WEIRD Labour Guru Peter "Mandy" Mandelson, has sensationally revealed that former Prime Minister Gordon Brown ate an actual kitten whilst high on rage drug cannabis.
The lurid claim is published in Mandelson's new memoir entitled The Third Man which is serialised this week in The Times.
In it, Mandelson claims that the kitten incident took place behind the scenes at the 2009 Downing Street Christmas party when Brown's ratings were at an all-time low.
Everyone had been having a lovely time, croons Mandelson in an extract from his book.
Everyone had been having a lovely time, croons Mandelson in an extract from his book.
Hattie had organised a clown, the Miliband's were playing charades in the corner and Tony had even dropped in with Cherie and was getting tipsy on the punch with Jack Straw.
It was as though the past couple of years had never happened and everyone was really taking the opportunity to relax and let their hair down.
I nipped through the back to add the finishing touches to my famous prawn Vol-au-vents - I hadn't told anyone as I had wanted them to be a surprise - whilst Misty, the new Number 10 kitten, wrapped herself around my feet no doubt drawn by the smell of wild fresh atlantic prawn and homemade thousand island.
Right at that moment I sensed that I was being looked at from behind (yes it still happens - although not usually In No 10), and spun round to see Gordon, brooding and with a face like thunder.
A joint hung lazily from the corner of his mouth and he whispered to me slowly and quietly: "How come I'm the only one in fancy dress Pete?"
I cursed myself. I really had meant to tell him we'd cancelled the Pimps 'n Ho's theme but it must have slipped my mind. Harriet had protested, justifiably so, that the headlines wouldn't look good if it got out that members of the cabinet had thrown a pimps and prostitutes theme party.
I muttered something about Gordon being difficult to get hold of but he just stood there in his hot pants and make-up and stared right through me not seeing the funny side.
"You're trying to make me look like an idiot Pete. I know you are. You've being doing it for years. It's just luck that ah came through the back door."
He couldn't have further from the truth. Sure we'd had our differences but we were all batting for the same team and for better or worse I intended to back him all the way through the coming election.
Gordon was having none of it though and as he glared at me I fought back tears and hoped the distinctive herbal smoke wouldn't cling to my clothes.
I scooped up little Misty, perhaps for comfort or maybe support, and looked right at him.
"It's not my fault you know. You never check your texts and you're not on Facebook.
"I think that stuff's making you forgetful Gordon. You never seem to get your messages. Perhaps you should..."
But before I could finish the sentence the Prime Minister grabbed Misty from my adoring clutch, took one look at me and another at the kitten then cooly bit her head off.
"It's okay Pete," he said spitting out the severed skull, "I get this message," before slipping out the back door in his fluorescent lycra tights.
My hands were shaking and there were spatters of blood on my shirt but I had to keep this under wraps. If the rest of the cabinet found out about this, someone would definitely leak and it would be Goodnight Vienna for all of us.
Besides, I didn't want to spoil the party before anyone had even tasted my Vol-au-vents.
I straightened my shirt, picked up the tray, and floated through to the lounge hoping my puffy eyes wouldn't draw as many questions as my puff pastry.
"Well well peeps, I've got good news and bad news." My cabinet colleagues were already quite drunk.
"The bad news is Gordon isn't coming." An audible chuckle went round the room. "But the good news is my Vol-au-vents are finally ready. Voila."
It was as though the past couple of years had never happened and everyone was really taking the opportunity to relax and let their hair down.
I nipped through the back to add the finishing touches to my famous prawn Vol-au-vents - I hadn't told anyone as I had wanted them to be a surprise - whilst Misty, the new Number 10 kitten, wrapped herself around my feet no doubt drawn by the smell of wild fresh atlantic prawn and homemade thousand island.
Right at that moment I sensed that I was being looked at from behind (yes it still happens - although not usually In No 10), and spun round to see Gordon, brooding and with a face like thunder.
A joint hung lazily from the corner of his mouth and he whispered to me slowly and quietly: "How come I'm the only one in fancy dress Pete?"
I cursed myself. I really had meant to tell him we'd cancelled the Pimps 'n Ho's theme but it must have slipped my mind. Harriet had protested, justifiably so, that the headlines wouldn't look good if it got out that members of the cabinet had thrown a pimps and prostitutes theme party.
I muttered something about Gordon being difficult to get hold of but he just stood there in his hot pants and make-up and stared right through me not seeing the funny side.
"You're trying to make me look like an idiot Pete. I know you are. You've being doing it for years. It's just luck that ah came through the back door."
He couldn't have further from the truth. Sure we'd had our differences but we were all batting for the same team and for better or worse I intended to back him all the way through the coming election.
Gordon was having none of it though and as he glared at me I fought back tears and hoped the distinctive herbal smoke wouldn't cling to my clothes.
I scooped up little Misty, perhaps for comfort or maybe support, and looked right at him.
"It's not my fault you know. You never check your texts and you're not on Facebook.
"I think that stuff's making you forgetful Gordon. You never seem to get your messages. Perhaps you should..."
But before I could finish the sentence the Prime Minister grabbed Misty from my adoring clutch, took one look at me and another at the kitten then cooly bit her head off.
"It's okay Pete," he said spitting out the severed skull, "I get this message," before slipping out the back door in his fluorescent lycra tights.
My hands were shaking and there were spatters of blood on my shirt but I had to keep this under wraps. If the rest of the cabinet found out about this, someone would definitely leak and it would be Goodnight Vienna for all of us.
Besides, I didn't want to spoil the party before anyone had even tasted my Vol-au-vents.
I straightened my shirt, picked up the tray, and floated through to the lounge hoping my puffy eyes wouldn't draw as many questions as my puff pastry.
"Well well peeps, I've got good news and bad news." My cabinet colleagues were already quite drunk.
"The bad news is Gordon isn't coming." An audible chuckle went round the room. "But the good news is my Vol-au-vents are finally ready. Voila."
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