You know who'd make a bloody brilliant ethics adviser? Me

From the diaries of Carrie Johnson, Britain’s First Lady: 

INNATE, incorruptible moral authority. Already in the orbit of Downing Street. Independent from the office of prime minister. Opportunity, meet Carrie. 

Look at the evidence. Since we first met I’ve kept him straight and honest, so flawless moral guidance is already in place. Admittedly he doesn’t follow it consistently.

Ethical living? That’s my whole reason for being. That’s my sole focus, day after day, setting an ethical example to the young people of Britain. Showing them how to tread lightly on our fragile earth.

And independent? Anyone who’s heard me going at him after another one of his idiocies – there was a tape you may remember, I felt I came across exceptionally well – knows that I don’t blindly take his side. I am very much my own woman.

Slam dunk. I presented my case. ‘Fuck all that,’ Big Dog said. ‘Ethics are for Aristotle.’

‘Look at the Romans,’ he continued. ‘Dropped all that ethics shit. Conquered the known world. Only collapsed when they turned Christian. Ethics get in the way.’

‘What about my green living net zero initiative outreach?’ I said. ‘That’s at the heart of everything we do as a government and a couple?’

‘Not doing me any fucking good in the polls,’ he said. ‘Neither was Geidt. Who did he think he was, judging me?’

‘I didn’t like him,’ I said. ‘When he came round about the wallpaper? He winced when I told him it was £840 a roll. Like I was noveau riche.’

‘See?’ he said, taking a quick swig of Pimms straight from the jug. ‘Better off without one. It’s like when Marina installed nannycams. All they can do is get you in trouble.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but it pays £140k a year.’ ‘You’re perfect for it,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the paperwork through for Monday.’

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Mash Blind Date: 'We got blackout shitfaced. There's sick on my jeans'

WILL drinking heavily to dispel their social anxiety lead to love for Hannah and Alex? Or to a three-day hangover and memory gaps? 

Hannah on Alex

First impression?

I get nervous on dates so I was getting a little Dutch courage at the bar to follow up on pre-drinks and didn’t get a close look at him. I mean he was there but I was distracted. Has a beard?

How was conversation?

Stilted until we’d sunk a bottle of red between us. We turned out to be totally on the same page about alcohol as a vital social lubricant. By the end of the second bottle we were best mates, and by the third we were having a vicious argument about whether Carol Vorderman could take Rachel Riley in a fight.

Memorable moments?

It’s more the lack of. I remember rolling around in grass, and at some point we were thrown out of somewhere. At one stage – perhaps on a railway line? – one of us was very sick on Alex’s jeans.

Favourite thing about Alex? 

He’s very enabling. We did talk about ourselves but it’s all a blur if I’m honest. Could be a chef?

A capsule description?

We cleared £300 on drink and I can’t remember anything.

Was there a spark?

I really fancied him for about 20 minutes after my espresso martini, but it was probably just the caffeine and sugar cutting through the booze for a moment. I’m still not sure what he looks like.

What happened afterwards?

I woke up this morning with Alex in my bed and his ruined trousers in the bath. It’s surpassingly unlikely anything could possibly have happened.

What would you change about the evening?

Literally everything after the pre-drinks.

Will you see each other again?

I think it’s best for both of us if this never happened.

Alex on Hannah

First impression?

She seemed as nervous as me, which I vibed with, until I realised that booze isn’t just a conversational crutch for one of us.

How was conversation?

Early on, because I get emotional on stout, I remember crying as I described in tortuous detail the break up of my last relationship. But later on it seemed it was news to her so maybe that didn’t happen.

Memorable moments?

I’ve no recollection of what happened to my trousers. But I don’t carry spares. Putting them on to leave the next day is an experience I won’t forget.

Favourite thing about Hannah?

I like that she distracted her flatmate while I snuck out the front door, and her clearly expressed desire we don’t see each other ever again.

A capsule description?

It’ll make a good anecdote when I’ve got over the shame.

Was there a spark?

There’s certainly something compelling about watching a woman shout ‘Vorderman is NAILS, mate!’ at a bouncer as she gets turfed out of a gastropub, but I’m not sure if it constitutes anything you could build on.

What happened afterwards?

I don’t remember anything after pissing on the railway line.

What would you change about the evening?

When she said ‘Shall we get another bottle?’ I would say ‘No fucking chance’.

Will you see each other again?

Even if we do, we’ve agreed not to.