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Friday 25 January 2013

The Meaning of The Big Speech!



THE SCENE:

The Snug in The Three Feathers Inn just off the Old Kent Road;

The room is empty except for one “city gent” who is sitting alone at a table in the far corner of the room. He is nursing a pint of bitter in one hand whilst holding a photograph of a frumpy, middle aged woman in the other. 
He is looking lovingly at the image and muttering;
“We did it, we did it.’

Another “city gent” comes into the snug looks around and spies the other chap. He buys himself a Pimms and saunters over to the table.
“Alwright, govner, ows it gowin?”

The other bloke looks up and swears;
“Bloody Hell, Clegg. What the fuck are you doing here and why are you trying to talk like a local?”

“Sorry, Dave, old son. I was trying to blend in.”

“Blend in? Blend in? You LibDem cretin! You can’t even blend in at a LibDem Conference. Anyway, I’ll ask again, why are you here?”

Clegg looks hurt and hesitates before pulling a chair out and sitting down. He replies:
“There was no need for that you know, after all without my support you wouldn’t even be Prime Minister. If you only knew how much stick I take every day for supporting you!”
“And its not just from colleagues in the House, Miriam thinks you are a right tosser!”

Dave glares at Clegg but before he can issue forth another tirade, Clegg asks;
“Why have you got a photo of Angela Merkel?”

“She gave it to me at the last EU summit.”

“Gave it to you?”

“Well, actually I asked her for a signed photo and she gave me this.” Dave brandishes the photo towards Clegg.

“Why on earth would you want a photo of that frumpy Frau? Does Samantha know you carry that around with you?”

“You don’t understand, Clegg. Angela has an inner strength like no other person I have ever met. "♬Deutschland, Deutschland über alles♬".

Shut up, you fool! Are you trying to get us thrown out?”  Hisses a clearly embarrassed and bewildered Clegg.

“I don’t care, after that speech I gave this morning we’re untouchable. Don’t you get it Cleggy, I had them in the palm of my hand, even that fucking UKIP rabble are stuffed now, just like Angela and Sam said they would be when they helped me write the speech.”

“They helped you write the speech?” Asks Clegg, incredulously.

“Yes, it was all Angela’s idea. She and Sam worked it all out last time we were in Strasbourg. I love strong women don’t you, Cleggy?”

“Err, yyes, I suppose I do but what is Merkel’s game?” Asks Clegg.

“Sometimes I worry about you Clegg, No wonder the LibDems are unelectable. She sees the UK and Germany as the top dogs in Europe..”

“But.” Interjects Clegg. “You have just offered the country an in/out referendum and with the latest polls showing 53% wanting out I think you and Angela need to go back to the drawing board.” 

“Oh, you of little faith! Angela and Sam told me to expect this; that’s why we are not offering a referendum until 2017. By then we will have spun a few yarns and massaged the jobless figures to suit our needs and, hey presto we’re in. Not least because Angela will guarantee that we will achieve all of our demands”

“I don’t think it will be that easy Dave, what if Labour win the next Election?”

“Oh pulease! Do grow up Clegg. I’ve already duped Milliband into saying on public television, in front of the House, that Labour do not want and will not give a referendum. Sam said that if I goad him he will fuck himself and his Party and he has.”

“Yeah, but what about Moody’s? What if they downgrade our credit rating?“ Asks Clegg, with doubt in his voice.

“They won’t, I’ve already issued a warning to all the big company’s that trade in this country that we are after them for Tax. The thing is, it doesn’t matter whether they pay or not because it sends a message out to Moody’s and the other Credit Agencies that the UK is acting responsibly in trying to get its affairs in order.”
“The next stage is to drip feed a few increases in benefits, kick a few people out just to show faith with ‘the great unwashed’. Rattle the sabre at the EU, the Frogs are already shitting themselves after my speech. Then, as I said before, time will win us the vote we want in the referendum and after that the sky’s the limit, as they say.”

Clegg sits back in his chair, glass in hand but unable to raise it to his lips.
“You are completely fucking mad aren’t you?” He says. “When the three of you were working this out did it never occur to any of you to consult me? We are partners after all!”

“Why would we consult you? What would have been the point? You need to realise that you and your Party are just a ‘means to an end’, You tried to fuck me over the boundary changes, you have blocked any reform of the ECHR and you are wasting billions on stupid fucking ‘green energy’ ! Need I go on? No, Nicky boy, your days are numbered. In fact, Sam is crossing them off the calendar on a daily basis.”

“So.” Says Clegg. “You think you can do this without my help? What if I dissolve our partnership? What then for your Master Plan, eh?”

“Oh, I should have a chat with Vince before you make any rash decisions. Very ambitious for an old man is our Vince.”

“Think you’ve got it all worked out, don’t you?’ Screams Clegg.

“No, Nicky boy. I know I’ve got it worked out. When we, the Conservative Party, win an outright victory at the next General Election I will renegotiate the Treaty and, as I said, Angela will make sure that we get everything we request. I will then give the people an in/out referendum which we will win and over the next two years I will give power back to Angela. She, in return, will make sure that Germany and The UK are the the leading powers in a new Federal Europe.”

“Where does Tony Blair fit into this ‘Grand Scheme of Things’ ?” He won’t let you ride roughshod over his ambition to become the lifelong President of the EU!”

“Blair is of no concern. He has been promised the job as long as he does as he is told and, like a good Capitalist, he has agreed. Now, any more questions?”

“What about me, you bastard! I helped you get where you are?”

“Go and have a word with that nice Mr Farage, I hear he might have some cleaning jobs going.”

Clegg storms off muttering;

“Bastard, bastard, bastard!”

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