.... bunker, the air was fetid and clammy. Dust was vibrated loose from the ceilings and pipework as regular hits from the polls and intelligence meant it was all over, the end of the thousand year constituency was collapsing in front of their tired, bloodshot eyes. General Stiffpants, an egotist with a brain the size of a peanut, insisted all would be well, but times were desperate and all were looking for a way of escape before the 12th, when their surrender timetable expired.
General Hickory had retired to his rooms as he had some decorating to finish and a curtain rail to put up.
Then suddenly Mike woke up startled, sat up in bed and said, "quick, book us a holiday to fly out on the 11th".