INSIDE WESTMINSTER: TALES OF HUBRIS AND BETRAYAL

5

Gaffes Galore

'The conference season is upon us,' chirruped Sir Victor, 'so I'd better get some decent scripts written.'

Suitably armed with witty ideas, he tasked his newest speech writer to incorporate a few into his headline act. In the febrile atmosphere of Westminster, the need to titillate had become de rigour.

'I know,' chirped the speech writer who, to Sir Vic's ancient eye, looked no more than 16, 'how about calling Brexit the Tory Party's 'erotic spasm'?'

Sir Vic pondered.

'How did you come up with that one?

'Just can't get the latest gossip about Potty out of my head. I mean, what do women see in him?'

'Can't be money unless he's squirrelled Sophia's stash away. Can't be his debonair deportment as he looks like a tramp most of the time,' replied Sir Vic.

'Anyway, 'erotic spasm' ticks the right boxes: naughty but not too daring; modern and yet quaintly old-fashioned. I just think it has the right 'feel'. But timing, Sir Vic, it's all about timing.'

'Yes!' he ejaculated. 'That might get through to that numbskull Trudge-Jones. It's what the nation thinks of him, his leader and the entire pile of Tories. They're all wandering through this miasmic mess, arguing like school-children. It's scraping the barrel but sexual innuendo might be what's needed.'

The young aid muttered, 'Well, you ALL created the mess by not doing your jobs.'

'What are you muttering?'

'Just that the masses need clarity. You know, knowing exactly what the score is rather than being given no real information at all. Or fed bare-faced lies.'

The last bit was said so Sir Vic, who was hard of hearing, would have had to have asked for a repeat. And time was marching on.

'Yes, yes,' spluttered Sir Vic, remembering how the In-Out campaign had been conducted as if every politician had been on mood-enhancing substances.

'What idiot is going to vote to leave Europe?' confident Tories had boasted.

Well the idiots had and that's when the realisation dawned that this unholy mess was completely of their own creation. And trying to un-muddle this knot was proving impossible.

It had also brought out the worst in those with ambition who saw the whole sorry campaign as an opportunity to grab headlines, be seen as some sort of saviour or just to have more 'air time'.

Ptolomy Trudge-Jones had been the worst.

'Just a complete cad, if the truth be known,' was Sir Vic's candid opinion. But he really objected to the manner in which politics was now viewed by ordinary people- a JOKE.

Anyway, onwards and upwards, as upbeat as ever. His aide handed Sir Vic the script.

'Remember to pause before the punch line. It gives it more…momentum, more weight.'

Sir Vic had followed his aide's instructions; pause and then pounce!

Except it had come out all wrong

'..like an exotic sprezm..'

'Eh?'

'What?'

Had been the reaction from most of the audience.

It really was time for him to go. And few politicians will be forever famed for just one phrase. The best 'sound-bite' ever!