Diary
of a Nobody
Somebody
Nobody by Nadine Zimbabwe (5) (after George and
Weedon Grossmith)
Separated at Birth:
Nadhim Zahawi Nadine Zimbabwe
Once again Dear Diary I have neglected you unforgivably. But to be honest (am I ever anything else?!!) things have been moving quicker than Alpinista in this year's L'Arc. But cards on the table I have been busy putting the finishing touches to part 2 of my memoirs
“In and Out of the Cabinet – the Deck-Chairs years”
Mrs Zim (as always) has been a complete brick. Her editorial interventions have been priceless! It's down to her that I unashamedly self-reference as 'Go-to man' throughout. After all, as she opines 'that's what you have become, Nad'.
Well, I suppose it all really got going when 'Stabber' Sunak resigned, having hot-footed it back from his States-side flat, where he'd been to exercise his green card and celebrate July 4th.
July 5th
Just spent a happy day at The Free School in Stratford encouraging the Head Honcho to adopt my equine-themed curriculum, when I get a message from the Missus saying ' Our Esteemed Leader' needs to talk pronto.
Of course, I have to make the call in full sight (and hearing!!) of everyone
“Is that you, Nad, old friend? Or should I call you Chancellor? Get yourself over to the Treasury, quam brevissime ! Spot of trouble with the Duplicitous Sunak Shit. Long story short, you're in!”
“ So I am now Chancellor of the Exchequer “(oohs and ahhs from , assembled gathering)
“ That's what I'm saying! O puer stultus . You're the only one who can stay aboard this lively filly!!“
July 7th
Whata coup!A humble lad plucked from the backstreets of Baghdad to Rule Britannia. 2 days into the job and still to see a spreadsheet! Perm Sec (ominously known as 'The Riddler' because he likes to get rid of Chancellors) tells me
“Be like Little George (Osborne) and steer clear of the numbers. I've left a few back copies of Super-Stud and Feral Fillies to keep you going,” he says with a wink.
Later:
Am enjoying the centrefold of Feral Fillies when Burner 2 starts vibrating pleasantly in my back pocket:
“Hello Fatso! It's me. How are you enjoying the new job? Cream floats to the top as do other solids, I hear.”
It's the Barnard Bully. “What can I do for you Dom, you old Devil? (always best to keep a psycho on side)
“ 'Ask not what you can do for me but what you can do for my country' as someone once said. And the answer is don your toughest pair of riding clogs and stick the boot in. It's either that or shit on with the shit-show. Seriously, Bunter, give Big Dog a good kicking and seize the top job.”
“Really Dom? Do you think I'm up to the job.”
'Of course, you're not. But with me by your side – Butch and Sundance...'
“ But what do I say? Mrs Z. told me that I should nail my colours to the mast of HMS Bigslob and to ride out the choppy seas with Cap'n Brexit-Dunn”
“Suit yourself, Fatso but should you find yourself up Creek Scheisser, I've sent you a cracker of a resignation letter, which will be the final coffin nail for Mr. Carrie”
July 6th
I run into Big Dog on the way to the Chamber. I assure him with, what my favourite stable lass calls, my best oleaginous smile that I am solid.
He responds gnomically ' More solid than a constipated donkey's turd, you old Cheshire Cat?'
(Does he not know that Zimbabwe Towers is in Warwickshire?)
July 7th
Big Dog takes a real drubbing at PMQs. Dom's right (as always) time to get off the Titanic and into the life-boat.
Later
Can't resist a little smirk as I read back my resignation letter, which is winging its way like an exocet to my next-door neighbour (No, not Jumped up Jonny at no. 7, who organises the Stratford gymkhana)
Dear Bozza, Old Friend,
Well you have kicked Yours Truly once too often. No longer am I prepared to shovel s**t from the Downing Street stable. I have readily, nay willingly, bent my buttocks for a good kicking by Kuenssburg, Bruce, Kearney 'n Robinson and many more besides (not without a certain enjoyment, I must confess) but in all conscience I can render my ass in your service no more. During the last three years you have fcucked the country but now you must fcuck off yourself. In case your thinking that, despite this letter, we can still be stable-mates, there will be no place for you in My Government, I'm afraid. THERE IS NO WAY BACK!!!
As ever, your Useful Idiot,
Nad Z.
PS I'm Heartbroken, I'm playing 'Go Now' by the Moody Blues (and let's face it there are plenty of those around in the 1922 at the moment!!) as I write this...
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Of course, the above missive was not for public consumption. Instead I have put an entry on Twitter(as dictated to me by the Genius Barnard Blogster) – SEE BELOW
Prime Minister: this is not sustainable and it will get worse for you, for the Conservative Party and most importantly of all the Country. You must do the right thing and GO NOW
Later Later
Big Dog toppled!! Nad you Old Stallion, you got the call right again Let the Games Begin!!
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Next up: More Revelations: 6 Weeks of Summer – Phew Watta Scorcher
