Competition No 3615
We want a suspenseful thriller (or steamy romance) in which there are at least five pieces of boring information. [NB – the five items are all taken from the New Statesman.]
The small man sat inconspicuously in the public gallery of the Commons. Below, speaking, was Clive Soley, who, Paul Routledge claims, may soon be challenged as PLP chairman. From his pocket he took what looked like a large, ornate fountain-pen, but actually was a deadly laser gun. The Jackal – for it was he – consulted his watch. Four minutes! He gazed nervously around, seeing in the press gallery Jon Sopel, listed by Charlie Whelan at 10-1 for BBC political editor. A security guard stared at him for what seemed an eternity, then turned away. Blair was replying to Michael Ancram who, Simon Heffer believes, lacks the coolness and intellect to be party chairman. Twenty seconds to go … fifteen … ten. The doors at the back of the gallery opened. Two SAS men closed on the Jackal, but as they reached him Blair’s head exploded; blood and brains cascaded, covering Gordon Brown, who according to Steve Richards does not believe that recent weeks have seen a substantial mood change in favour of higher taxation. His lifeless corpse slumped along the front bench, falling across Mo Mowlam, who, Richards reports, would have much preferred the Department of Health.