Chris Philph - Diary of a Nobody's Nobody
for My Darling Betty-poo (why does she dislike this pet name?)
March 1st:
It's been exactly 485 days, 12 hours since my star shot across the Downing Street firmament only to disappear into the Trussosphere along with Mme Lettuce herself. Not a day goes past without me re-running that day when I heroically spoke 'Truth to Power', telling La Trussler that on principle I had to resign from her cabinet (as per Betty-Poo's advice).
“I'm taking you down with me, Philth she said “ and the Quasi-man's toast too.” I must say it was one of the few promises Ms.Trustt actually kept.
But let me take you back Dear Diary to those heady days when I was speeding my way towards becoming Chancer of the Exchequer.. It all started with a phone call from Quasi. (Wotta Man – brain as big as a billiard ball) “Philth he said “straight to the point I want you as my Chief Sec.You've got exactly the qualifications and experience we need - Liquidation, Insolvency, £4 million debts – you've done it all, my boy. “ (Wotta man; brain as big as a turnip) “ You may think it a bit presumptious of me”, says he “ but I have brought a welcome pack with me, in case you do Me and 'Er next door' the honour of accepting.” He produces copies of Economics for Dummies: Dark Dealings with the Blob; Brittany (Spears)Unchained and How to be an Attack Dog in 5 Easy Lessons. “ I suggest you start mugging up on '...Dummies' in case you have to stand in for the Lettuce or me on Newsnight, Kornberger or Pesto.”
To say I took to Chief Sec like a shareholder takes to Thames Water, is no exaggeration. I was wanted everywhere. Quasi heaped praise on me, congratulating me on my strategy of making Pesto look as if he knew more about economics than me. “ A masterly double-bluff, Philth,” says he “ by giving the impression that we dont know what we're doing, you hide the fact that we actually don't know what we're doing.”(Wotta Man, brain as big as a pumpkin).
A couple of weeks later everything goes tits up! Quasi barges in on me doing the Sun Crossword with my Super-Spad.. Quazz is in a lather shouting“She's going to sack me; the stupid B****; ME with a brain as big as a space-hopper;ME who wrote the mini-budget in Ancient Greek (in rhyming couplets). And you, Philth, have lost your 'Useful Idiot' status; so you're out on your ear too. My advice is get your resignation in first”
But what of ME? I hear my readers enquire. Smarmy Sunak says he would love to have me back in the Treasury but I failed the 'spreadsheet' test. So I am packed off to the laager of the Ministry of Justice – like Napoleon in my Elba.
So here I am Minister for Crime, Police and Fire. It's just awful. If it's not bad enough that the Met Chief introduces me at meetings as 'Philth in charge of the Filth' my boss, Charlie Chalk (well-meaning but seriously serious) keeps popping his head round the door and telling me what I can and can't say e.g Don't mention that your less likely to be a victim of crime in London than outside the Metropolis; do say' knife crime is up in Sadiq's fiefdom' C'mon Chalkie, KC do you take the Right Honourable C. Philth for some kind of amateur?!!
March 2
Close up and personal with Lizzie-poo (It's been a while!). Showed her above entry. She tells me not to be such a Wuss; stop whingeing and get on the blower to Nadine Zimbabwe as he knows how to climb the greasy pole without talent or brains. “He owes you.” She says, as indeed he does. My selfless attempts to bale him out over his 'careless but not deliberate' (Ha! Ha!) failure to pay HMRC was the main factor in my brilliant career taking a nose dive.
Later Telephone call to Nadine. I had the phone tap on. (MI6 surplus bought on E-bay) It went like this:
“Is that you Philth? What do you want? I don't like to be disturbed when I'm at my stables fettling the fillies”
“Nad, (we're on Nad, Philth terms, of course) do you remember when there was all that HMRC nonsense a couple of Summer's ago, which I nearly sorted. You said I could always call on you for help as one good turn deserves another?”
“No. 'fraid I don't remember. Did I have a spot of bother? I'm sure you're mistaken. Anyway you had better go on.”
“Well, long story short. I got booted out of Cabinet by The Yorkshire Maharajah and my career has stalled ever since. I thought you might be able to advise me on how to re-ascend the greasy Cockaigne pole again.
“You insinuating that I am a member of the Grand Order of the Brown Nose and I might impart some tips on how you might enter the Order?”
“No, no , that's not what I meant, Nad, My Hero...”
“Oh don't worry yourself you young Whippersnapper; you couldn't pay me a greater compliment...”
to be continued...
NEXT TIME NADINE REVEALS HOW PHILPH CAN GET BACK IN THE GAME; CLIMB THE POLE AND,WHO KNOWS, EVEN REACH THE TOP.
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