It All Started So Well

Cast your minds back two and a half long years. Back to the halcyon days of uncertainty and hope. The One Eyed Fiscal Fraud had hightailed it back to Scotland and the vacuum within the Labour Party was temporarily filled by the even more vacuous Harriet Harman. To everyones surprise, not least his brother's, Ed Milliband was handed the leadership of the Labour Party by the Union Barons at the next Party Conference.

Tom Jones had a 47-year ban lifted in a tiny Welsh village - after being accused of pinching a chicken. Tom was just a penniless club singer when he appeared in the village's social club in 1963.

But his band, Tommy Scott and The Senators, was blacklisted from Fochriw, which has a population of 1000 people, over the mystery disappearance of a chicken which was first prize in the club raffle.

Friday 7th May Election results are in and we were heading for a hung Parliament, 11th May Brown resigns, Cameron is Prime Minister. (resists urge to chuckle). May 12th 20110, Coalition begins, (excuse me, cannot resist urge to chuckle any longer).

That's better. Thursday 13th May............

A Day in the Life of Cammy & Cleggy

In a secret military bunker situated in, what was, the snug at The Dog & Duck, just off the Old Kent Road, two well dressed Public School Old Boys are reading the Evening Standard whilst eating a late lunch of Cheddar cheese and asparagus tips. Close to the right hand of each man is a foaming pint of Fullers Best.

The air is thick with imagined smoke as both men puff hard on their respective Nicotinel Inhalators; gifts from Bernie Ecclestone. 

On the wall are several prints, one of which is of Margaret Thatcher. She is nude at a piano with only two milk bottle tops to cover her assets. If you look closely you can spot Dennis; his reflection is apparent in the right hand milk bottle top. It is said that the original photograph was taken when Mrs Thatcher was on tour as a Calendar Girl. It is further said that it was whilst on that particular tour that she got her deep hatred of miners. 

Apparently, she was working for the Grimethorpe Colliery at the time as a kick start operator in the winding gear shed. What her employers didn’t know was that Dennis had got her a job at the local Conservative Club, moonlighting as an exotic cloak room attendant. One of the cast of The Calendar Girls saw her in there one night and got her another job as a replacement for Miss July, who had to retire because of a bad case of gout.

She was reported to the colliery by a disgruntled fan, whom she refused to acknowledge even though he used to march up to the stage twirling batons and singing “Maggie May” at the top of his voice. The aim, though futile, was to impress the lady.

His name was Micky Hessletine and the bosses at Grimethorpe were so grateful, they gave him her old job. However, he soon tired of this and moved down south where he was head hunted by a prominent helicopter manufacturer and became a lobbyist.

The silence in the room was only broken by the rustling of newspaper and the odd fart. Suddenly, one of the toffs throws down his newspaper in disgust and, before turning to his companion, picks up his pint and downs it in one. Then, smacking his lips he completes his turn and says:

 ‘I say Prime Minister, have you seen what the one eyed son of the manse has  done?' 

  

 ‘Sold Scotland’s battered Mars bar reserves!’ Asks Cammy in a bored voice, as as only an Eton snob can effect.

‘Be serious PM!’

 ‘I am being serious!’

 ‘It’s the Honours List! Have you seen it?’

 ‘God! No, am I on it?’ Replies Cammy.

 ‘Derr! Of course not! You’re supposed to write a List as well.’

‘Bugger! Nobody told me!’

 ‘Well you had better get one written pretty damn sharpish! Her Maj will be really disappointed if you don’t give her one!’

‘Shall I put that fellow Laws on it?’

‘Better not PM, there’s something you should know about him.’

 ‘Oh yes, what’s that then?’ Asks Cammy, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

 ‘He’s been on the fiddle, slight matter of giving 40 grand to his puffter partner for lodgings.’

‘My God! Does one have to have - how shall I put it? - leanings - to be a Lib      Dem?

‘I don’t know what you mean, how dare you?’ Replies Cleggy, feigning hurt.

 ‘Easily, I’m the PM! Now, what did you want to tell me about the Great One Eyed Wonder?’

‘Oh, yes! He’s only put John - sorry Pauline - Prescott through for a peerage! I mean, the man was a bloody waiter on the P&O Line! It wouldn’t surprise me to see that he’s recommended Tracy Temple for an OBE! Then there’s that Scottish thug, John Read, he’s going to be swathed in ermine as well!’

‘Slow down, Nicky, old son. We’ll just pass new legislation to half the number of Peers; sort of first come first serve basis, which means we can boot him out in six months.’

‘Ooh PM, I love it when you’re assertive, it gives me goose bumps. can I call you Cammy?’

‘No! It’s Prime Minister and don’t you forget it!’

‘Ooh!’

‘Because I like you, you can call me “Cammy” but, only behind closed doors. Got It!’

‘Wait until I tell Miriam, she’ll be thrilled!”

‘Run along to your little hacienda and inform your bit of Spanish totty whilst I go and see the vicars daughter.’

“Who?’

‘That old boiler Theresa May, now piss off cos I’ve got Prime Minister things to do!’

To be continued...