Boris Johnson clattered through the hefty wooden doors.
"The plan's all here, folks!"
He plunged deep into his cavernous pockets and tugged on some notes.
They fluttered from his greasy fingers and scattered across the podium.
He cursed at his appendages and shuffled the notes back together.
Began to ramble incoherently through the jumble of pages.
Saturday was curry night!
He did one of his favourite impressions while delivering that news.
People were allowed to order pizza on Tuesdays.
Restaurants then had to close to disinfect the pizza boxes and hang them out to dry and things like that.
McDonald's could keep drive-throughs open, but only with permission to serve people weighing over fourteen stone who were riding bicycles.
Haircuts were being rationed to fifty strands a day.
And finally, of course, the schools were back.
Children would be sealed in unless they all promised to hold their breath.
For homework they'd be given three coronavirus test kits to complete every evening.
Boris threw his notes on the floor and barrelled out of the building.