G eorge Osborne picked up the bundle of newspapers on the table in front of him and tossed them into the bin. He might have been asked on to the Andrew Marr Show to take part in a review of the papers, but frankly he couldn’t be bothered. That would be too much like work and George was officially on holiday. And it showed. No one could remember the last time he looked quite so happy.

The election couldn’t have turned out any better and George was determined to enjoy every minute of his chance to smash up the last remaining working components of the Maybot. “Theresa May is a dead woman walking,” he said, making no effort to conceal his elation. The only question was how long it took for the computer and the Tories to say no. He looked as if he wouldn’t mind if she carried on for a little while yet, if only to prolong her suffering.

“Her promise that no deal is better than a bad Brexit deal is now dead in the water as the DUP will never allow that,” George continued, punching the air in triumph. Come to think of it, there weren’t any bits of the manifesto that weren’t dead in the water. The few sections that hadn’t been rewritten during the election campaign would certainly have to be rewritten now.

George stripped down to his speedos and went off to do a few lengths of the pool to cool down, leaving Toby “Last of the Maybotniks” Young to have a breakdown of his own by insisting that the strong and stable Supreme Leader really was still the strong and stable Supreme Leader. Back in Downing Street, the Maybot started typing her resignation letter. When Toby is your Praetorian guard, it really is time to go. Toby has yet to find an argument he can understand, let alone win.

After towelling himself dry, George returned for some more poolside bantz. This time he had Boris Johnson in his sights. Was it true that the foreign secretary was plotting a leadership bid? “Oh Boris,” George sniggered dismissively. “It’s a permanent leadership campaign with Boris.” And if the Tories were really stupid enough to fall for the charms of a prize narcissist then they deserved to lose the next election. Job done, George sloped off for a large G&T. Like his revenge, best served ice cold.

In any Tory shitstorm, it’s a fair bet that Michael Fallon will be sent out to steady the sinking ship. Primarily because Mogadon Mike is usually too dopey to know there is a shitstorm going on. Sure enough, he began by saying how brilliantly the Tories had done to win the most seats and he was looking forward to Brexit carrying on as normal.

At which point, Marr had to break it to him that the Tories had actually had a disastrous election and that they were going to have to be propped up by a bunch of gay-hating, climate-change denying, religious bigots. Mogadon Mike appeared genuinely astonished by this piece of news and quickly ad libbed that he couldn’t possibly comment on any deal because he didn’t know if there was one. But assuming there might be one soon it would probably be best for all concerned if the Tories didn’t publicly reveal what promises they had made to “our friends the DUP”. Under the circumstances, friends was probably not the ideal choice of words.

The Tory multiple pile-up continued over on Peston on ITV and Sophy Ridge on Sky as Nicky Morgan and Anna Soubry made little effort to disguise how thrilled they were that the Maybot would be out of a job by the end of the summer. Morgan also managed to knife Boris, second on her list of arch enemies, by insisting the next leadership campaign shouldn’t be a coronation like the last one. Oh to be in England now that May’s not here.

While the Tories engaged in a desperate fight to the death over an already dead leader, Jeremy Corbyn was at his most Mr Zen. Chatty, funny – “Look at me, I’ve got youth on my side” – and relaxed. He also sounded entirely reasonable as he talked of delivering a Brexit that worked for jobs. Bye bye, hard Brexit. Nor did he rule out inviting the newly penitent Caroline Flint and Yvette Cooper, who had both made strong pitches to get their old jobs back, to return to the shadow cabinet.

“I’ve always had an open door,” he said. He hasn’t, of course, but neither Flint nor Cooper was going to challenge him on that. Not when there was an even chance he could be prime minister within a couple of years.