My housemate Sophie hosted a comedy debate this evening entitled “Should We (hypothetically) Kill the P.M.?”.
It was fantastic. There were chocolates thrown at the crowd, a trombone in the peanut gallery, very well-used infographics and a visit from The Dark Lord.
The side arguing against death ended with a closing statement somewhere along the lines of “If we kill him, he won’t learn anything. So, let’s just send him to a refugee camp.”
The side arguing for death had a closing statement closer to a manifesto that was more like “Not only should we kill the P.M., we should just overthrow the entire government, live in chaos for a little while, and then when we get ourselves sorted out, maybe we’ll appreciate it more.”
As with most comedy, summaries don’t even pretend to do the night justice. It was delightful and hilarious.
After it was over, I went back to the cafe were I used to work. My friends on the staff were throwing an after-hours party (the certain chef I take umbridge with was not present.) complete with a movie projector.
We ate some of the most incredible Tandoori chicken I’ve ever had, made some proper chai (where spices are slow cooked in milk for hours) and it was so fantastically good.
We pulled all of the blankets out of the apartment on top of the restaurant and watched movies until we all fell asleep.
I have the best friends.