SK: Ah, Comrade Corbyn. Good to see you again. What can we do for you?
JC: I wish to complain about the politician I bought from this here establishment not hours ago.
*puts cage on counter*
SK: Oh yes. The Burnham. Lovely plumage, changes to suit the political climate. What's wrong with him
JC: I'll tell you what's wrong with him my lad. It repeats everything I say, that's what.
SK: No it doesn't!
JC: Yes it does!
AB: Yes it does!
SK: That wasn't repetition, it can't have been. Look, he's resting.
JC: Resting? Resting? If I hadn't covered it in manifesto commitments it would be pushing up the deficit right now
AB: Up the deficit! Up the deficit!
JC: There! It did it again!
SK: No, that was me. It couldn't have been the Burnham because it's...err....dead. That's it, dead.
SK: Yep. Dead. If he wasn't laying on his back you would be able to see the stab wounds. He's a stiff. Bereft of votes. Giving a speech to the conference invisible. Climbed up the party hierarchy and gone to meet his backers.
JC: Well if he's dead, I want a replacement
SK: Sorry chief. We don't have any more in stock. I could do you a Cooper or a Kendall
JC: What's the difference between them and a Burnham
SK: To be honest with you mate, fuck all.