Diary of a Nobody by Nadim Zahawi
(after George and Weedon Grossmith)
Foreword:
Is it really only a few weeks since I shot out of obscurity
into the stratosphere? I think, without being immodest, that history will judge
that Brexshit would not be the success it is without me. I present my diaries,
which cover those heady days in Early Spring 2019 as a gift to the people regardless
of whether they were Glorious Brexshiters or just Losers!
February 20th
9.00a.m.
I am down at the Stratford Tac n’ Sac Equine Superstore
being fitted for my new Hunting Pink Jacket ready for the local Spring
Gymkhana (I must say I look gorgeous)
when my mobile goes off. My novelty horse-whinny ringtone startles the young
wench serving me but she takes her cue from me and laughs heartily saying ‘You
are a wag, Member of Parliament for the Said Constituency!’
Imagine my amazement when a voice at the other end of the
phone (male) says ‘Number 10 here!’ I rack my brains for who Number 10 is but
come up with nothing. Luckily the voice continues without me replying.
‘PM has been reviewing your CV (by the way, it’s not
necessary to send it in quite so frequently). ’
‘If this is about my expenses’
I interrupt ‘I have already explained about tax payers money going to my Riding
School ‘
‘No,No,No!’ Number 10 insists.
He goes on to tell me
that Maybot is impressed by my business acumen; she particularly likes the way
I have taken the opportunity to milk Buy-to-Let. She thinks I am wasted at
Children & Families, (Children- don’t ya love ‘em; families – aren’t they
just the best!!) besides which, she thinks I have no idea what the post is all
about. Number 10 wants my sound business
sense at the heart of government.
Getting to the point, Number 10 asks me whether I would like
to come on board ‘Operation Market Gaderene’ (OMG). Now, if I say so myself, I
am a bit of an expert on WW2 history as I mugged up on it before the
Constituency Candidate Selection Meeting
(the interview panel I was informed was full of old buffers, who still thought
the war was on).
‘Surely you mean Operation Market Garden’ I correct. I am a little shocked when Number 10 comes
back with
‘No, you bloody fool we want to make sure that the
Brexshiter Swine keep charging over the Brexshit cliff’. Market Gaderene – geddit?
The PM wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning. Are you in?’
‘Of course, I’m in’ I’m thinking; but I have my red-lines too. I inform number
10 that I can’t do tomorrow as I’m going to see my stallion cover a mare.
Forgetting I’m on the phone, I wink as I tell him that nothing gets the juices
flowing like seeing a stallion hard at work!!
Number 10 replies ‘Be here at 8.00a.m. Tomorrow.’
February 15th
Didn’t sleep well last night. Over-excited at the prospect
seeing the PM. Will she be wearing those ‘hot’ leopard skin shoes?
8.00a.m.
Ushered into a pokey office at no 10 (not what I had been
expecting) to be told that PM has had to leg it over to Brussels as ‘Barmy’ Barmier
has whistled her up. I have to make do with an aide.
Aide Seema (of the ‘simples’ meerkat jape) tells me all
about OMG. Jolly interesting. Apparently PM wants me to field all the media
questions on her ‘Deal’ (or Double D as Seema puts it – Diabolical Deal – tee.
hee!!)
Seema says I’m ‘The
only man for the job’ because, and I quote, ‘others can only appear not to have
understood the question when giving a ‘blocking’ answer whereas you really
don’t understand the questions’
February 22nd
10.00am
Photo shoot for Horse & Hound – White breeches, swishing
riding crop- I look gorgeous as usual. Shoot interrupted by phone call from
Secretary of the Presidents Club enquiring why I had not renewed my membership.
I said I was sorry to inform him that while I enjoyed the all-male-tit-and-bum
event last year at the Dorchester enormously, number 10 thought it would be ’ill-advised’
to renew. He seemed a bit put out so I retorted ‘Well how do you think I feel!’
March 6th
6.00a.m. Woken early by a call from Number 10. Was
not best pleased as I was in the middle of a gorgeous dream where I was triumphantly clearing the
final Tusk Water Jump at the Brexit International Gymkhana in Brussels. To
cheers (and yet more cheers) from the Excrement Recycling Group (ERG) Tusky
announces ‘and Zahawi on ‘No Deal’ goes
clear.’
Number 10 wants me to get on down to the Beeb for Politics
Live at 11.15. ‘Last man standing again!’
is my witty riposte (Note to self: explore possibilities of Stand-Up,
should the balloon go up!).
Number 10 manages a chortle (No. 10 is a humour-free zone, I
fear!). He enigmatically replies ‘Well, I have made 10 unsuccessful calls
already!’ Number 10 exhorts me not to worry (worry! Hadn’t entered my head)
because no one bothers to watch ‘Politics Live’
11.00 Arrive breathlessly at the Beeb. I’m in such a
hurry I leave my lucky riding crop in the taxi.
Taxi Driver was an amusing African Caribbean fellow; said he
recognised me ‘from the telly’. I informed him that I was a Senior Member of
the Government. He said ‘ I know – Sajid Javid- then he added thoughtfully ‘But
you baldy men do all look alike.’
Once in the Beeb, I’m hurried through make-up, where they
slap on some orange make-up. Make-up artist (mobile number now added to my ‘for
your eyes only’ list of favourites) tells me that orange is going to be my
signature colour. (This will up-set Andrew Neal!!)
11.15 Meet with the delightful Jo Coburn just before
we go on air. She looks rather chichi but my lips are buttoned (as per no.10’s
orders).
I’m wearing one of my musical ties, for which I’m rightly
celebrated. It plays "He Played His Ukulele As The Ship Went Down" as I settle into my panel chair. I think it puts everyone in
the right mood except for t the ’awful’
Baroness Warsi (father’s a bus driver or a mill worker. Do we really
need these sorts of people in the Tory Party?) Warsi bangs on about Islamophobia and
institutional racism in the Conservative Party. Wot Rot! I soon put her to
rights.
I think I can safely
say the appearance was another ‘Zahawi Zinger’. I even manage to turn the
tables on that Corrie star’ turned Labour apparatchik, Tracy Brabin, by noting
how the cast of Corrie, Casualty and Eastenders (all shows, in which she has
starred) are riddled with anti-Semites!!!
(Catching Jo Coburn’s eye and giving her the thumbs up as I do so.)
10.00 p.m. Long train journey from London spent
mulling over Warsi’s words on racism.
Back in Stratford, enjoying a well-earned pint in the
Faragista Lounge at the Tally Ho! public house on Bard Street with faithful Constituency
Chair.
I decide to share my concerns that there might be a smidgen
of racism amongst the good burghers of Stratford, which might prejudice my
re-election next time round (not that there’s going to be an election!).
Johnny H. reassures me ‘Don’t worry, Nad, if you put a blue
rosette on a donkey in Stratford it would still get elected to Parliament!’
Next up is Question Time with Fiona-The-Bruce. I must admit
I’m a little apprehensive. Seema says it’s nothing to worry about. She thinks
that Mr. InVinceCable is on the panel along with a few others from the ’Rusty Knee
Brigade’ so it will be just like the Antiques Roadshow!
What a great day. Slept like a baby after that. Night, night
all!
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