DIARY
OF A NOTTING HILL NOBODY
MONDAY Got back to complete chaos after my winter spa break with mummy. Any de-stress and/or slimming benefit from seaweed and salt wraps entirely lost in first three minutes in this place.
When I left, Labour was embroiled in sleaze. Now Gids — of all people! — is accidentally forgetting to declare donations because Commons officials said he might not have to. A lot of other shadow cabinet members who will remain nameless here seem to have made the same silly oversight.
Of course, our sleaze is a lot cleaner than Labour sleaze. That goes without saying. But it’s all jolly inconvenient. Instead of being able to get on with my Boris merchandise (the new wigs are in, non-flammable this time!), am seconded on to horrid Donations Row Fallout Management Sub-Committee.
We have to work out what else should be declared in order to be voluntarily forthright and honest if the relevant authorities force us to be.
It’s a minefield. I mean, hypothetically speaking, would we have to declare free copies of Guns and Ammo Weekly if DD were to receive such a thing? Would it matter, just for argument’s sake, if Mr Mitchell’s office was being funded almost entirely by the Pony Club? Again, purely hypothetical. I simply ask the question.
TUESDAY Have been thinking a lot about the massive stack of 2008 diaries from a well-known luxury stationers under my desk. Might put them on the list of stuff to be fessed up to, as Jed says.
Everyone in v edgy mood. Jilly from Dave’s office just rushed up to me and asked if I could nip out and buy a packet of Marlboro Lights. Feel this is a bit of a cheek. Asked who they were for and she looked really uncomfortable, then let rip a real shocker. Poor Mrs Spelperson has developed an 80-a-day habit! Jilly says she blames the stress of pretending not to mind about Lord A sending her out to collect his drycleaning. Apparently it was all anyone could do to get her off the Lambert & Butlers. Next time I see her am going to tell her about detox wraps. I must say am surprised. She doesn’t smell like a smoker. Maybe she sucks a lot of mints.
WEDNESDAY DD on the warpath. Stormed into Jed’s office and demanded we do something about Blunkett banging on about social mobility which is ‘all my idea’. This was a big tactical mistake, as now everyone has remembered that DD was supposed to be running a Social Mobility Taskforce and Jed wants to know what it’s been doing all this time. I don’t think the answer can have been terribly convincing. Jed has commissioned a whole team of us to ‘find some shock figures and a load of kids who can’t read an’ all that’.
More bad news at lunchtime. Focaccia and wrap trolley suspended till further notice as part of Dave’s clampdown on perks. Poppy was so furious she knocked on Our Leader’s door to complain, but he was at Wiltons.
Jilly sent me out for two packs of Marlboro Lights. Told me not to say anything to Mrs Spelperson as she doesn’t like to talk about it. Denial is a terrible thing.
THURSDAY How strange. Was walking past Dave’s office just now when noticed strong smell of cigarette smoke. Surely he, with his strong views on the matter, is not letting Mrs Spelperson smoke in his office? If so, standards are indeed slipping. No wonder we are up to our necks in sleaze.
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