If You Have Tears, Shed Them Now”

 

“If You Have Tears, Shed Them Now”

While the world struggles to come to terms with the 2^nd Coming of The Dong, sorry, The Don, somewhere in a Parallel Universe peopled by The Sad, The Mad and The Irrelevant,

the 'CON'-SERVATIVE PARTY is engaged in a playground game of Queenie, Queenie (has any one got balls?), channeling its Inner Ouslem as it disappears up its own orifice in an effort to answer the unanswerable existential question

'What fcucking use are we?'

The Party's Long March into oblivion is memorialized by its own Chronicler–Chris 'Fuck-up' Philp in his self-acclaimed

DIARY OF A NOBODY'S NOBODY

November 3^rd

Dear Diary,

I have been quiet for a while now, not because it has been 'All Quiet On The Westminster Front' ; quite the contrary bombs have been going off all over the place; so there's been no time for writing (but plenty for Far-righting – Ha! Ha!)

The Govester informed me, when we were in 'The Men's' after a session (of Parliament, of course!!) just before the election that Opposition would be no fun but I shouldn't worry because no one, even in Croydon, would vote for someone who didn't know the difference between Rwanda and The Conga (of course one is a Villanous Dictatorship and the other is a dance we do at Party Conference). Well I had the last laugh on that one as the Good Burghers of Croydon sent yours truly back to where he belongs (to Westminster, that is not the Gent's toilets) while The Surrey Heathites gave old Govester the order of the boot!!

Any-old-hoo, the whole Summer has been a blast and a continuous joy-ride for CP largely because of the Leadership contest. I was pretty close to throwing my hat into the ring myself, but I have to thank my old friend Nadine Zimbabwe (Where is he now? I hear you ask)for his wise counsel advizing me to keep my powder dry; let someone else clear out the stable and then appear like a deus ex machina (still not entirely sure what that is) when the then incumbent falls foul of the 1922s.

'Bet on one of the fillies' Nadine urged me.

So, I staked all my money on Her Haughtiness Kemi-Kazi. And so here we are today, awaiting a call from The Carsey after she wiped the floor with 'Honest Bob' JennerPrick.

Later

Lizzie P. hurries in with my mid-morning plate of Hobnobs in one hand and the phone in the other.

“Some screwball on the blower for you; Phyliss, darling.” she says

“ Wagwan, The Gaffer, my Main Man...” (The voice sounds familiar)

“Who is this? And what's with this Gaffer stuff” I enquire preparing to cut the call

“Lovin' your repartee, Bro. Vibes is banging...You's the Gaffer 'cos of all those gaffes, man; the place just rocks when we see yous on the tube! Don't you recognise me Babes?... It's the Kazi-Kid lookin' to sign yo up to Team Badass.”

Oh, it's you, PM 2029” I say catching on “ But what's with the street talk Kemi?”

“It's my 'genius' new policy. We're gonna capture the Under 25 vote by teaching all the 'Shads' (shadow cabinet ) to talk gangster. So far they're all signed up except for Tom 'tricorn' Trilby-Hat and 'Everso-slightly-Biggish Beast' Hunt, who think it's beneath them; and, as you know, Jimmy Dimley is sulking or sharpening his knife in the Essex wilderness... which brings me to the point of this call.

JenPrick thinks he is a shoo-in for Home Secretary (seems not to realise we're no longer in government).

'Pornbarongate and Covid travel to see the Mater and Pater will not prevent me from assuming one of the Great Offices of State' he whines but I told him straight ' there will be no place for you at the Kemster's top table.

“ So who have you gone for?” I enquire, not daring to hope.

“Why you, of course; you really are a Dumb Ass.”(a quality, which has served many a senior Tory well)

“Oh, Kemi....I'm unworthy...”

“Of course you are, but the Tory-Talent-Gene-Pool at the moment is a little on the shallow-side. Put it this way, you were choice 100 out of 121 but the other 99 were even more clueless and gaffe-prone than you.”

“I take that as a vote of confidence then​​? “ I say humoring her little joke.

“Well you better start doing your Home-work (Imissed the double-entende at the time but now I can't stop chortling at The Kasey's wit). You'll be up against Princess Yvette-of-Smugsville and she's bound to bring up the £700 million Rwanda fuck-up. So what are you going say to that, Pilf?

No hesitation, I shoot from the hip:

“It's chicken feed compared to how much we poured into our chums pockets during Covid. That will wrong foot 'em, I think. Although on reflection best not to mention chickens when we're about to be swamped with, chicken-shit; I mean shit chickens from USA courtesy of the Special Relationship.”

I knew The Kasey would like this response but I'm still pondering what her last words to me, before she rang off, meant (sic)

“Allow it, Gaffer that answer is well annoying. I've got a banging idea, innit: this coversation ain't happening. I'll get another Bro' to do the job, innit.”

Anyway as Saucy Lizzie always says “Rise and Rise again” Watch this space!!

^{'Hopelessly in love; Hopeless in love?'}