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.

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.”

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.

“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.”

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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