Edition 2 Part 1

ClemAntics the Blog which seeks to tickle, inform and challenge  Edition 2

Clement Atlee, British Prime Minister 1945-1951. was a politician, who acted in the best interests of the country, not himself, or his Party and for whom the phrase

“….all in it together…” meant exactly what it says.

Where better to start than with some words of wisdom from the man himself:

No social system will bring us happiness, health and prosperity unless it is inspired by something greater than materialism.

In this edition

◦   3 Bozos in a Boat part 2

◦   Immigration: the Narrative/the Reality

◦   A book at Bedtime - Rupert and the Unaccompanied Asylum-seekers

The 3 Bozos Part 2

Scene 3 – The Operations Room

( The Maytrex walks up and down swishing a cane. Hammond is lying under the Maytrex's desk. On seeing Porcamis he emits a long low growl)

H: Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

M.                (Turns away from the Brexiteers to stand in front of a life size portrait of the Iron Lady) Come in Boys, make yourselves uncomfortable

Porcamis: Ave Maytrex Magnifica

(impatiently) Porcamis, I have told you before not to address me in Latin. Daddy told me always to beware of Catholics speaking Latin. (She includes Foxos in her sweeping look of disapproval). Yes, Foxy I have read your biography as well as checked yourexpenses...

Porcamis, Have you combed your hair this morning?

P: Nein Meine Maytrexfuhrer.

M: That's enough Porcamis. You can save all that blarney for Frau Meerkat. Just speak plain English like everyone else. (Apart from Davros, of course, whose South London patois endears him to what Daddy called the 'Great Unwashed'.)

Now you may be wondering why I have called the 3 of you here together, drawing you away from your busy Departments

(the 3 raise there eyebrows and look sheepishly at each other; Hammond gives four staccato barks followed by a yowl – clearly this is ironic dog laughter)

Frankly, you have all disappointed me. It has not so much been a lacklustre performance as a total disaster.

Porcamis you seem to spend your time working out one-liners in 27 different European languages without noticing no-one is laughing. Least not Michel Barmier. If you're not doing that you're penning rude limericks about goats and the Turkish premier

Davros – not content with being caught smooching Diane Abbess, you then show yourself to be geo-political moron by thinking the Republic of Ireland is part of the UK

Foxos – you've simply gone missing in action. Just Foxed off.

(The Brexiteers rise as one in order to prepare their posteriors for the cane)

(The Maytrex places the cane with deliberation on the desk)

M; I'm afraid, gentlemen, I am not going to satisfy that strange schoolboy urge. I am about to give you one last chance.

(Maytrex turns to Hammond, who in a state of excitement is now out from under the desk.)

M: Hammond I want you to go and get the three envelopes from Madam Fi-Fi. Go fetch, boy!

(Hammond goes off, returning with 3 brown envelopes carefully held between his teeth.)

M: No, these are the ones with P45s in should the Boys' EU commission fail. Go fetch the ones with 'Mission Improbable' written on the outside.

(Hammond looks confused but on Maytrex's command wanders off again. He returns, his tail wagging, with 3 more envelopes.)

Maytrex checks that these are the right ones; with a flourish she hands one to each of the Brexiteers. Drawing herself imperiously to her full height on the snake skin high heels sent to her by Nicky Morganna (aka the Wild One) as a peace offering. She begins

M: Your commission, should you accept it , (not that you have any choice) is to boldly go where no Eurosceptic has been before;

D: No, surely not Brussels?

Maytrix ignores this interruption

M: and bring back as many bargaining chips as you can fit into your stealth boat.

All: Stealth boat?! 

M: Well come on you duffers open your envelopes and read …

P: Mine says 'strictly confidential – pillow talk and Ugandan discussions to be avoided at all costs'

D: Mine says 'Secret  E.Mission to sail up the Scheldt to Brussels. Purpose - to gather intelligence so that the Matrex can grab Barmier by the Junkers so he'll be begging for a 'quickie' divorce settlement on any terms Maytrex cares to name. The  Brexiteers are to leave for Antwerp immediately. A boat will be awaiting them at the Port. It is crucial that initial manoeuvres are undertaken under cover of darkness so that no-one knows that the Brexiteers are in Europe.'

P: Oh this is exciting – a nocturnal E-mission – I haven't had one of those since House Matron at Eton got young Porcos over-stimulated one night. The Eton Rifle went off with a bang that night, I can tell you!

M: Porcamis, I don't know what you're talking about. Just be quiet.

P: Muet comme une tombeau, Chef.

(Hammond growls his disapproval. Maytrex continues)

M: The operation is code named Rhino-Tusk

D.                 Oh, I like that; very witty.

 (All join in the guffaws including Hammond. Maytrex glares, clearly not seeing the joke)

M: So any questions?

F: I assume expenses are fully claimable and it's OK to rent out my London flat to a friend while I'm away – (Foxos fawns) austerity expenses of course ?

M: Hammond will take care of all that, won't you boy?

H: (self importantly) woof; woof!

D: How long will we be away, meine Leaderene? Dammit; Porcos has got me at it now!

M.                (Maytrex replies her tone, one of mystery) Oh you must take as long as it takes -  as long as you are back for the approval vote in 2019. Of course, I may call an election while you're away but we won't want to call you back for that – your mission is of far greater importance.

M: Right if there are no more questions, go and prepare, Gentlemen. England expects...

P: What a wheeze; what a brilliant wheeze! Just the 3 of us out there rogering the whole bally EU!

M: Oh just one more thing. There will be 4 of you.

All: What 4?

M: I'll tell you what for. We need someone with brains on this mission so Hammond will be going along too.

All:  (they all groan) Not Spreadshit...

(Hammond rolls onto his back in front of Maytrex, adopting his most supplicatory pose and howls pitifully- it is indeed a dog's life)

Exeunt Brexiteers; Hammond is still whimpering as the door to the Operations Room closes.)

M: (in a low voice) remember Hammond – a complete news blackout as far as the 3 Liabilities are concerned. No news must reach them about what is happening on this side of the Channel, there's a good boy.

H: (conspiratorially) woo-oooff

Scene 4

The 3 Bozos have been deposited at St. Pancras International where they take the Europhobe to Lille. They cross the platform at Lille to board the Antwerp Flyer. The Bozos are surprised that no-one seems interested in 2 old farts, a fat slob with a ridiculous hair-do, all 3 being on a lead held by a dog.

Later in Belgium the Flyer is held on a light outside Antwerpen Centraal.

Davros: Well this really is too bad. This train is over an hour late; These Eurochappies don't know how to run a railway. Now, I travel to and from my constituency on Northern Rail – efficient; comfortable; customer-friendly – that's what I call a railway!

Porcamis: (smirking at Davros' ignorance) Northern Rail is run by Deutsche Bahn, old boy!

D: Well; harrumph; it's nowhere near as good as Chiltern Railway – the only way to get from the mean streets of Tooting Bec, where if you remember I was brought up, to The Second City.

P: Also run by Deutsche Bahn, Old Boy!

D: Come to think of it the best train journey I had was on Scot Rail when Foxos invited me up to do some beating in the Grouse season...

P: Run by Abellio, I'm afraid, old boy

D: Italians, they have their snouts into every trough

P: Dutch actually.

D: Dutch? You'll never find an Italian going Dutch; they will free-load at the drop of a Roma Fedora – why else were they founder members of the EU crap shoot?

P: (losing patience) No Davros, my dear old prolish chum, Abellio is a Dutch company, which runs Scotrail

D: (losing interest in the conversation) Anyway, where is Foxos I haven't seen him since we left St. Pancras. For some reason Ham'n'Eggs entrusted the envelope with instructions about the mission to Foxy.

(Foxos's head appears over the edge of the luggage rack, where he is stretched out amongst the cases and baggage)

Foxos: I'm up here ye hoary old Sassenach.

D: What are you doing up there , Foxos?

P: Foxos always does this when he is away on manoeuvres. He's travelling as my luggage; that way he can travel free and still claim a first class rail ticket when he gets back home.

(Foxos climbs down from the rack; he fumbles in his jacket pocket and produces an envelope marked 'Not on any account to be opened before reaching Antwerp'

Foxes dangles the envelope teasingly before Porcamis and Davros)

Foxos: Now strictly speaking, I shouldn't open this before we are on the platform...

P & D: (together) Go on Foxy, we're already in the City of Diamonds, even if we are stuck in a god-awful siding

D: ( In his best South London voice) Go on Foxy, you're a diamond geezer give us a butcher's

F: I love it Davros when you do that stuff... (Foxos ostentatiously tears at the envelope)

Ham-it-up: (threateningly) Grr. Woof ! Grrr woof! Grr woof woof woooooff...

(Davros aims a kick at Hammond-the-dog's flank)

D: That's how we treat mongrels down on the council estate in Tooting Bec (Did I tell you that's where I grew up?) and we give  threatening dogs a hard time too!

H: whimper; whimper; woof-woof whimper

(Ham'n'Eggs crawls under the train seat)

(Foxos produces a crumpled piece of paper with a picture of the Maytrix and Phil-at-Home smiling and holding hands. Below this touching photo is a short instruction)

Foxos : (with an exaggerated air of self-importance) On arrival at Antwerpen Centraal. Take a taxi to  True Blue Pussycats in the SchwippersKwartier.

P: (interrupting; he can hardly contain his excitement) O Homines Felices (O lucky men)We are in luck my little band of brothers. That address is right in the middle of the Red Light district. Porcamis' Johnson did sterling service there in '82 on a charity shagathon with the Bullers. Good old Maytrix – I take back everything I said.

F: (ignoring the interruption) You will need a password to gain admission to TBC. One of your key contacts will be on the door. He will issue you with a challenge (sic) ' Is Junker a big Ploncker?' to which you must reply : ' Yes, indeed. But Maytrix the Magnificent is strong and stable'

F: Once inside you will be taken care of by one of my closest secret allies. This letter will self destruct in 30 seconds...

P: Taken care of; I like the sound of that (winks at the other 2 Bozos)

F: I don't want to put a damper on your enthusiasm, Porky – and indeed I would hope to find something to my taste at True Blue Pussycats but isn't it difficult to claim full expenses for an overnight stay in a Bordello?

Scene 5

The Maytrix and Phil-at-Home are enjoying a bargain weekend break de-toxing at St. Kay Kanneatit C of E Priory.

Maytrix: (stretching out languidly on a grassy sward) Phil, we must do this more often; just you and I relaxing together; alone and away from the hurly burly.

You know it's not easy being Europe's most powerful woman...

P-a-H: (Looking up from the stocks and shares page of the Torygraph) Oh, dearest I thought that was Angela Meerkat?

M: (ignoring Phil's comment) It's not easy being the most successful woman in British politics..

P-a-H: (reaching for his Deutsche Asset management portfolio) Oh, dearest I thought that was

Nicola Stir—it-up.

M: (wistfully plucking a nearby dandelion clock) Well, it's certainly not easy being the darling of the Tory Party.

P-a-H (reluctantly putting down his copy of 'The 10 best Hedge Fund Scams') I thought that was Mrs T, dearest, even though the old dragon has been dead for years now.

M: Pip, you are a tease! (Maytrix blows at her dandelion clock)They elect me (PUFF)

They elect me not (PUFF)

They elect me (PUFF)

They elect me not (BIG PUFF)

THEY ELECT ME!

That's it ! It's settled! I'm going to the country...

P-a-H: (breaks off from reading Bank Technology News)What an election with the Untrusty Bozos away?

M: Exactly. A landslide that will bury all 3 of them! (Maytrix stands up; drawing herself up to her full height, she reaches into her handbag; Maytrix produces a Mrs. T. wig and plonks it on her head. She turns triumphantly to Phil.

M: Remind you of anyone???