“It was horrible – he pulled down his trousers then jumped on top of her! Not surprisingly, the poor old girl collapsed under the weight of the fat bastard, her innards crushed! It was obvious she was a goner!” says former Downing Street office clerk Roland Wuberkind, recalling the moment that an illicit Christmas party at the Prime Minister’s residence during lockdown turned to tragedy when Boris Johnson allegedly took a prank too far. “It was like that business in the twenties, when ‘Fatty’ Arbuckle allegedly crushed that girl to death when he sexually assaulted her at that party!” Thankfully, the victim in the Downing Street incident was a venerable office photocopier, which became a casualty after Prime Minister Johnson, apparently the worse for wear with drink, attempted to photocopy his own arse. “I know that it was only a piece of office equipment, but that photocopier had been here for nigh on fifteen years, giving reliable service,” Wuberkind asserts. “She was well loved by the staff – we called her Abigail – and to see her crushed beyond recognition by that fat oaf was heartbreaking! Even worse was the way they just dumped her, in bits, in the bins around the back!” Johnson reportedly did finally manage to photocopy his arse, but had to use two copiers, one for each cheek, in order to spread his weight. “They were newer machines, down in the registry,” recalls the former clerk. “They might be able to deliver more copies per minute, but their resolution is nowhere near as good as the one he murdered, so the jokes on him, as his arse came out all fuzzy and blurred.”

The reports of a spate of Christmas parties on government premises during the festive season of 2020, when Covid restrictions meant that members of the public were prohibited from holding such gatherings, have rocked Johnson’s government, with the Prime Minister having to endure a massive public backlash. In their defence, the government have claimed that these gatherings were not parties as such, but in fact business meetings and staff conferences – and even if they had been parties, then all regulations concerning masks and social distancing would have been observed. Wuberkind’s photocopier revelations, however, have fuelled suspicions that these gatherings actually were genuine parties. “This blows their claim that these were merely business or staff meetings, at which some cheese and wine happened to be served, out of the water,” opines Labour MP Chris Shonckler. “If arses were being photocopied, then they were definitely parties! Everyone knows that the key elements of office Christmas parties are drunken arse copying, sexual harassment in the stationary cupboard and random alcohol fuelled violence. Oh, and usually someone throwing up in the office shredder!”

According to Wuberkind, who felt moved to turn whistleblower as a result of the government’s continued mishandling of the pandemic, not to mention office equipment, in addition to arse copying, all of the other elements of a party – violence, sexual harassment and yet more office equipment abuse – were present in abundance at the function he witnessed. “Admittedly, Johnson didn’t puke in the shredder – he did far worse,” he claims. “After he crushed Abigail to death and before he finally photocopied his arse on the other two photocopiers, he drunkenly mistook the shredder for a photocopier and jumped on it. He was bloody lucky not to have his arse ripped to shreds when it started up – as it was, he was so startled that he let go from his bowels and shat into it. It was horrible – shit flew all over the office. But Johnson just didn’t seem to care – he was laughing uproariously!” The sexual harassment came when, allegedly, Johnson bared his backside to female staff members quipping ‘how’d you like to stuff and baste that, eh ladies? ‘ and invited hem to give his cheeks a good slap. “At the time I thought ‘Well, thank God he hasn’t shown us the “last turkey in the shop”, but then it just got worse,” Wuberkind recalls, grimacing at the memory. “He whipped out his cock, poured brandy all over it and set light to it – it would have been OK, as the alcohol would normally have burned off without causing injury, but some of it had poured into his pubes and they went up like a bonfire.” Chaos followed, with the Prime Minister, his groin ablaze, running around the room in a panic, before finally dousing his blazing bollocks in a bowl of fruit punch.

“I’m amazed that the whole office didn’t go up, the way he was careening around,” says Wuberkind. “I mean, there was so much paper around – official documents, secret memoranda and Brexit Northern Ireland protocols they had no intention of honouring.” Before any of these incidents, the clerk claims, the party had already gotten off to a violent start, with Johnson’s spectacular entrance. “He decided to try and come down the Chimney, dressed as Santa Claus,” he says, wincing. “Obviously, he was already drunk when he came up with this idea – I mean, there was no way a fat bastard like him was going to get down that flue with ease. But somehow he managed to get as far as the office fireplace – there was a huge crash from the direction of the roof, before a cloud of soot came down the chimney, then we saw his flailing legs appear at the top of the hearth.” After much swearing and thrashing about, the whole chimney breast burst apart and Johnson came tumbling out in cloud of soot, dust and flying bricks. “The amount of damage done was shocking,” says Wuberkind. “We found out later hat he had also wrecked the chimney stack coming down it, with loose bricks crashing through the slates on the roof.”

Despite being covered in soot and dust and having lost his beard in his farcical entrance, Johnson insisted on going through with his Santa act, rummaging around in his dusty sack and pulling out badly wrapped presents for staff. “To be honest, it looked like he’d used toilet paper to wrap them. Not even good quality stuff, but that horrible shiny stuff he’d probably nicked from the staff toilets,” says Wuberkind. “Worse still, the ‘presents’ all turned out to be bits of stationary that he’d obviously stolen from the office upstairs – Dave from the senior advisers office got given his own stapler, he could tell because it had his name scratched into it!” When Dave challenged the PM and accused him of being a ‘cheap ass thief’ and a ‘pound shop Scrooge’, Johnson allegedly punched him in the face, before breaking down in tears. “It was pathetic – he tried to blame the crap Christmas presents on Rishi Sunak,” explains Wuberkind. “He claimed that the Chancellor had imposed strict spending limits on his seasonal gift expenditure and that if he’d actually bought anything then he would have incurred a deficit.” Not surprisingly, Downing Street has denied all of Wuberkind’s claims, describing them as being ‘utterly ludicrous’ and accusing the former Downing Street clerk of being a disgruntled ex-employee who was dismissed for his inappropriate behaviour with a photocopying machine and urinating in the punch bowl at the annual office Christmas party – which definitely never happened.