A nation’s joy vanished today, as it emerged that it was Labour’s Tristram Hunt who had quit Westminster, not his namesake, the scourge of the NHS, Jeremy.
Up and down the country, shoppers and shopkeepers alike were wreathed in smiles and total strangers greeted one another like long-lost friends, then the gloom descended like a blanket.
“Do you remember watching Felipe Massa’s dad when he thought his son had won the title in 2008, but then found it had gone to Lewis Hamilton?” asked one villager in Harold today. “It was like that, only ten times worse.”
For a brief time this morning, doctors and nurses gleefully danced through their hospitals, in a spontaneous recreation of the 2012 Olympic ceremony.
“It’s awful.” said one Junior Doctor, Hannah “Like the massive comedown you get after a particularly strong dose of dancing powder, so I’m told.”
“Whichever way you look at it we’ve lost the wrong Hunt. Not the right Hunt.