We're Off to see the Wizard the Wonderful Wizard of OZ!
Scene: A Grouse Moor somewhere in Scotland
A Large Paunchy Middle-aged Man aims his shotgun aimlessly into the sky and discharges both barrels
Man: There's nothing like the noise made when my Big Gun goes off, so they tell me...
Go fetch...Go fetch!
The Gilly stoops to release his gundog.
Man: No not you Fido. What do you think I employ the Bampot Gilly for? Off you go Silly Gilly or do I have to kick your Cocky Jock arse? And don't come back without my bird or I'll thrash you to within an inch of your Remainer Sporran.
Gilly goes off muttering: The man's a complete Tadger.
A ringtone 'You are my hero' resonates across the moor
Man: Wotcha! You're through to Baron Bottham of Nobbington-cum-Bellend.
Plummy Voice: Cripes is that you Nobbington? It's me Johnson's Johnson (Ho! Ho!), PM and all that. I didn't recognize you for a minute
Baron Bottham: That's because I'm no longer using the 'Fcucking 'Ell it's Fred Titmus' ringtone. No-one knows who he is any more and anyway he's dead now.
Gilly: (who has returned with a handful of grouse feathers) They can't hear your ringtone when they phone in, yer Numpty Sassenach.
Johnson's Johnson: Straight to the point, my Old Slogger. Bit of a cock up on the Trade front.
BB: Trade? Not my bag, me Old Tinfoil Tosser. Top man on Cricket, not bad on the Countryside, Scourge of The Wokes (Chris excepted) but useless on Trade. Didn't I say a while back to the Torygraph that I was as much use as a chocolate cricket bat on trade with the Japs.
JJ: Not knowing anything about anything never held me back, Beefmeister. I didn't get to be PM by knowing stuff. Anyway, do you remember Truss?
BB: Too right I do. I had to wear one for a whole month after Courtenay Walsh nipped one into the Inner Sanctum.
JJ: No, no, I mean Dizzy-Miss-Lizzy Truss. You know red dress, shrill voice...
BB: I do like a red dress – a dress with promise. It reminds me of when I was on tour in '83... but remember Beano, what happens on tour stays on tour,
JJ :(trying to keep Nobbington on track) Yes, Yes! But I'm referring to my Trade Secretary. She started out a middle-aged public schoolboy's fantasy woman and ended up a walking disaster in stilettos! She's gone and done a so-called deal with those Aussie Drongos so that they sell us all their stuff but we sell them nothing, nichts, zippo. They refuse even to lease us back Botany Bay for Patel's asylum seekers.
BB: (struggling to keep up) So what do you want me to do about it ,Skip?
JJ: Well you see, Beefster, you're my ace in the hole. The truth is we're 9 down for not very many. We need you to come in to swing the old bat; knock the ball around a bit. 'Cometh the hour; cometh the man' as Boyccs used to say as he strode off to the latrines.
BB: (unsettled by the mention of Geoffrey Boycott) Ye..es. But where do I come in? I never bat as low as number 11.
JJ: You Nobbington are THE MAN. You are the Trade Envoy for OZ, I want. Indeed I'm not exaggerating when I say that you are THE MAN the whole Country wants!
BB: I dunno, Skip. I'm pretty busy up here, you know. What with all this trouble with the RSPB and then there's the Heather and Grass Burning Bill.
JJ: (gently) I'd hoped you'd spare us some of your time. Didn't I hear that your sacking by the Digger - I mean your stepping back from your duties with Sky to spend more time with your carp and grouse, had left you with a few gaps in your busy schedule?
BB: I suppose that's true. I suppose it will be like an Ashes Tour with benefits
JJ: (winks conspiratorially even though he's on the phone) Oh! Definitely with benefits...
BB: Could you throw in sorting out that awful Chris St. Packham, he's a complete winker but still a thorn in my side?
JJ: I'll get Darius G onto it right away...
BB:Then I guess you have a deal
JJ: That's the stuff, My Dear Old Thing.The QANTAS is out of the hangar...start your engines!
JJ : Rings off and can be heard saying 'Now where's that number for Kate ' No surrender' Hoey...
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