|Humorous Views on London Culture, Royals, Gossip and Politics
Not the 'C' Word... 15 October 2007
No longer a thrown down gauntlet, a duel at dawn - it’s a playground punch up.
Conservative leader chameleon Cameron and coward PM Gordon Brown have been mixing and
matching policies and spinning faster than a circus performer grasping a strap between his teeth.
Before we have time to climb out of our seats, their popularity will be based solely on their hair.
Helmet vs quiff.
“I came up with inheritance tax breaks first, you - nail biter, nail biter.”
“You did not, you supercilious toff. And it’s mister nail biter to you!”
“You big girl’s blouse. We’re winning, we’re winning. Na na na na na na.”
“Well Dave. Then why am I prime minister and you’re not.”
“Because Tony consented…but not for long Geordie, I mean Gordie.”
The Sunday Telegraph has given the Tories their biggest lead for 15 years - 43 points to 36 over
Labour. They must be over the moon. If only. This is the direct result of Gordon’s decision to rule
out the snap autumn election he had alluded to endlessly before “I’m the new Blair” Dave gave
‘the performance of a lifetime’ at the Tory Party Conference. Instead of reading verbatim from
his notes for 67 minutes, he merely glanced at his crib sheet. Every print journalist, every news
reader rolled over like a submissive puppy on its first day in the park when threatened by a
snarling, foaming pit bull off its lead. Pathetic. They were simultaneously aghast and impressed
that Eton educated Dave could memorise the drivel that he passionately espoused. Could they all
be in the pocket of maniacal Rupert Murdoch?
While Dave has demonstrated that he would say absolutely anything, do anything, including a
willingness to sell his mother, father, wife, children, dog and his soul to get the Tories in power,
Gordon hides behind the lace curtains the moment there is need for a position to be taken, a
decision to be made. Chameleon + cowardly = lack of character. And then there is the other ‘c’
Kate “he’s lucky to have me” Middleton solidified her future role as Queen of England in
camouflage by clearly expressing sheer joy, enthusiasm and excitement at the possibility that she
could bag a stag at Balmoral at the weekend. Lovely. Picture a stunningly majestic antler-ed
stag. Picture giddy Kate hugging a bolt-action rifle equipped with a telescopic sights and a
silencer. Picture her previously-tediously-coiffed mane pulled back - obviously unaware the
courted press were hiding in the scrub.
“Shoot. Shoot to kill, Kate.”
“Erm, can’t I just wound him a bit? I don’t want to beat Wills the first time out, do I.”
“It’s your call.”
“Alright. Alright. Hand over that AK47 and step back. I’m going to blast its bloody head off.”
Kate Machiavellian Middleton has told friends to look for an engagement when she will bag
William by Christmas. Over a stag’s dead body?
And then there is yet another ‘c’ word…. Kate’s new best mentor, Camilla, who has gone white.
“Make me look like a queen, I mean Helen Mirren.”
“But your majesty, doesn’t Prince Charles prefer you as a Farrah Fawcett fantasy?”
“Prince? You mean bloody-minded toad!”
Camilla is in a sulk. Sulking since Diana won the day at her own memorial service; sulking that
her new platinum locks have aged her further than her life style; sulking over riotous rows with
Chas; retreating to her own manor house.
Charming, are they not? Oh. Did you think I was referring to that ‘c’ word…?