Diary of a Nobody by Nadine Zimbabwe (4)

 

Diary of a Nobody by Nadine Zimbabwe (4) (after George and Weedon Grossmith)

                                                  Separated at Birth: 

Nadhim Zahawi                                       Nadine Zimbabwe

April 24th 2021

Almost 5 months to the day when I became Vaccine Supremo or Jabber-the-Czar as the PM likes to call me; I must say being Vaccine Czar has not turned out to be all it was cracked up. Number 10 said the job was 'right up my alley'; it would 'showcase your extraordinary skills, Naddy'.

22 weeks into the job – nothing. No call from Pesto (ITV); not a peep from Konigsburger (Beeb); no interest from the press. I even phoned 'Desperate Dan' Wootton at the Sun, offering a juicy leak (anonymous, of course).

'Not interested, mate' says Dan 'we've already got one 'Chatty Rat'. I suggest you go and take your leak in the usual place!'

'How coarse; have you no style, sir?' was my trademark shoot-from-the-hip reply.

'You do know you're on to the Sun, don't you, Fatso?' he says merrily and slams the phone down.

Anyway, By lunch time I am feeling so depressed I'd even have welcomed a call from the 'Mad Spad of Barnard Castle (or should I say 'Ex-Spad!!). As luck would have it, Mrs Z. had dropped in at the M42 Burger King drive-thru' on her way back from choosing wall paper at John Lewis.

'I've got your Whopper' she says playfully.

'I'm too unhappy to engage in banter and innuendo, Old Girl' says I and proceed to unburden myself about the Czar-thing.

Once again Mrs Z comes up trumps 'Get that down you and get on the blower to that Simon Case (or Justin Case as the Govemeister calls him), the 'New Fixer' down at the Cabinet Office. He'll tell you the SP (Mrs. Z likes to use racing terms).'

Later – I put through a call to 'Suit-Case'. Smooth talking? Voice silky as Tennessee Whiskey (to which, Yours Truly is rather partial). Unusual for one of No 10s attack dogs – Naddy's immediately on his guard.

“Don't worry, Mr Zinoviev” says Suitable Case “No-one expects you to do a thing. The NHS is taking good care of the 'roll-out', beautifully. The Blonde Bombshell is taking all the credit. Your job is Patsy-in-Chief if things go wrong. Enjoy life while the sun shines, Mr Zorro. Get yourself off to your stables. Nothing more soothing they say than stroking the hindquarters of your favourite filly with a stable-rubber!”

26^th April

Just trying on my snazzy new Joddies (mail order from John Lewis' new, on-line Tacky-shop) when 'Do ye Ken John Peel' (ringtone) goes off.

“Lord David, is that you?” says a familiar voice, “ The solids have really hit the fan; excreta maxima...”

“You're through to Nadine Zimbabwe, Vaccine Czar”

“Oh Cripes, I must have hit Lord Brownose in 'contacts' rather than Lord Brownlow” (it's the PM!) “I jest, of course. How are you, Naddy, my favourite non-Russkie Czar?”

“All the better for your call, PM”

“Well now I've got you on the old dog and bone, Jodhpur Jack (one of the PM's terms of endearment, I cherish!!), I do have a job for you. We've got a spot of bother on the DIY front. Needn't go in to detail about it, but just to say, that Gleaming Otter of mine has just cost me 150 grand. Anyway that's not the worst of it; the Daily Lie is onto the story and the new editor is looking to shaft me, ad sagittam rectum.

I need someone to get out on the media and start counter-punching for me. I needn't tell you, Nad Old Thing, that your ability to stonewall is legendary in the corridors of No 10. The dearly beloved, now departed, Spadmeister-General used to love hurling insults in your direction just to see the 'water run off the duck's back'.

“Say no more, Mein Führer, I'm your man!”

“ Then to horse my Noble Stratford. Expect a call from the Beeb and the Other One sometime soon . Up and at 'em!!”

28^th April.

Wotta day! Interview with 'Cruisemishal' Husain in the morning and Bob Pesto in the evening. I'd hoped that I might get Nick Robocop ('he's one of us' says the PM) on the Today programme but instead they put me up against the Bilious Husain.

Of course, I saw her off with a few 'the public aren't really interested in the price of El Supremo's wall paper' and so forth. The Daily Distress ran the headline 'Answered plenty!' Zimbabwe brutally shuts down BBC host over persistent Boris Johnson probe. This is as great an accolade as if it had come from the PM himself.

If I'm honest (as I always am!!) The Pesto interview was a bit of an anti-climax. Before the show Bob-a-Job tipped me the wink that he and the PM were both part of the sacred Balliol Brethren and so he was bound not to give me a hard time. A Bruiser like me from the back streets of Baghdad likes nothing better than a good dust up so Pesto's farewell of

'Nice to see you; please come again'

frankly, left me feeling like my balloon had been well and truly popped.

later

Mrs. Z comes in with a nice cuppa to celebrate my success.

'I've set up the karaoke room for you, my hunky dunk. Get in there and celebrate!'

It's just a little indulgence I have, dear diary. I have converted a closet where I used to keep my boots and saddles into a studio; kitted it out with sound system and wall mirrors (from John Lewis – only the best for me!!). After a triumph like today I go straight into the winner's enclosure, where Mrs Z affixes the winner's rosette to my chest; she then chooses a suitable song and I belt it out.

Today 'What a Difference a Day Makes' comes piping through the headphones

What a difference a day makes

24 little hours

what a difference a day makes

And the difference is you...

I can see Mrs Z watching and pointing at me as I crescendo on 'And the difference is you...'.

What a woman. She's definitely lucky to have me...