk off her husband's face.
"Right, shit, shower, shave and then I'm calling a press conference … ooh I could do it at the school! Mary, where is my hard hat and hi-vis vest?"
"Under the stairs dear, do you want your wellies as well?"
"Good idea but they are a tad muddy, last time I wore them was the countryside alliance march … I don't suppose you could give them the once over could you?
"Of course I can dear, don't wear a tie they look silly with hi-vis."
Martin kisses his wife on the cheek and dashes upstairs to get ready. Mary smiles and walks over to the cupboard, pulls out a filthy pair of green wellington boots. "Oh this won't do at all!" she says to herself.
Holding the boots at arm's length she whispers "fläckfritt" at them and the grime dissapears.