Back from the holiday he started on Wednesday... he must have thought the judges wouldn't dare enter his flat in his absence, the idiot. Now he's in Paris, frantically trying to make sure anything compromising is destroyed right away, I presume.
*nervously* There might have been something about thrusting nuclear warheads, but none of the other stuff - I only talk to him about that when he gets me drunk.
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You wouldn't call a couple of love letters from the Russian President that they took away compromising, would you?
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