Boris Johnson needed to distract the press and the general public from his latest misdemenour. He roped me in to help him.

We met in an old barn full of discarded furniture. From here we took a set of connected Victorian school seats and desks and carried them across the field to a deserted farm house. Now we at least had somewhere to sit and eat in our temporary ‘love nest’.

In an attempt to get to know my ‘lover’ I asked him about his five children. He denied all knowledge of them. ‘I am not a father’, he insisted.

Sure enough, his distraction plan worked. The press soon found us, and not long afterwards the whole country was agog at the news of Boris’ latest ‘conquest’.