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| Letters From London |
| Humorous Views on London Culture, Royals, Gossip and Politics |
Going, Going, Going, Not Gone - 12 May 2007
TTFN Tony. Tony Blair promises to leave office after 10 years of glam-rock-government June
27…this year. He will most likely be off amassing his first £10 million June 28…this year. For
those who are experiencing panic attacks at the very thought, let alone image, of the Prime
Minister in-waiting, Gordon Brown, fear not…hope is at hand. Hope in the form of Tony-in-Tory
clothing, Conservative leader, toff David Cameron.
The “Phoney Tony” persona has been stolen and duplicated by Chameleon Cameron through
Tony’s gestures, language, policies, attire: we are witnessing a veritable cloning. Tony has a wiry
tuft of hair – Dave has of late taken to sporting a Tintin quiff. In reality, the two could be duelling
spin-masters, open-shirted style-makers, posh poseurs for the people…separated at birth.
But Dave is no Tony. Sharing shirts and the slant on spin is no guarantee of a Conservative take-
over. Although he may be a silver-tongued-toff, a great communicator he isn’t; more in mind of a
slick insurance salesmen. “Long-term life insurance? You say you are 68? No Problem. Do I
have the policy for you.” Is that wool pull-over being pulled over my eyes? I think not, Dave.
Toff Tory Dave is secure in his skin, his three-unbuttoned bespoke shirts, his casual trousers.
Vacuity and Eton ooze from his newly cleansed pores. Tories have made no inroads in the
middle of the country, even disguised as wolves in Labour’s clothing. So, Dave is off to visit the
midland folk to alter his pleasing, but too posh image. He has taken to hanging out with Asians in
Birmingham. Middle class of course. Not ready to ‘hug his hoodie’ just yet.
Now Gordon has elbowed his way into the fray as Mr Personality personified. Smiling to Gordon
is anathema. He looks like he is in absolutely agony…bordering on torture. "No! No! Not the grin...
not the grin! Here. Pull my fingernails instead. Oh. Wait. I bite them to the nub, don't I?" Still he
persists with ear to ear grins all ’round: chortling, guffawing, gurgling - we are dangerously
getting closer and closer to back slapping and air-kissing every day. Lest we forget, GB spends
all his holidays in America. I suspect when he starts toting cowboy boots and a Stetson, we
should really be scared. However, we have been assured that he much prefers the Waspish
enclaves of The Cape in Massachusetts. Puritan purity versus Texan tawdry. “Yo, Blair! I’m over
here!”
“Gordon! Not in front of the children!” “Oh. Sorry, Darling. What was I thinking? Me without my
tie!" “Indecent! I mean, indeed.” Gordon is never seen without what looks suspiciously like an
M&S £99 washable suit, white non iron shirt and tie; rather like an undertaker. Gordon shows no
evidence of warming to those still breathing. He has a subtle, sinister aura about him. Expect him
to visit Lego Land dressed in his standard attire.
Mind you, the new Gordon has throw caution to the winds and has been seen wearing his suit
with a light blue tie. New Gordon is just that sort of new guy. He’s an “I love the Artic Monkeys,”
sort of guy, didn’t you know. Right. No one seems to have any idea what Gordon stands for, who
Gordon is inside his ubiquitous black suit - even after ten years of passing himself off as a crucial
player for New Labour. We know he is calculating, controlling, cantankerous, cold, character-
missing, credit-grabbing, contrary and charmless. And then there is that ‘jaw drop’ he does at
the end of every other word. Aughhhhhh.
That’s enough for me. I think I might be missing tony Tony already. Oh look. There’s Tony. No.
It's Dave. The transformation has been a success.
TTFN Tony. Tony Blair promises to leave office after 10 years of glam-rock-government June
27…this year. He will most likely be off amassing his first £10 million June 28…this year. For
those who are experiencing panic attacks at the very thought, let alone image, of the Prime
Minister in-waiting, Gordon Brown, fear not…hope is at hand. Hope in the form of Tony-in-Tory
clothing, Conservative leader, toff David Cameron.
The “Phoney Tony” persona has been stolen and duplicated by Chameleon Cameron through
Tony’s gestures, language, policies, attire: we are witnessing a veritable cloning. Tony has a wiry
tuft of hair – Dave has of late taken to sporting a Tintin quiff. In reality, the two could be duelling
spin-masters, open-shirted style-makers, posh poseurs for the people…separated at birth.
But Dave is no Tony. Sharing shirts and the slant on spin is no guarantee of a Conservative take-
over. Although he may be a silver-tongued-toff, a great communicator he isn’t; more in mind of a
slick insurance salesmen. “Long-term life insurance? You say you are 68? No Problem. Do I
have the policy for you.” Is that wool pull-over being pulled over my eyes? I think not, Dave.
Toff Tory Dave is secure in his skin, his three-unbuttoned bespoke shirts, his casual trousers.
Vacuity and Eton ooze from his newly cleansed pores. Tories have made no inroads in the
middle of the country, even disguised as wolves in Labour’s clothing. So, Dave is off to visit the
midland folk to alter his pleasing, but too posh image. He has taken to hanging out with Asians in
Birmingham. Middle class of course. Not ready to ‘hug his hoodie’ just yet.
Now Gordon has elbowed his way into the fray as Mr Personality personified. Smiling to Gordon
is anathema. He looks like he is in absolutely agony…bordering on torture. "No! No! Not the grin...
not the grin! Here. Pull my fingernails instead. Oh. Wait. I bite them to the nub, don't I?" Still he
persists with ear to ear grins all ’round: chortling, guffawing, gurgling - we are dangerously
getting closer and closer to back slapping and air-kissing every day. Lest we forget, GB spends
all his holidays in America. I suspect when he starts toting cowboy boots and a Stetson, we
should really be scared. However, we have been assured that he much prefers the Waspish
enclaves of The Cape in Massachusetts. Puritan purity versus Texan tawdry. “Yo, Blair! I’m over
here!”
“Gordon! Not in front of the children!” “Oh. Sorry, Darling. What was I thinking? Me without my
tie!" “Indecent! I mean, indeed.” Gordon is never seen without what looks suspiciously like an
M&S £99 washable suit, white non iron shirt and tie; rather like an undertaker. Gordon shows no
evidence of warming to those still breathing. He has a subtle, sinister aura about him. Expect him
to visit Lego Land dressed in his standard attire.
Mind you, the new Gordon has throw caution to the winds and has been seen wearing his suit
with a light blue tie. New Gordon is just that sort of new guy. He’s an “I love the Artic Monkeys,”
sort of guy, didn’t you know. Right. No one seems to have any idea what Gordon stands for, who
Gordon is inside his ubiquitous black suit - even after ten years of passing himself off as a crucial
player for New Labour. We know he is calculating, controlling, cantankerous, cold, character-
missing, credit-grabbing, contrary and charmless. And then there is that ‘jaw drop’ he does at
the end of every other word. Aughhhhhh.
That’s enough for me. I think I might be missing tony Tony already. Oh look. There’s Tony. No.
It's Dave. The transformation has been a success.
