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Hi, Alice. Wow. What have you done to the studio? I've refurbed it. What do you mean by refurb?

It just feels like it's full of loads of weird stuff. Well, it was a bit plain before.

I just wanted to jazz it up a bit, give us something more befitting of our status. Yeah, okay. What is that?

So that's the kissing cupboard from the John Darwin series. If you look over there, there's the

gold willy taps from the Lipvin Yenko series. Yeah, I can't take my eyes off them. And what

is in that frame? What on earth is that? Oh, that's the five breasted portrait of Mary Whitehouse

from the BBC. That is that is the stuff of nightmares, isn't it? And get the sense this isn't up your street.

I wouldn't say not up my street. I would say I really, really actively hate it.

Okay, it's cost of fortune. I do need to talk to you about the financing actually.

Um, do you know any lords?

Fifth of April, 2020, the Downing Street flat. Boris slowly props himself up in bed.

His lungs burn, his body aches. He's never been in so much pain or felt so weak.

He looks down at the iPad in front of him. A sea of worried faces stare back.

It's his fourth meeting today and all he wants to do is sleep. He declared lockdown 13 days ago.

He'd hoped it would only last three weeks, but he's just read the latest figures on Covid infection

rates and their start a name. Numbers are rising by the day. Hospitals are struggling to cope

everywhere. The death toll is mounting.

It's so surreal here when you say that because it was such a different time and obviously Covid

is still very present, but at this point so much was unknown.

You wouldn't even know how you could catch it or how serious it would be if you did.

There was no vaccine. There was no end in sight.

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