DIARY OF A NOTTING HILL NOBODY
MONDAY
Trust Labour to go and apologise for the slave trade. The cheek of it! We played just as big a part, if not bigger, in the atrocities of Roots. It’s just as much ours to say sorry for, and Dave would have done it so much better. With real tears. Well, see if we care! Our man’s in Iraq sporting a flak jacket with panache and not looking like a constipated jellybaby — like certain people with clunking fists and the handwriting of a psychopath we could mention. It’s just so petty. No sooner do we announce that Churchill is ‘wholly inadequate’ (hello? statement of the obvious!) than Blair comes out with a measly historic U-turn of his own. Talk about desperate. He’ll be apologising for Iraq next. (We’re planning to do that next week!) Jed ripped through the office like a hurricane this morning ordering us all to come up with lists of things to apologise for, together with ideas for more ‘POLLIES’ — People Of the Left who Live In Extravagant Splendour. ‘I don’t give a *$&* if Tariq Ali says he’ll sue, get me names of upmarket lefties, or I’ll spray the sushi buffet with polonium.... ’ I think his aura rebalancing is overdue.
TUESDAY Was up till 3 a.m. scouring Wikipedia. My new Tory idols: Che Guevara; Hugo Chávez; Ken Livingstone; Jan Leeming and Jesus (was going to put Muhammad to be ethnic, then thought better of it, as someone might think I was joking). Things to apologise for: the Falklands war; the miners’ strike; Take That reforming; the potato famine and the poisoning of Alexander Litvinenko. Everyone fizzing with ideas. Nigel wondered whether Mr Maude should apologise for himself (Mr Maude agreed this would be nice touch). Mr Letwin said he thought we should express regret for those killed at the Battle of Trafalgar. All v constructive. Then Poppy went and ruined everything by saying we should apologise for Black Wednesday. What a faux pas! Dave’s face was like thun der. I mean, honestly, there’s no need to go over the top.
WEDNESDAY Poverty — it touches us all, you know. Even in my little corner of Surrey. This morning when I was leaving for work I noticed that Mrs Pargetter is now living in virtual squalor in a caravan on the green owing to her courageous non-payment of council tax. The Busy Bees tea shop has had its windows daubed in children’s face paint — again. And the Happy Hooves livery yard has put a sign up saying it’s going into liquidation! To top it all, the recycling wasn’t picked up for the second week running in our lane. It looks like the winter of discontent, only with green bags instead of black ones. That’s Blair’s Britain for you. If you ask me, we all need to climb aboard Mrs P’s caravan and cross this desert of poverty together.
THURSDAY V tiresome day working on our plans to abolish short-haul flights. I can’t see it myself. Don’t businessmen take planes to Manchester? Jed said, ‘Ha! Exactly! The Enemy!’ Nervous lady from Duke of Marlborough’s office rang wanting to know if Dave is coming to his £1,000 a head fund-raising dinner at Blenheim. Told her of course he’s going, sillybilly. Churchill’s his Complete Hero. (Poor woman was obviously taking things literally.)
tamzin.lightwater@spectator.co.uk
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