DIARY OF A NOTTING HILL NOBODY
MONDAY Yikes! Memo from Jed in California marked ‘Urgent and F***ing Desperate’. It’s v. bad news. It seems the brand is recontaminated. Lord A’s latest focus group asked people to name the first four words that came into their heads when shown a picture of Dave and Gids: yachts; hookers; Coke; and moussaka were the top-scoring words. As Jed explained, while we do not resile from being associated with Greece’s best-loved dish, or indeed America’s best-loved drink, or indeed the world’s oldest profession, we must take as a v. serious warning the fact that we are now associated with large boats. We are therefore beginning Operation Humble Pie, to de-yachtify the Tory image and again become the party of ordinary Britons. At least The Truce seems to be holding, thank goodness. Am just glad I managed to work something out with Bev from Labour over an Indian meal. It was nice to have a good old chin-wag with her and swap insider gossip.
TUESDAY Who says we don’t have an economic policy? We most certainly do. Our plan, as Dave showed today, is to highlight the fact that Gordon Brown doesn’t have a plan. If this isn’t a serious package for recovery, I don’t know what is. So let’s have no more crazy talk from Mr Redwood about getting control of public spending and stimulating growth. Speaking of which, poor Mr Duncan isn’t enjoying being our new Mandy attack dog. Says this sort of thing isn’t in his contract and he wants a 24-hour armed guard. He’s fussing like crazy about a press release in his name attacking the Prince of Darkness. I told him to pull himself together. If it all goes wrong and slanderous stories start appearing about his links with the oil industry, we will stand by him. For a few days, anyway. Still, some people are happy. Mr Maude and Mr Letwin are on cloud nine about the hung parliament polls. ‘You see! We’re heading for a landslide defeat, as I predicted . . .’ No, as I predicted . . .’ ‘No, as I predicted . . .’ Bless! WEDNESDAY No joy with Obama’s people. They’ll have to call back eventually, surely? If not, we’re going to have to draw lots to decide who’s going to tell Dave we haven’t managed to set up so much as a phone call. I blame Foxy for talking us into supporting stinky old McCain. Talk about backing the wrong horse! If you ask me, that one’s had his chips. Am consoling myself with finalising our comprehensive list of forbidden activities suspended until further notice: yachting (obviously)*; flying on private jets*; taking helicopters short distances when chauffeurdriven car would do*; fine-dining in top restaurants with or without members of rival parties*; wearing waistcoats**. Any MP caught indulging in banned activity will find their career prospects severely curtailed.
*Unless on urgent leadership/fundraising business. **Unless cleared with the CCHQ waistcoat and tie guidelines dept.
THURSDAY Ms Rowe on the phone again. Would Gids like to go out for dinner Friday night? No, he would not! Actually, maybe I better ask, just to be sure. I’ve got myself into trouble for assuming things that seemed obvious before. After all, who’d have thought Gids would want to take tea with Oleg Deripaska? Am out with Bev tonight. We’re going to a little Greek place this time. It’s so nice to have a friendship across the political divide.
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