Wasn't that a triumph? Well it was for me
From Alan B'stard MP
I write my column this week on a bleary-eyed Friday morning. Probably you've already forgotten, but Thursday was polling day in several random parts of England, including Scotland and Wales, and I was up all night. Actually these two facts are unconnected. I wasn't kept awake by the stream of poll results, but by the "two for one" offer at my local pole dancing club. Those Warsaw girls really know how to swing to the right.
I finally crawled into my bed at dawn, but my slumber was rudely broken an hour later - not by my Pole dancers, but by the editor of Radio Four's Today programme, who had phoned to ask whether I'd appear on his appalling show to explain Labour's disastrous election performance.
I pointed out that you can't actually appear on the radio. Besides, I predicted, by the time most of the results were in he would discover that New Labour had performed rather well overnight, as had I, according to Sonja and Kristina.
And lo it came to pass. When my office junior Hazel Blears (who even sounds ginger on the wireless) came warbling over the airwaves a couple of hours later, she sounded cheerful to the point of hysteria. Yes, Labour had lost lots of seats, but hadn't lost all its seats, and some Welsh people still liked us, and while the new computerised counting system in Scotland doesn't work, it only cost a fraction of the National Health computer system that doesn't work, so relatively, it is quite cost-effective.
I was so impressed with Hazel that I called her immediately to congratulate her on her manipulation of the facts. When she answered, I said: "Is that Hazel?" "Not necessarily," she replied.
Then a familiar desiccated voice came on the radio. Sir Menzies Campbell, "Ming" to his friends, leader of the Liberal Democrats, or the "Creditable Morals" if you enjoy anagrams. Mong was delighted at how well his party had performed.
Yes, they had lost some seats, said Mung, but they had won some. They'd failed to hold certain councils, but had captured others (he didn't elaborate on whether taking power in Hull was a triumph or a -nightmare). They'd lost seats in Wales, but were likely to join the coalition. They'd won seats in Scotland but didn't want to join the coalition.
I was still recovering from Mang, when up piped an eager young whipper-snapper, who turned out to be shadow chancellor, and heir to the biscuit empire, George Gideon Oliver Osborne: "Goo" to his friends. Goo enthused that the Tories were definitely on their way back to national power. They'd captured seats in Scotland for the first time in decades, and had swept Labour aside in Surrey.
Granted, their share of the poll in northern cities lagged behind the BNP's, but on the other hand, when the Scots declared independence, Labour would be doomed to perpetual opposition, so yah boo sucks!
Whereupon the leader of the Scottish Nationalists, Alex Fishcake, or whatever he calls himself, came on the radio and had the gall to moan about spoilt ballots, as if every vote for the Jock secessionists isn't by definition a spoilt ballot! That was the point at which I hurled my radio out of the window (a stupid thing to do in one's helicopter, but I was angry).
You see, when I entered Parliament, 20 years ago, most politicians were essentially decent chaps. Admittedly, ministers often had to be evasive and indulge in half-truths, but they didn't enjoy doing so, for they still had some moral standards. That is why I, with my total disregard for such outdated niceties, was able to secretly and consecutively dominate both the Tory and New Labour parties.
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I suppose this proves that the world of politics has changed out of all recognition. Less than 50 years ago the Minister of War had to resign because he lied to the House of Commons about his sordid relationship with a call girl. Yet in this very column I can virtually boast of liaisons with girls who are no better than prostitutes, and nobody bats an ear drum.
This is because the press and the public have such low expectations of us politicians that no matter how ghastly our indiscretions, it just isn't news any more. Instead, the owners of our great national tabloids have been forced to refocus their hypocritical moralistic angst upon those members of the elite not protected by Parliamentary privilege.
Hence the sad fall from grace of that talented businessman and worthy recipient of a New Labour peerage, Lord Browne. (That's Brown with an E, not to be confused with Gordon Brown, who refuses to have anything to do with "E", though God knows a couple of tabs on a Friday night might cheer him up.)
I wish I'd had the chance to advise Lord Browne before all this unpleasantness. I'd have told him it's all right to lie to Parliament and take the country into an unwinnable war, but woe betide you if you put your winkle in the wrong shaped shell.