Thursday, April 30, 2015

Election Diary - Day 32: Sun Stroke

Thursday 30th April
There's a sense of threat in the air. And it's not just the imminent arrival of the Royal Baby.

5.30am
George Osborne was awoken by a phone call from an anonymous number. Groggily, he reached out for his phone, pondered not answering, before thinking that he dare not let any phone call slip by with a week to go until polling day.
“George. I know where the bodies are buried, George,” whispered an unnerving, creepy voice on the other end of the line.
“What?” replied the Chancellor. “How? Look, it was Boris’ idea to have that bacchanal. We didn’t mean to. Things just got strange and out of hand, and then this guy was there…”
“No, no George. Not those bodies. The metaphorical bodies. The fiscal austerity bodies.”
“Danny, is that you?”
“Yes, George. It is I,” replied the Lib Dem Chief Secretary to the Treasury. “Do you remember all those happy times in the Treasury George? Do you? It seems so long ago now, doesn’t it? I’m not going to let you get away with it, George.”
“Away with what?”
“With hiding the child benefit cuts from the electorate. All the children, George. All the poor, little children.”
“Look, Danny…"
“I’ve saved all of your letters George. I keep them in a little box under my pillow. Safe, George. They’re quite safe. But one of them might have found its way to The Guardian.”
“You’re mad Danny. There’s nothing you can gain from this. Nothing. It will just make it harder to form another coalition.”
“But I won’t be in any coalition, will I George?”
Osborne didn’t know how to handle this conversation, and paused trying to think of something to say. Then, suddenly, there was a rat-a-tat-tat heard over the line.
“What was that?” asked George.
“Oh, I was just firing wildly into the air. I like it. It makes me feel… powerful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to book a holiday in mid-May. I’ll be seeing you, Georgey Boy.”

12.00pm
Imagine The Sun and The Scottish Sun are but one person. They are a loud, shouty person, walking into the pub and declaring their opinions as Gospel, in between wolf-whistling and shouting “Phew! What a scorcher!”
Now, imagine this individual walks into a pub in Gretna Green, near the English-Scottish Border, and he finds a table with two men at it. He sits next to them and simply begins.
“Cor, mate. This election mate. Cor. Who you gonna vote for? Who you gonna vote for?”
“I don’t know,” responds an Englander.
“Oh, mate. Its gotta be the Tories mate. Gotta be the Tories. Do you want that Ed Miliband in Downing Street? We can’t let this country be run by the SNP. Can’t let that happen.”
The other person at the table, a Scot, chirps up: “I’m thinking of voting for the SNP.”
Sun man suddenly shifts in his seat to face the Scotsman, and in the course of this puts a Tartan hat on (with attached, ginger wig), and begins to talk in a broad Scottish accent.
“Yeah, pal. Love the SNP. Got to vote for them. Cannae have anyone else. I love that Nicola Sturgeon. She looks like Princess Leia.”
“No she doesn’t,” says the Englishman.
Sun man turns around again, whipping off his hat, and returning to a Cockney accent: “She does in my mind, mate. Phew! What a scorcher!”
That is what The Sun has done today. In Scotland at least, they write the people’s leading articles: they must follow them.

2.15pm
“Hello, this is Kensington Palace. How can I help you?”
“Hello, this is James Harding, Head of BBC News. Wondering if there’s been any movement on the baby front.”
“No. We’ll let you know if there is anything.”
“You see, we’re wondering if this can be moved on a little.”
“Moved on?”
“Well, there’s this election in a week’s time.”
“Is there? We don’t give much attention to elections here. Clarence House does. Their Letter Writing Department need to know which name to put on the envelopes.”
“Well, if this child should clash with the election, it will put an unbearable strain on our news staff.”
“As unbearable as having an entire human being emerging from your lower regions?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, the Duchess does and she couldn’t give a toss about your concerns.”
“Could you see if there’s anything you could do?”
“All I can say, Mr Harding, is stand by your beds.”

4.49pm
Rumours continue to be rife that the Royal Baby is on its way, particularly after Kensington Palace gave us this amusing tweet.
The news is greeted by the party leaders, preparing for tonight’s Question Time.
Nick Clegg says: “If it’s true, this is terrible news. It will distract from tonight’s Question Time.”
Ed Miliband says: “If it’s true, this is terrible news. It will distract from tonight’s Question Time.”
And David Cameron says: “If it’s true, this is wonderful news. It will distract from tonight’s Question Time.”

 Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Election Diary - Day 31: "Bang Up Those Lying Tories", say Shifty-Looking Tories

Wednesday 29th April
The Tories unveil their short-term masochistic plan.

7.30am
Harsh new laws are required to ensure that the Tories keep their promises. That is according to the Tories, and this morning they have announced that they will pass a law ensuring that they cannot raise VAT, National Insurance, or Income Tax.
George Osborne has told us that we can be sure that this promise will be kept. Sure, George, but what about all your other promises? Won’t you have to pass laws making it illegal for you to not keep them? That should take up about half the Parliament, and then you can get on with actually implementing your programme, or governing as it’s sometimes called.
Unveiling the lock, Osborne said “We here in the Conservative Party believe in clamping down on liars, bounders and cads like the Conservative Party. It’s part of our short-term masochistic plan. We are going to bind ourselves to this commitment and, if we contradict ourselves, we will bring the full force of the law crashing down on ourselves. That is, unless we change the law again.”
The suggested sanctions for the new law range from being sent to the Headmaster, to the cessation of tuck, to having Grant Shapps become your official biographer.

8.15am
Ed Balls has reacted to the Tories reinforced pledge on not raising VAT.
“I think there’s a good phrase in the English language: once bitten, twice shy,” he says, from his fortress of irony.
Ed, if we are once bitten, twice shy, where the hell does that leave you?

9.22am
There is no denying the fact that the parties are trading in calm, considered engagement for a blunter instrument, akin to them trying to persuade voters by banging them over the head with an inflatable hammer, repeatedly. It's “Project Fear” from all sides, and so, once again, we’ve got a load of Balls to get through.
The Shadow Chancellor has been depicting a dystopian vision of the terrible future under a Conservative Government: “Not only will they cut neighbourhood policing and your NHS, they will come around to your house at night and smash up the place, and then sneeze all over you and give you Spanish Flu, and laugh at your pain because there’s no police to stop them and no GP to treat you, and then they'll raise VAT and send themselves to jail, but there won't be any jails to go to, because they've all be sold to private companies, and be turned into Travelodges! This is the Britain the Conservatives stand for!"

10.25am
Not to be outdone, David Cameron is launching his own “Project Fear”, by saying “I’ve seen the books. I know what needs to be done.”
He keeps on repeating “I’ve seen the books”, again and again, in a harrowed, distant tone. “I’ve seen the books”, “I’ve seen the books”; before eventually he says "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time... like tears in rain...”
Strong stuff, and all delivered with Cameron’s continuing infectious enthusiasm. Look at the rapturous faces behind him:

That there is the power of charisma.
Incidentally, the Lid Dems don’t do Project Fear. They are too upbeat for that. They do Project Total Denial.

1.20pm
Ruth Davidson, Conservative Leader in Scotland, is Scottish and likes Margaret Thatcher., and she doesn’t care who knows it. She’s out, loud and proud, and in a tank. Just like Maggie. Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough.

4.39pm
The Mili-Brand video is out, and what it consists of is one person who lives in a world of well-meaning vagueness, talking to another person who lives in a different world of well-meaning vagueness, culminating in them vaguely agreeing about life and setting the world to rights. It’s a late-evening chat from university basically.
What’s really odd is that Ed Miliband adopts Tony Blair’s physicality, legs splayed, resting his left-hand on his knee, whilst firmly gesticulating with his right. Then he begins to talk in Mockney (in his own way): “Look! I’m not diminishin’ Ruper’ Murdoch, righ’.”
Ed assures Russell that he’s a man who stands up to Rupert Murdoch.  For those who can’t recall what Ed Miliband standing up to Rupert Murdoch looks like, here’s a picture of him doing so last summer:
Tomorrow, Russell is interviewing Natalie Bennett and Caroline Lucas of the Greens, and he says that he is going to them because they are “women”. Right… Viva la Revolución!

Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Election Diary - Day 30: Mili-Brand

Hats off to The Guardian for this
Tuesday 28th April
Move over Milifandom. You have been taken over by the Revolution. And the new face of the Revolution, is Her Majesty's Leader of the Opposition.

 6.00am
It was a rude awakening this morning for Ed Miliband, as he was banged over the head with a pillow by his wife Justine.
“What is it Justine?” he asked, deploying his smouldering eyes in a bid to calm her.
“You’re a bastard, Ed.”
“What have I done?”
“What were you doing at Russell Brand’s house last night?” she demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Justine shoved her iPhone in his face, where there was a tweet showing the Labour Leader leaving Russell Brand’s house.

“You told me you were going to a meeting of the Fabian Society!” she said in almost a whisper of barely suffused rage. “What were you doing there? Comparing notes on how best to deal with your respective groupies like a couple of deviants?”
“No! Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but we had to keep it top secret. He’s going to endorse me in the election.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“Ed,” said Justine. “How stupid do you think I am?”
“It’s the truth.”
“But, Ed, that’s the most batshit crazy idea ever. Your problem is that people don’t know if they can trust you with the country, and you’re claiming that you’re trying to consolidate your position with the endorsement of some candy-floss anarchist. In a way, it would be better if you were just having a meeting of the Unlikely Sex Symbol Society.”
“I promise it’s true. I’ll ring up Rusty and he’ll tell you all about Mili-Brand.”
“What?”
“Mili-Brand. It’s kind of our thing.”
“Ed, I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“I am Vice President of the Revolution – Establishment Branch.”

11.00am
Happy Ed Balls Day! 28th April is the anniversary of the seminal Twitter moment when Ed Balls produced this tweet:

As a special present for the man today, the Office of National Statistics has announced that growth for the first quarter was 0.3%, representing a slowdown. Nothing makes Ed Balls happier than disappointing economic news he’s not responsible for.
However, Ed cannot be cheered because the other Ed’s visit to Rusty has grabbed all of the attention. So, rather than being able to talk about himself, he’s having to answer questions about Russell Brand. This, however, is but a hurdle for Balls to clear.
He says: “I have always been a fan of Russell Brand. And of Ed Balls. I’ve always thought he was funny. Russell Brand that is. But Ed Balls is funny too.”
Having established himself as the centre of attention, Ed then allowed modifiers to dangle. “Every now and then, like any comedian, he fires off left, right and centre and not all of them land. He had a pop at me and I had a go back, but frankly I’m sure if we sat down we could both agree: let’s get the Tories out."
It later transpired that he was talking about Russell here, however this is somewhat at odds with what Ed said in January, where he called Brand a “pound shop Ben Elton”. This isn’t the first time this has happened. Earlier in the election, Balls failed to remember that in January he had raised concerns about abolishing Non-Dom status. It seems that, to Ed, January is just another country of Balls.

12.15pm
David Cameron is still “pumped-up”, and his enthusiasm is infectious, as can be seen on the faces of his crowd here:
He’s talking a lot about GDP, but is ignoring the major issue: would he talk to Russell Brand? His response is definite and grammatically passionate: “Politics and life and election and jobs and the economy is not a joke – Russell Brand’s a joke! Ed Miliband, hang out with Russell Brand, he’s a joke. This is not funny. I haven’t got time to hang out with Russell Brand!”
However, when asked whether he would follow his Deputy PM’s example and go on Channel 4’s late night comedy show, The Last Leg, he says “I’ll give it some thought”. Now, that’s a joke.

3.54pm
The people need answers about Russell Brand. We crave them. It occupies our every waking thought.
Well, Ed Miliband is on hand so that we can understand about Brand. He explains: “I decided that some people were saying the campaign was too boring so I thought it would make it more interesting.”
Well, Mission Accomplished Ed! This is, without a doubt, the most interesting thing to have happened in 30 days of campaigning: you getting into a car outside some guy's house.
The Brand conversation was filmed apparently, and Labour are "looking forward" to the broadcast. Clearly the assessment has been "This election is too full of stage-managed bullshit, so let's replace that with some loopy, celeb-tastic, stage-managed bullshit."

 4.20pm
Ed Balls

 Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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Monday, April 27, 2015

Election Diary - Day 29: The Passion of the Cameron

Monday 27th April
6.30am
“Okay, Dave. We’ve tried many things. We’ve tried aloofness. We’ve tried dullness. We’ve tried anger. None of it has worked, so this week we’re going to go for passion.”
“Right,” replied the Tory leader. “What’s that?”
“Passion?” said his personal aide. “It’s fierce enthusiasm, determination, really strong emotion.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Okay. Just eat these Shredded Wheat and have this Red Bull, whilst I draw you a picture.”

8.00am
Cameron was bursting with energy. He hadn’t felt like this since someone passed snuff around at a Bullingdon Club meeting. At least, he thought it was snuff. He finally felt like he could win this election. 10 days to save his career. And Britain. But mainly the career bit.
The good vibes kept on coming as he read the morning’s papers. It appeared that 5,000 small business leaders had spontaneously signed a letter to The Daily Telegraph, which had spontaneously been written by Conservative Campaign Headquarters. To general astonishment, this letter backed the Tories, and political scientists are still baffled as to why this might be.
This made the PM feel even bouncier. After a month of campaigning, five years of Prime Ministering, and ten years of party leading, David Cameron had finally found a purpose in life.

10.30am
The Tory Leader had bounded his way to the key election battleground of the City of London, where the Tories are defending a pitiful majority of 11,076. Filled with caffeine and fibre, he was booming his voice and pumping his fists, shouting: "We've got a fight on our hands and we're going to win that fight!"
He added: “I’m going to work the hardest I've ever worked in my life this week.” Presumably he’ll need a holiday after all that strain, and he’s heard Whitehall is lovely this time of year.
He came off stage, surrounded by accountants who were thrilled, and there’s nothing more thrilled than a thrilled accountant.
“That was terrific Dave,” said his personal aide.
“Thanks!” shouted Dave. “Where are the gents?”

11.00am
With Cameron going all Henry V on Weetabix, Ed Miliband might have felt the need to up his game. Not a bit of it though, because Ed is cool nowadays, and this morning he was the coolest man in Stockton.
Ed is so confident now that Labour Party events have become like some kind of Rat Pack tribute show. Ed is announced on by a sycophant who tells us how amazing he is, and then the Leader of the Opposition is welcomed by his screaming faithful. He then greets his key supporters in the manner that Dean Martin would acknowledge his band.
“Is Iain Wright here? Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Iain Wright!” he says, leading the applause as he casually leans on his podium, and basks in the glow of his adoring crowd.
One person who doesn’t seem to be totally adoring is his wife Justine. Ed today revealed in London’s Evening Standard that she believes the recent outpouring of lust for him to be the result of a case of mistaken identity. It seems that Ed Miliband's wife is the only person in the country who doesn’t fancy Ed Miliband.

2.01pm
George Osborne took time out to mix paint this afternoon and, in a bid to further invigorate the Tory campaign, he will later deploy it and broadcast a live feed of it drying.

3.15pm
Like the other party leaders, Nick Clegg is in bullish form (the only party leader who isn’t is Natalie Bennett who, in a moment of tragic symbolism, has lost her voice). Today, Mr Clegg declared that “winning is in the Lib Dems’ DNA”, a phrase which involves an odd definition of either “winning”, or “DNA”, or “in”.
Clegg was asked today whether he had been seduced by the title “Deputy Prime Minister” in the 2010 coalition negotiations. He responded that you could call him “Mary Jane” for all he cared, which for a generation brought up on Spider-Man films means someone who stands about in the rain, waiting for someone to kiss them upside down. Strangely apt title then.

5.00pm
A good day for Cameron has been capped off with the latest poll from Lord Ashcroft giving the Tories a 6 point lead.
“YES!” roars DC in the Battlebus. “I haven’t cheered this loudly since Aston Villa last won the league!”
“When was that Dave?” asks an aide.
“I don’t answer those questions.”
Dave sat down exhilarated, before the Red Bull finally wore off, his energy crashed, and he feel asleep.
His personal aide looked on satisfied. “If we can get hold of some Berocca, we might just win this thing.”

Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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Sunday, April 26, 2015

Weekend Election Diary - Days 27 & 28: Boris' Sexual Charisma Threatened By New Kid on the Block

You might have felt a disturbance in the force on Sunday morning, or detected a rip in the sexual continuum. Two alpha males came into close contact, and the ripples were felt far beyond Andrew Marr's studio.

Saturday 25th April
2.03pm
Embarrassment for David Cameron as he forgot which football team he supports. Mr Cameron, who claims an allegiance to Aston Villa, exhorted undecideds to support West Ham. The only possible confusion there is that they both play in claret and blue, but Cameron put the slip down to "brain fade" - similar to the sort of brain fade which saw legions of Londoners forget which red team they supported in the early 90s, as they shifted from Liverpool to Man United.

This raises questions. Does the PM get confused during World Cups and start supporting Germany over England? Is he, in fact, colour blind and decided to become PM because he was frustrated at not being allowed to be a pilot? He would have liked being a pilot. All those stewardesses he could have told to calm down.

There are a few reasons why this may have happened: temporary insanity, sucking up to Karen Brady, or (most likely) not having written the speech himself. I mean one can picture a Tory writer remembering what colour DC's team played in, not bothering to check, and leaving Cameron too embarrassed to admit the mistake.

Alternatively, this utterly harmless and mildly amusing gaffe was down to Cameron's being a devious shit. Or so says Alastair Campbell who believes that this alone is enough to turf the PM out of office.

Campbell should count his blessings, for he is a Burnley fan, and they also play in claret and blue.

Sunday 26th April
8.30am
Boris arrived at New Broadcasting House early for one of his favourite things: seeing the make-up girls on The Andrew Marr Show.
"Good morning Eliza," he bumbled. "I'm afraid you're going to have to tame my lion's mane, and may I say you're looking particularly ravishing this morning."
Eliza was unmoved by Boris' charms. How unusual. Perhaps she'd had an argument with her boyfriend or something like that and needed duplicitous comfort rather than straight out flattery.
"Everything alright?" he inquired.
"Oh yes!" said Eliza, suddenly in a much sunnier mood. "I'm doing that Ed Miliband's make-up later. I'm really looking forward to meeting him."
"What?"
"He's lovely."
Boris was speechless, in that he had nothing to say. Nevertheless, he did some indistinct bumbling to mask this.
"What makes you say that?" he finally said having gathered himself.
"He's dreamy. Caring, sexy, he's got great eyes, and I love that little grey bit at the front of his hair."
Boris was more discombobulated than usual. He could not understand what was going on. He had to assert himself.
"Well, he doesn't have Samson-esque locks like I do."
"I know Boris. I don't know how you live with your hair. It's a nightmare to do. All the girls think so."
Boris started muttering obscenities in Latin.

9.30am
As a result of all of this, Boris was totally off his game in his interview. Then he had to wait until the traditional awkward sofa chat at the end of the show. In the meantime, he watched Ed Miliband’s interview. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't comprehend how this man was found to be attractive. The situation was made all the worse when he overheard Eliza saying "I've got such a crush on him. He can squeeze my middle anytime."
"By the Lightning of Zeus!" Boris bumbled.

9.50am
Then it was onto the sofa - normally such a happy and exciting prospect for Boris, but this time fraught with insecurity and jealousy. As he sat there, he saw Ed wave at Eliza, and then give Boris a smug glance.
He launched into an angry attack on Ed about attacking the rich, but even his subconscious had turned against him, translating every statement into a self-reflexive comment about his manhood.
Miliband was laughing at him. Boris was boiling and blustering, and then Marr (a former challenger to Boris' title of London's Shagger-in-Chief) told him to shut up.

10.12am
Boris got out wondering whether his apparent toppling in sex appeal had anything to do with him. Perhaps word had got about that, at the moment of climax, he made a point of shouting "Veni, vidi, vici".
He had quite enough of all of this, but then he got a phone call from a sobbing Lynton Crosby.
"Are you still at the Beeb, Bojo?"
"No, Lynton."
"Go back!"
"Why?"
"You have to do something. Ed said that I should be fired. He doesn't like me, Boris, and I think I might be in love with him."
"Et tu Lynton?" said Boris. "Then fall, Johnson!"

 Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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Friday, April 24, 2015

Election Diary - Day 26: Cameron Gets the Bollywood Treatment

Friday 24th April
6.00am
The alarm went off, and played “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher. It always played “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher.
Only joking, but the entirety of the election has ground to something of a halt, and no-one feels this more than the pollsters (except maybe daily satirists) , who are currently living in a really boring episode of ER were every day they say “Oh look, it’s flat-lining”.
Journalists, bloggers and others are close to taking matters into their own hands. Krishnan Guru-Murthy is going to roam the country asking politicians awkward and irrelevant personal questions. A potential final debate is going to be replaced with a straight-out drinking contest. And, that Royal Baby needs to arrive, if not later today then on Monday so it can dominate the news-cycle for a bit and distract us from this ghastly, over-arching tedium, with some nice, over-arching tedium.
In the meantime, here’s more excruciatingly stage-managed bullshit.

6.05am
“Ed, I’ve found a speech we could use as a base for your Foreign Policy speech.”
“What does it say?
“It goes on about poor post-conflict planning, greatest loss of international influence in a generation, stuff like that.”
“Where is it from?”
“A Tory candidate in the 2005 election.”

7.00am
The morning's Tory telephone conference was very confusing. It was hell for the transcriber, but here is their work.
Lynton Crosby: Today, we are focussing on English Votes for English Laws.
William Hague: The EVEL plan?
Lynton Crosby: Yes. The EVEL plan.
George Osborne: Not our Evil Plan.
Lynton Crosby: You mean the welfare cuts?
George Osborne: Of course.
Lynton Crosby: No, no. No-one mention our Evil Plan.
Nicky Morgan: Wait. We don’t mention the EVEL plan?
Lynton Crosby: No, no. Everyone mention the EVEL plan. No-one mention the Evil Plan.
George Osborne: Could I hint at the Evil Plan and then laugh maniacally?
Lynton Crosby: No. Why would you do that?
George Osborne: It would scratch an itch.
Boris Johnson: Which Evil Plan are we not to mention?
George Osborne: There’s only one Evil Plan.
Boris Johnson: What if a hypothetical Tory, perhaps with a dashing physicality and flowing locks, were to be confused about our Evil Plan?
George Osborne: How could they get confused about that?
Boris Johnson: Well, many reasons. For instance, he may have Evil Plans of his own.

1.07pm
So, yes, today’s news is heavy and dry and you will all make up your own minds about Ed Miliband's comments on Libya.
As for me, I am reminded of the old adage that there are no votes in foreign policy. There aren’t any laughs in it either.
Unless it comes from The Conservative Friends of India that is, who have brought a streak of tremendous colour to this drab day in the election campaign. They have written a campaign song for the Tories called “Neela hai Aasma”, or “The Sky is Blue”, and it says:
“The Sky is Blue. The Sky is Big. Vote Tory.” (Okay, I added the last bit.)
The pictures in the video can basically be described as The Camerons at Number 42, as we are showered with photos of David Cameron meeting Indian people and being very multicultural. Photos such as this:
 And this:
It is actually the most positive piece of campaigning yet to have been generated by the Tories, focussing on their record and citing positive newspaper headlines.
It ends up like Bride and Prejudice, where Dave is Mr Darcy, and culminates with the catchy chorus line where myriad happy voices chant “David Cameron! David Cameron!”
Here it is:


If the Conservative Friends of India were running the Tory PR machine, the nasty party would be no more. As they say in the song, “Come let’s meet with this colour of blue”.
I don’t know what they mean either, but it’s really sweet. Very catchy. Kind of like being brain-washed by a Tory Shah Rukh Khan.
Here’s the whole thing:

2.01pm
Can't get that bloody "David Cameron! David Cameron!" chorus out of my head.

 2.28pm
David Cameron (yes – him from the music video) has been asked which Cabinet member he would suggest to take over from Daniel Craig as the next James Bond, and he said: "William Hague's fit, he's healthy, he does yoga - he can probably crack a man's skull between his kneecaps."
What the hell went on in Cabinet?
In answer to the same question, Nigel Farage (in a uncharacteristcally egotistical moment for him) suggested himself, and Ed Miliband said Rosamund Pike as the first female Bond, as he continued to flirt with the entirety of the liberal female population.

 4.41pm
“Has Kate gone into labour yet?”
“No.”
Silence.
“David Cameron! David Cameron!”

 The Election Diary will return on Monday morning with a review of the weekend.

 Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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Thursday, April 23, 2015

Election Diary - Day 25: Do You Ever Have Déjà Vu?

Thursday 23rd April
Didn't you just ask me that?

6.00am
The alarm went off, and played “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher. It always played “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher.
Phil Robinson couldn’t quite believe it. Another day? What number was this? Day 25? What sort of tireless bore would cover this shit for 25 days? With 2 weeks more to go? Jesus! He felt so tired.
But he got up and headed to the office of his newspaper.

7.00am
Clocked in on time – through the door at 7am, like every day. What’s on the table today?
A former PM has weighed in. Had that before.
What will the big hitters be talking about? The economy. Had that before.
“Long-term economic plan.” Had that before.
“Cost of living crisis.” Had that before.
“We will support hard-working families.” Had that before. “What does that even mean?” thought Phil. Does Osborne sit there going “Look at all those kids not putting in a shift. Only the families with chimney-sweeping minors get my support.”
“If I hear that one more time,” he muttered, “I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”
“Wait a minute,” he thought. “Didn’t I think this exact same thing yesterday?”

9.30am
Time for Cameron’s morning speech, like every fucking day. And guess what? It’s in front of that same fucking blue background. He doesn’t go anywhere without it. Phil bet that before he goes to take a piss, a team of handymen go in to set up a blue backdrop with “Delivering for Britain” written on it.
Does he say anything new? Does he fuck? He says the same tired catchphrases as previous days. “SNP”, “Labour Debt” – all the old favourites, like some kind of Sinatra concert from purgatory.
Phil really was losing it this morning. He’d definitely seen it all before.

10.30am
The (Independent) Institute for Fiscal Studies is giving a report on all of the parties’ economic plans. And – guess what? They’re all being vague and not telling the truth.
“Well, big woop,” thought Phil. “Even the independent commentators are like stuck records now.”
The report has criticised Labour, the Tories, the Lib Dems and the SNP for providing insufficient plans. This was reported by The Daily Telegraph as “Only a Conservative Government would Balance Books, says IFS”, whilst The Guardian went for “Tories have £30bn black hole in spending plans, says IFS”.
“How stupid do they think we are?” thought Phil. Still – it was the same as every day. EVERY DAY!

1.01pm
Phil was so depressed by lunchtime that he ordered everything. Everything. Burgers, fries, milkshakes, pancakes, eggs, a pot of coffee he drank straight from. He felt a devil-may-care attitude burgeoning within him.
A woman came to him and said “Don’t you worry about cholesterol?”
“I don’t worry about anything,” said Phil.

3.15pm
No-one was doing anything. It was like the parties had all decided not to campaign. Like they’d met in a room and agreed a ceasefire, resulting in a Hung Parliament and everyone refighting it in a few months’ time when the public might be more clear-minded, the indecisive gits.
Then he heard the phrase “Hard-working families” from one of the office TVs, and something clicked.
Phil just got up and walked out of the office.

4.05pm
Phil had tracked down the Labour Campaign Bus, and was just hanging around with his press pass on, biding his time. As soon as the driver nipped out for a fag, Phil jumped in and hijacked the bus and aimed for Dover.

5.01pm
“Don't drive angry. Don't drive angry!” shouted Phil as he tore across the most southerly fields in Kent.
He was now pursued by police cars, police helicopters, news-copters, a demented Norman Smith screaming into his camera “FINALLY! SOMETHING’S HAPPENED!”, a furious Ed Miliband who was shouting something about wanting his pimp wagon back, and a resurgent Jeremy Clarkson sensing an opportunity for career-revival.
The police were trying to hail him down, but Phil knew his escape was nigh. He could see the White Cliffs and he said farewell to St George’s Day by toppling over them in a blaze of glory.

6.00am

The alarm went off, and played “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher. It always played “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher.

Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Election Diary - Day 24: Milifever Reaches the Heart of Tory HQ

Wednesday 22nd April
There's a new condition called Milifever or Milifandom. Symptoms include shortness of breath, elevated heart rate, and inability to handle the too sexiness.

9.00am
Tory Campaign Director Lynton Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young was reaching the end of his tether. He had had enough of these amateurs, and this morning he had to give a dressing down to the amateur-in-chief. He poked his head out of his office.
“Shapps! Get in here! Tuck your shirt in! Do you top button up! And for the love of God, wipe that inane smirk off your face for once!”
“What did you call me in for?” asked the Tory Party Chairman, trying to look innocent.
“Is it true? About Wikipedia?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you, or a proxy of yours, maliciously edit the Wikipedia pages of senior political figures, including many of your cabinet colleagues, and me?”
“No,” said Shapps before his sniggersome grin broadened. “That does sound like a cracking wheeze though.”
“Look here Grant, or should I call you Michael? I don’t know whether you did do it or you didn’t. Regardless, I am going to make you write “I WILL NOT BE A SMUG, ADOLESCENT IDIOT” one hundred times.”
“That’s not fair!” exclaimed Shapps. “My mum’s going to hear about this.”

9.50am
An aide popped his head round Lynton’s door.
“Lynton,” he said. “We have a problem.”
“How? Everything is just rolling along as planned. Meticulously, pedantically planned.”
“It’s Ed Miliband. He’s become a sex symbol.”
“Surely that was a joke?”
“No. It’s very real.”
The aide showed him a twitter trend called #milifandom.
It began with a girl who started a #milifandom and examples of tweets include “I love Ed Miliband so much it hurts” and “I dreamt about Ed last night”. One said: “this all started out as a joke but now i think i legitimately fancy ed miliband” (sic).
The high point of #milifandom is this Vine of the man himself, with the backing of “Careless Whisper”.
“This isn’t a problem,” said Lynton. “This is ridiculous. We don’t need to do anything about this.”
“But Dave isn’t sexy.”
“Well, nothing I can do about that. Get back to work.”
Finally Lynton was left in peace.

10.15am
“That Vine was pretty funny,” thought Lynton. “I’ll watch it again.”
He watched it and a slight and somewhat warm smile broke across his face.

10.45am
Lynton couldn’t stop looking at the Vine of Miliband. He couldn’t understand it.
He would stare into Ed’s eyes and get lost in them. “It’s like he’s looking into my soul,” he’d whisper.
Then he’d pull himself together, but two minutes later he’d be watching it again.

11.25am
This was getting stupid. He couldn’t stop looking at all things Ed. He was trawling through #milifandom, and thinking bitchily about girls who were declaring their love for Ed. It wasn’t that he loved Ed. Of course not. But none of these girls could love Ed as well as he could.
If he did.
Which he didn’t.

12.01pm
To make himself feel better about things, Lynton was now looking at @cameronettes, a pro-David Cameron’s sexiness account.
It transpires that @cameronettes was started by a thirteen year-old girl who says “I actually think that the #milifandom was good at the start. But now its just a place you can go to slag off other politicians #cameronettes” (sic), which is particularly amusing as most of her tweets are, well, slagging off other politicians. However, such a lack of self-awareness could be forgiven in the wake of this tweet:

@cameronettes was a bit of a failure. There was only one picture of Cameron, and it was with One Direction. It wasn’t like @cooledmiliband, which was filled with loads of pictures of Ed looking dead sexy as Don Draper, Elvis and James Bond. Those pictures made Lynton giggle in a girlish sort of way. Others made him go weak at the knees, like this one:

It suddenly struck Lynton that @cameronettes was a little suspicious. It was spiteful, from an anonymous source and slagged off enemies as much as it bigged up its friends.
“No, surely not,” thought Lynton and he dashed across the office.
“What are you up to Grant?” asked Lynton, as the party chairman hastily closed down his Twitter.
“Nothing at all,” said Grant, with that silly grin on his face. "I was just checking up on my hero, John Terry."
Lynton stared at him with nothing short of rage. How dare he be at again? And how dare he be taking the mick out of Ed? Ed was good and pure and true.
“Christ,” thought Lynton, catching himself. “I’m going to go home. I’m not feeling too well.”

3.21pm
Lynton had tried a cold shower, but he could only hear the saxophone from “Careless Whisper” and dream of walking along the beach with Ed.
Lynton was crying. Ed had tweeted the founder of #milifandom. 

Indeed, and what they believe in is that Ed Miliband is a SEX GOD.
The flirt. Ed would never tweet Lynton, he thought.

4.58pm
Lynton’s wife came home to find her husband sitting on the floor, picking the petals off a flower going "He loves me. He loves me not." She asked what was up.
He just looked at her and said “I wish he knew I exist”.
“Who?”
“Ed Miliband.”
“He does know you exist, darling. He hates you.”
“No! YOU LIE! YOU LYING LIAR!” he screamed before running into the bedroom, locking the door and turning some George Michael up to 11.

 Events depicted may differ from actual events. In fact, this is a work of fiction, with some facts. But mostly, it's nonsense.
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