About last night… at Tory party conference
From our UK edition
As seen in the Daily Telegraph I awake with a start and a splitting headache. Where am I? Slowly, the moving shapes take on settled form. I am sprawled on the floor of a double room in a Birmingham Travelodge. The lights are on, the curtain is drawn. There is the smell of Smirnoff Ice and stale poppers in the air. I try to rise, but when I put weight on my hand I wince with pain. Holding my palm up in front of me, I see it’s streaked with gore. Stumbling to my feet, I trip over the sleeping shadow minister for ‘UK Security’. Someone – or something – shifts in the bed. ‘Kemi… dome…’ it moans. I stagger to the bathroom just in time to retch.