LIVE BLOG: Ed Miliband's First Day in Ibiza

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LIVE BLOG: Ed Miliband's First Day in Ibiza

The recently resigned Labour leader tells us all about his first day on the White Isle.

The news has broken that in order to "get away from it all", Ed Miliband has gone to Ibiza. He has been gracious enough to live blog his first day on the White Isle exclusively for us.

1400 (CET): Awoke to the plane touching down. I'm sweating, most likely a combination of the heat and the weird dream I just had about Nicola Sturgeon flying the plane. I take my phone off Airplane mode and receive a rude text from Lord Sugar. Justine suggests I put it back on Airplane mode.

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1454 (CET): Out of the airport. Warm air shoots up my nostrils. I'm free.

1530 (CET): We are sat in the back of a cab. I can't see any documentation validating the driver as a licensing the car for private hire. I mutter something along these lines to Justine who tells me not to worry.

1538 (CET): The driver just offered us some "really good pills" for €15 a pop. "That ain't gonna happen" I tell him. Justine reckons we can probably get hold of more reliable pingers if we ask one of the reps at the hotel.

1605 (CET): The hotel reception is completely empty. We check in at the desk and they hand over the key, but absolutely nobody appears to be on one. Still early perhaps. We head up to the room and I put on my desert island mix. Kick things off with "Take on Me" by Aha, then on to some Neil Diamond. By the time it's "Angels" by Robbie, Justine suggests I put something else on.

1712 (CET): Popped out for a bottle of Hierbas. Bumped into Vince Cable, tried not to make eye contact, but it didn't work and he sauntered over making some comment about us all needing some "time to reflect" before asking where I'm going out tonight. I nodded and said I didn't know yet but that I liked his polo shirt, before darting back into the hotel.

1930 (CET): Justine and I head out to Amante for dinner. We continue where the Hierbas left off with a jug of Sangria. The sun is setting. Text from Ed Balls saying "Ed Balls." I reply reminding him to type the message, not his name. He responds a few minutes later. I clasp Justine's hand as the starters arrive. Tonight is going to be a belter.

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1958 (CET): Think I just saw George Galloway on the way to the toilet. Hope not.

2104 (CET): Back at the hotel. All the boys are here, Ed Balls, Douglas Alexander, Jim Murphy and we've got Hed Kandi classics (2006) on the iPod dock.

2159 (CET): We tried playing ring of fire but we couldn't agree on the rules. Jim has brought a beer bong. I made a joke about the "trickle down effect" while he was pouring beer into the top. Everyone laughed. I added something about fair distribution but it didn't land quite as well.

2236 (CET): Douglas Alexander is totally gone. Justine is trying to make him a cup of tea, but she's pretty wasted too. Jim says we should all head to the Blue Marlin for some cocktails. I can't find my watch.

2342 (CET): Made it to Blue Marlin. It's really expensive and Ed Balls is trying to do a balance a cocktail on his head like Farage. I think he's misreading the vibe.

0051 (CET): We've made it to Underground, recommended by one of my junior researchers. It's a smallish place, but bar a few locals is again pretty empty. Jim Murphy is trying to get the DJ to play something funky. Every time he says 'funky' he slams his hand on the booth. I suggest we try Space.

0056 (CET): As we leave the bouncer makes a joke about 'exit polls'. I lurch at him but Ed Balls holds me back. "I'm tough enough", I slur back at everyone. They bundle me into a cab.

0131 (CET): Space is shut. What is this? Where's Carl Cox? Where are all the dancers? I want to go to the Terrace bar. A few other ousted Labour MPs are knocking around now. Andy Sawford, who lost his seat in Corby, just asked me for a lighter.

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0240 (CET): Amnesia is closed as well. I twos a cigarette with Douglas who is talking about the SNP again.

0311 (CET): We get into Pacha, same old story. Hardly anybody here. Is there another island we were supposed to go to? We make our way through to the smoking area. Nick Clegg is crying. We leave.

0451 (CET): I feel like we've been walking the streets for hours now. Most of the defeated Labour back benchers are dragging their feet along with us. Justine thinks we should just go home. I say otherwise. We've come all the way here. We are going to find somewhere.

0522 (CET): We are in a tiny bar. I can't even remember the name. I don't think the owner wants us here. There's about 40 drunk ex-MPs packing the place, standing on the furniture. Margaret Curran is trying to do the worm. I've just seen a rat scuttle behind a rusting fridge behind the bar. I gag.

0639 (CET): We've all piled down on to the beach. Justine, Ed, Jim, Douglas, all the other Labour losers and I got here to find most of the Lib Dems had had the same idea. George Galloway is trying to find his hat. We are slumped in the sand, watching the sun emerge from the ocean like a pale peach. I get a text from David Cameron: "Opening parties start in two weeks hahahahahahahaahaha." I throw my phone into the sea.

0730 (CET): I'm eating a bacon sandwich and I do not give a fuck.

For legal reasons we should add: this obviously didn't actually happen.

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