Boris Johnson in his underpants

We had a lovely anniversary meal in one of the Meldrum house domes, very swish....then, as we were leaving, loved up and hand in hand, we passed the gable end of the stables at dusk. The side door was wide open and the lights were blaring. It was his voice we heard first bellowing “Where is my red box, I can’t find my red box!”, we turned our heads knowing immediately who it was and there he was, backlit from the light inside and standing near the bottom of the stairwell in his white shirt, pants (thank goodness!) and socks. Boris Flippin' Johnson. He froze as he realised we were joe public. I was so angry  - but not surprised  - to find he truly is a complete and utter incompetent arse in real life that I swore at him but we never stopped to give him the time of day, we just carried on walking to the car,  me raging away.  A very surreal experience, we couldn’t stop laughing all the way home, if we’d been 5 seconds later or earlier we wouldn’t have seen him and I’d not been able to give him a telling off, not that he probably noticed.
 
We’ll not forget our 21st wedding anniversary for a while (although i wish i could forget the image of him back lit at the bottom of the stairs bellowing like a spoilt (soiled?) gorilla (with apologies to all gorillas)) and I’m sure I’m not the first and certainly won't be the last middle aged women to swear at the arse incarnate that is our current Prime Minister.  But at least we know why he didn’t have time to meet Nicola Sturgeon – he was looking for his trousers and his red box….I assume he has long since found both and the country can rest at ease….. as if.  The most bizarre things was the security reaction – we had thought they were private security chauffeurs getting ready to load oil and gas big wigs golf clubs into the huge motors, we didn’t realise they were security until we saw the  "Commander In Briefs" – but they had just let us walk past the stables as they obviously hadn't anticipated him coming walking down the stairwell to the open door in his undercrackers.  It turns out that the whole Tory MP, MSP and clingers on parcel of rogues had been hanging at Meldrum most of the day eagerly awaiting their incompetent fop.  But apart from all that.......wonderful anniversary meal with D.