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| Letters From London |
| Humorous Views on London Culture, Royals, Gossip and Politics |
The Cult of Personality...or Not - September 24 2009
“Sarah. It’s my turn to use the audio sleep tape. Give it here.”
“No, no Gordon. It’s Monday. My turn.”
“But we must have personalities before the Labour Conference.”
“I’ll have one before youuuuuu.”
“Oh Sarah. I do believe yours is already starting to develop. How did you get that hysterical
sense of humour? It’s not fair! Give me the bloody tape!”
“Gordon. Have you learned nothing from all the unmentionable – B-l-a-i-r after ten years? Charm,
charisma. Your uncontrollable temper is not an attractive personality trait.”
“I don’t want an attractive trait. I am what I am; revengeful, immature, intractable, incompetent,
humourless, amoral, remote, emotionally paralysed, creepy, dishonest, dithering and totally
without character and I like what I see.”
“I won’t tell, if you won’t.”
All those hours, days, weeks of American spin masters’ efforts to make Gordon Brown human
(now there’s irony for you) have not been a prize-winning success. Vince Cable, Lib Dem’s
treasury spokesperson refers to GB as “a twitching corpse”. Word is that he only has a few
weeks before he is stuffed into a massive sack and unceremoniously sacked.
“Not to worry, Sarah. The speechwriters have me whipping up the conference as a US hologram
for president with crap about Labour values of pro family, workers, children, the poor and British
fairness. I say, fuck Britain. It’s Scotland forever.”
“Indeed, darling…I mean Gordon.”
“Let’s keep Alistair out of this. I get even with Miliband. Ha. The useless little git…the pathetic
novice. And I even almost apologise for creating a more punishing deficit than John Major and
selling my soul to the super rich. Ha. I’ll have my fingers crossed behind my back.”
“Gosh Gordon. You are showing a sense of humour as well. These tapes are brilliant.”
His personality make-over complete and completely transparent, Mr perpetually-pursed-pout
continues to look utterly dower, bored, irritable, annoyed, superior, but now he grins like an
animated hound dog that just chased the family cat into the tumble dryer and shut the door, with
a bit of his own smarminess added for authenticity. Clearly, any electrical Pavlovian technique
has failed in that he continues his cringe-making jaw drop at every breath. Gordon. Stop
breathing.
Now, that’s our Gordon. Et tu Brute?
“Sarah. It’s my turn to use the audio sleep tape. Give it here.”
“No, no Gordon. It’s Monday. My turn.”
“But we must have personalities before the Labour Conference.”
“I’ll have one before youuuuuu.”
“Oh Sarah. I do believe yours is already starting to develop. How did you get that hysterical
sense of humour? It’s not fair! Give me the bloody tape!”
“Gordon. Have you learned nothing from all the unmentionable – B-l-a-i-r after ten years? Charm,
charisma. Your uncontrollable temper is not an attractive personality trait.”
“I don’t want an attractive trait. I am what I am; revengeful, immature, intractable, incompetent,
humourless, amoral, remote, emotionally paralysed, creepy, dishonest, dithering and totally
without character and I like what I see.”
“I won’t tell, if you won’t.”
All those hours, days, weeks of American spin masters’ efforts to make Gordon Brown human
(now there’s irony for you) have not been a prize-winning success. Vince Cable, Lib Dem’s
treasury spokesperson refers to GB as “a twitching corpse”. Word is that he only has a few
weeks before he is stuffed into a massive sack and unceremoniously sacked.
“Not to worry, Sarah. The speechwriters have me whipping up the conference as a US hologram
for president with crap about Labour values of pro family, workers, children, the poor and British
fairness. I say, fuck Britain. It’s Scotland forever.”
“Indeed, darling…I mean Gordon.”
“Let’s keep Alistair out of this. I get even with Miliband. Ha. The useless little git…the pathetic
novice. And I even almost apologise for creating a more punishing deficit than John Major and
selling my soul to the super rich. Ha. I’ll have my fingers crossed behind my back.”
“Gosh Gordon. You are showing a sense of humour as well. These tapes are brilliant.”
His personality make-over complete and completely transparent, Mr perpetually-pursed-pout
continues to look utterly dower, bored, irritable, annoyed, superior, but now he grins like an
animated hound dog that just chased the family cat into the tumble dryer and shut the door, with
a bit of his own smarminess added for authenticity. Clearly, any electrical Pavlovian technique
has failed in that he continues his cringe-making jaw drop at every breath. Gordon. Stop
breathing.
Now, that’s our Gordon. Et tu Brute?
