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...

On reaching 100,000 Covid Deaths

 

It is a sobering, solemn timeline-remembrance of 100,000 UK deaths and rising.

Clemantics adjures our readership to go well yourselves and all of yours, too.

"And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains."

Percy Bysshe Shelley

More Diaries

Diary of a Nobody by Nadine Zimbabwe (3) (after George and Weedon Grossmith)

 

Separated at Birth

Nadhim Zahawi                            Nadine Zimbabwe

July 1^st,2020

Mrs. Z brings me my usual afternoon snifter – Between The Sheets cocktail

' Your favourite' she says coquettishly.

She's worried about me sitting for hours on end in a darkened room sporting my hunting pink watching recordings of my two Question Time triumphs. I can't deny it: I am depressed. Even her offer of a rub down with horse liniment fails to get the blood coursing.

I break off from the bit where 'Double Whammy' Lammy looks pitifully to Fi Bruce as I administer my coup de grace, to review one of my favourite diary entries from the time entitled:

'Victory Complete'

June 10^th,2020

Receive call from his Bozzership. Number 10 is particularly complimentary about my performance on the Fi-the-Bruce show.

“Great performance, Naddy” says he “ No-one could understand a bloody word. You've invented the never-ending sentence: no-one knows where it's going before it disappears up its own dependant clause - genius, ingenio pura. Better patent it old boy, or I'll be using it myself, ho, ho!

There are big things planned for you, Alter Junge. The Home Sec, she whose name must not be spoken, is still not cutting the mustard. If you get my drift.”

“Well, if my country needs me...in whatever capacity...” is my modest response.

“ Well between you and me Naddster, The Not-so-Pretty Petal has (as you horsey types would say) the bit between her teeth with her new immigration policy. She is all for sending you packing back to Iraq, that is your country isn't it?... only joking, mon vieux; just a bit of Bullingdon Banter. We can't do without you. We need our Scheiße Schaufler-in-chief here ready with his shovel.

Anyway, mon ami, keep that mobile phone handy at all times. Bozza will be back with ' Big Jobbies' for our favourite BAME."

I've kept my phone in my jodphurs ever since, despite odd looks from the stable lasses, but John Peel (ringtone) has been completely silent.

July 12^th

At last a call from Number 10. It's the odious Pfizzer (Cummings) but better than nothing, I suppose.

„ Hello, Fatso... the Ministry for Disinformation, here. Just put down that copy of 'All You Ever Wanted to Know about French Fillies' and pay attention“

„ I'm mucking out the stables, actually“ I protest.

„How appropriate!“ says he „ then this job will be right up your street.“ (usual annoying chortling from Pfizzer).

„ We need someone to go onto Politics Live after Prime Minister's Questions. The Great Gaffer is going to make one of his biggest gaffs yet and we need someone to be in the studio to make His Idiotship look good when the solids hit the fan.“

„ Do I get advanced information on the nature of the gaff?“ I enquire (indicating to Pfizzer that I'm now an old hand at this type of stuff).

„ Not your concern, Zimbabwe. Let's just say the punch-line is something to do with Calvin Klein Briefs (Below-the-belt obession from Johnson as usual). All this talk of face masks has turned his head. His Gaffership thinks he can go out unmuzzled and tell jokes without realizing that he is the joke.

You'll be questioned by that North London girl-guide, Joanna Cockburn, who still hasn't got the message that the days of investigative journalism and probing questions are long past. When she puts a question to you you've just got to keep to your usual never-ending sentence routine. And don't try any of that Kurdish anti-semitic stuff. We don't want trouble from her lot.“

„ The Kurds and the Israelis have been chums since 1950. I would have thought you knew that, Pfizzer.“ says I, going on the offensive ('Big balls; big balls, Naddy' I say to myself).

„Don't get clever with me, Nadine or I'll kick you and your Spad's ass. Kurdish; Smurdish; what do I care? Just don't mention Zionism. Remember, as it says in the Port advert, don't say Cock say Co...Try not to Co it up, Tubbykins!“ ...Hysterical chortling down the phone and then silence...

As I slip my mobile back into my jodhpurs I can hardly contain my delight. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and can't resist a wink. By the time Mrs. Z enters the door brandishing the biggest flagon of horse liniment you've ever seen, I am jigging round my study singing

'Happy days are here again; Naddy, the Daddy, is on the tube again...'

'It's nice to see you back to your old self, Nad.' She says ' That's the Stallion I married.'

„Up and at 'em, Mrs Z! Up and at 'em!“...

 Jo Coburn learns that Nadine Zimbabwe will be appearing on her show

More diaries will appear as we continue to emerge from Lockdown

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Well he would, wouldn't he ?

'Pick of the Day' 3

May 28^th, 2020

Day 7 of the Trials and Tribulations of 'I would drive 500 miles' Dominic Cummings

"I intend to draw a line under the matter."

 Prime Minister Boris Johnson May 28th, 2020

"Well he would, wouldn't he?"

  Mandy Rice Davies at the trial of Stephen Ward July 23rd,1963

Through the Looking Glass Revisited – for Lewis Carroll

Through the Looking Glass Revisited – for Lewis Carroll

with guest stars: Priti Patel as Alice

Al Johnson as Humpty Dumpty

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall ,who is the smirkiest of them all?”

The story so far:

Pretty Petal has fallen through a trap-door in the backroom of her parents' Newsagents, where she has been looking for the 'Ultra' edition of the Conservative Review. As usual she lands on her feet but she is aghast to find that her worst nightmare has been realised - she is wandering in a forest of red-tape and regulation. She flails to left and left but cannot find her way out. Then she hears a voice

“Wiffle, waffle, woffle, I'm King of the world; I'm world King; I can do anything...”

Pretty Hopeless emerges into a clearing where an egg-shaped person with a shock of blonde hair sits on a wall.

“I know you” announces Petal “The Cumquat calls you his 'Chubby Marionette'. You're Dumpy Humper”

“Harrumph” Dumpy murmurs to himself “This is not a good start”

Then turning to Pretty he says

“ I can assure you, young Glistening Otter, that Cumquat advises but Humper decides; well at least I think that's what he said. Anyway, what's your name oh girl of colonial disportation”

“ My name is Pretty Ambitious, Fat Mop-Head”

“Well that's a stupid name.” said the Humper dismissively “A name must have a meaning. Pretty Ambitious means nothing to me.”

“It seems to me that Dumpy Humper is a name without meaning” said Pretty defiantly.

“Au contraire, e contrario, puella bella.” responded Dumpy ( Dumpy liked to lapse into a foreign language when he was uncertain, as it showed how clever he was)

“Dumpy refers to the proportionality between my height and my rotundity, which (as you will have noticed) is perfection itself. Humper speaks for itself, I think.” (Dumpy was pleased with this riposte)

“When I came through the forest I heard you say wiffle, waffle, woffle, Mr Humper. What does that mean?”

“When I use a word” Dumpy Humper replied ”It means just what I choose it to mean...neither more nor less.

For example, when I say 40 hospitals it actually means 6 hospitals or when I say 'Do or Die' it means 'I am going to fob you lot off with a load of baloney.'

'Wiffle, waffle woffle' means 'I don't like your question and I'm not going to answer it'; and so on.

Of course, I have to pay some words more than others, according to how hard they work for me – 'Spaffing, bumboys, piccaninnies, letterboxes' are particularly expensive as I use them a lot.

“That's rather good. I like that...” said Pretty Cunning reflectively “So when I say 'immigrant' it can mean all those people I want to keep out of Wonderland, for one reason or another, but it doesn't refer to Ugandan Asians, like Mum, Dad and Me.

Or when I say I'm taking a 'holiday' it means that I am going to meet Bibi 'the bastard' Netanyahoo?”

“By Jove, you've got it.” said the Humper appreciatively “It's the same with 'Turks' sometimes I use it to put the fear of Mogg up people by telling them that 'we're all going to be run over by marauding Turks'. Sometimes I use 'Turk' as a term of endearment for my dear old Great Grandad Ali Kemal Bey, who hails from Istanbul.”

“By the way, coming from Uganda, I don't suppose you would like to climb up here and join Old Dumpy in some 'Ugandan Discussions'* I suppose?”

“I'm afraid I don't speak Swahili” replied a bemused Pretty Awful.

(Pretty is too young to know that 'Ugandan Discussions' is posh boy code for sexual shenanigans)

“Oh that's disappointing” frowned Humper “ Then perhaps I can persuade you to join my 'cabinet'. I think that it would be amusing to have a representative of the Ugandan Tottyship nearby. You could even sit next to me instead of Cumquat (He always smells unwashed)”

“What's a cabinet” enquired Pretty Useless.

“It's my box, in which I keep people, who do exactly what I say; or rather, exactly what Cumquat says.”

“It sounds just right for me” mused Pretty Devious “And can I make words mean exactly what I want them to, like you?”

“Of course, Pretty Unscrupulous; well that's settled.” said Dumpy Humper clapping his hands. As he did so he started to lose his balance. “ Cripes this wasn't supposed to happen...Cumquat...Cumquat... Cumquaaaatt...where are you?...”

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*Editor's note:Ugandan discussions" is a euphemism for sex coined during the early 1970s by the satirical British magazine "Private Eye".
The basis of the term arose at a party in London hosted by Neal Ascherson at which Irish moralist and journalist Mary Kenny, during her early, wild phase, spent some time upstairs with a former Ugandan government minister. On rejoining the other guests, Kenny explained their absence by saying they were "upstairs discussing Uganda".

As Spartacus might have said

As Spartacus might have said, "We who are about to be Brexited, salute, you shit.

I do like a comma-so comforting.

As I'm sure you know, when Corbyn was a callow youth - no change there then - he worked on a pig farm and was so affected by the manner in which the pigs were badly treated that he became a vegetarian.

What is less well known is that he also decided to learn more  about the ins and outs of pig husbandry, and so took himself off to the local library.Unfortunately, instead of going to the reference section, he found himself in the "Are you intelligent enough to read these books? section As you can imagine, books on pig husbandry were thin on the ground, but there was one that seemed to point in the right direction and he duly took it out on loan.

Once he had read Animal Farm, his concern for the welfare of pigs was somewhat diminished. However, the book triggered further ideological questions, so back he went to the library. This time as luck would have it, he found himself in the reference section and there he found the book that would have the most profound effect on his life; an effect he has spent a lifetime inviting others to share, but ultimately been disappointed that it remains what it always has been - a hard sell

"The Handbook of Socialism for Beginners" is not well known and has been out of print since well, soon after it was published. The copy Mr Corbyn obtained from the library was one of the few that survived the cull and on returning the book was informed that it might be for the best if he kept it, as he was the only person to borrow it and, in a way, they deserved each other.

Overcome with pleasure - difficult to discern but recognised by a twitch of the eyebrow -Mr Corbyn took the book and even now it resides on his bedside table.  Dog eared, the binding in a poor state of repair, nevertheless, it remains the book he refers to when he feels under pressure from non believers.

Oh Jeremy Corbyn.