By Abigail Pennson, our reasonable, plain-speaking middle-class columnist who is ready and willing to accept a post in Trump’s White House
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WAKING up with a hangover that causes me to emit several small pieces of my brain when I sneeze, I realise I have had a nightmare. I dreamt I was in my chambers, and looking in the mirror I was met with the face of an insipid, bespectacled fellow with a somewhat poorly defined jawline.
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