Oxbridge Labour MPs, denizens of Davos, private school pupils and moneyed, pampered progressives are dialling the phone number of the elite in panic and asking them what they should do now, where their carreers are heading now.
"Down the toilet" is what the elite reply. "Sorry," say the elite, "we can't help you now, we can't offer you anything any more, there are no more guarantees, no more gravy trains, we're darned if we know what is going on, we never saw this Corbynmania coming. The people have spoken, and now we are worried about ourselves, so you Oxbridge Labour MPs will have to fend for yourselves. It's every man and woman for themselves now, it's abandon ship, it's pandemonium. The people have spoken."
After these sobering words from the elite, Oxbridge Labour MPs were seen wandering bedraggled, dazed and confused through House of Commons corridors, making their way to the nearest subsidised bar to drown their sorrows at public expense for maybe the last time.
Meanwhile in Islington, the people held all night celebrations and erected statues of the people's hero - Jeremy Corbyn. Things would never be the same again.