Chancellor of the Exchequer Ian Risk and Nigel Farage were sat at the kitchen table, having a good go at the bottle of sherry scavenged by Nigel, when they were joined by a jubilant King Boris and slightly compunctious Snetterton. Boris slapped his thigh.
“Bally-ho! There’s something very arousing about thrashing one’s butler, wouldn’t you say chaps?”
Ian and Nigel looked towards Snetterton. He didn’t look very aroused.
“I can’t say I’ve ever thrashed a butler,” said Ian, pouring himself another sherry. “But I tripped over a milkmaid, once.”
“Oh, I’m always tripping over milkmaids,” replied Boris, pulling up a chair. “As luck would have it, I always fall quite neatly on top of them. I am like a bit of toast, jam side down every time. Huzzah!”
Nigel took an urgent slug of sherry, hoping it would dislodge the hideous mental image that had just formed in his mind.
“Anyway,” continued Boris, grabbing the bottle and turning to Ian. “Why are you dressed as a scientist?”
“Hmm?” Ian suddenly became very aware that he was still wearing his lab coat from the Botanical Gardens. “Oh – erm – I’m not. I was… a bit cold. So I put this on.” He thought it best to change the subject swiftly. “Anyway, what were you two doing down here in the kitchen? And why are you wearing very small hats?”
Boris and Nigel were still sporting the Prime Minister’s deerstalker and bowler respectively, looking rather splendid, it had to be said.
“Aha! Well, here’s the thing,” Boris didn’t bother with a glass and took his sherry straight from the bottle. “Your chap Sir Edd said a most perplexing thing. He told us that we should speak to our man Snetterton about Blair getting the bullet through his bonce. Of course, Bozza here being the brainbox that he is, at once thought the crafty old bugger was trying to cause a bit of trouble. Cabinet Secretaries are renown for it, you know. But I thought – aha! There’s something afoot. I’d better stick my nose right into the whole thing and give it a bloody good sniff. So we stole some hats and headed in search of Snetterton. I thought he would naturally revert to his butler ways and gravitate towards the lower quarters, so we came here. We were searching for clues when we happened upon the fornication in the pantry.”
Ian fixed his considerable gaze on the butler, almost invisible in the corner of the room.
“And how can you be so sure that he wasn’t involved?” Ian said slowly.
“Because he was present at the formalisation of the peace treaty, of course!” exclaimed Boris.
Snetterton was fastidiously adjusting his cufflinks and averting his gaze. Ian felt that something was most definitely amiss but he had more pressing matters to attend to. The Prime Minister had clearly been furious about the cannabis factory, but she hadn’t given any hint as to the fate of Trade Minister Simon Daley and his good self. And now there was talk of a press conference of some sort, which was most distressing.
“Well, I wish you all the best with your investigation,” said Ian, rising to his feet. “Although I think you’ll find that Wing Commander Tom has the bull very much by the horns on this one. You must excuse me, gentlemen, as the Prime Minister is preparing a formal address and I rather think I should be there to offer my assistance.”
“Oh! How exciting!” said Boris, his face flushed – although that could be the sherry. “Is it about our historic peace treaty? I do hope it is!”
“Actually, I’m not sure what it’s about,” Ian replied, truthfully. “Could be anything, knowing her. Anyway. That’s exactly why I should be there.”
“You might ask your friend Edd about why he’s pointing the finger at my butler, while you’re at it.”
“I just might do that, Your Highness.”
Ian was unsurprised to find the Prime Minister’s private office in a state of high-pitched chaos. The PM was halfway out of her seat and across her desk, only partly successfully restrained by Wing Commander Tom. Her intended destination appeared to be the throat of Sir Edd, who was glaring back at a safe distance. Minister for Culture, Media & Sport Mick Canning was handing round gin in an effort to calm the situation, while Dr Martens was politely but enthusiastically offering to punch Sir Edd on behalf of the Prime Minister.
“Looks like I got here just in time,” announced Ian, bringing with him at least a modicum of decorum.
“Keep out of this, Chancellor,” hissed Sir Edd.
“I was talking about the gin,” Ian replied, taking the glass so earnestly offered by Mick. “Anyway listen – you and I need to have words.”
Sir Edd snorted.
“Who are you to tell me…”
“It’s about Snetterton.” Ian finished his gin in one. It didn’t sit too well with the sherry, unfortunately.
Sir Edd returned the most withering of looks, but he was rattled.
“I’m telling you, I’m doing this!” squealed Lucy, shrugging off Tom and returning to her seat. “The people deserve to know. I am going to be the first Prime Minister in history to actually tell the truth.”
“Oh, Prime Minister,” wailed Sir Edd, genuinely wounded. “Surely you don’t mean that?”
“I think the Prime Minister is right,” declared Tom. “More than anything, people hate being lied to. The press are going to run the story anyway and I think it prudent and courageous to be open and honest about the Government’s position.”
Sir Edd sighed the weary sigh of one who is resigned to his fate.
“If you insist, Prime Minister. But there is no harm in putting a little polish on proceedings, if you get my meaning? After all, there are many benefits to our endeavours that the press are bound to over-look.”
“You make a very good point, Sir Edd” Lucy calmed down considerably and began searching her desk for a pen.
“All we need to do, Prime Minister, is present matters to the public in a way that shows the benefits to them,” Sir Edd was smiling now, but had one eye on Ian. “The truth is still the truth, even when viewed from different perspectives.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Lucy. She turned to her Minister for Culture, Media & Sport. “Mick, inform the press that I shall be making a formal statement to them right after breakfast tomorrow. This is going to be bloody brilliant.”
Oh I’m loving this. It’s getting more and more everyone’s got their finger on the trigger that shot Tony.
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Yay! Chuffed you are enjoying it. It’s a lot of fun to write!
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And to read believe me 🙂
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😀
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Reblogged this on firefly465.
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🙂 xx
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Always happy to punch a scoundrel on your behalf m’am 😀
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Haha! I knew you would be!
**FOR THE BERNARDS!!** (My predictive text suggests that phrase automatically now!)
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It is one of my talents…punching people…
(Not that I actually do it at random or anything)
*FOR THE BERNARDS!!*
(Mine suggests it then insists that Bernards isn’t a word…)
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I thought it might be… but only when it is a Good Idea, obviously 😉
My laptop still resists the Bernards, but my phone has finally accepted it. A small step towards world domination 🙂
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well of course, It would have to be a Good Idea 😀
My lap top won’t accept Bernards either…
I am not sure why it has a problem with the idea that there may be more than one Bernard… I wonder if it does it for all names…
Lucys
Samanthas
Sams
Trevors
Williams
ok…apparently there are not allowed to be multiple Trevors, Lucys or Samanthas …but a plurality of Sams and Williams is fine…
yeay!! we are on our way to world domination…but only with one person for every name…
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Aha I see that technology is conspiring against us! It’s probably good that there is only one of each of us as multiple Sams and Lucys could be quite a handful. Imagine the noise! But when it comes to Bernards I must put my food down – one is never enough!
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Hahaha indeed…one of each of us is the right amount…
One Bernard is really never enough!! Why else do the come in packets?!
Multiple Lucys and Sams might try and eat some of our Bernards 😱
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Oh my! Yes! We absolutely no more of us. It’s the one and only thing that spell checker and I agree on 🙂 (Aargh – ended a sentence on a preposition… shudder…)
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I am constantly rearranging engineers sentences that end on prepositions…
Maybe I could get just one extra sam to do that for me…
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A lowercase sam might just be okay… and if it is for prepositions I think that would be fine 😉
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yes, that is what I thought… 😀
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😀
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High-pitched chaos – the worst of all possible kinds! And gin on top of sherry? If things weren’t bad enough already, the PM is threatening to tell the public the TRUTH?!
hmmmm . . . on second thought, that might be like “hiding in plain sight.”
The public has never gotten truth from a politician before – so it may send everyone off on divergent flights of fancy. There is probably no way they’ll actually believe what she says. Good plan!
xx,
mgh
(Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMore dot com)
– ADD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder –
“It takes a village to transform a world!”
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You see my plan exactly! Whatever politicians tell the public, they will never be believed anyway, so might as well tell them the truth! Our own leaders should try it, it would be a wonderful double-bluff. Politics can be such fun when done properly 🙂
xx
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Methinks every politician has his or her own definition of “properly” however. 🙂
xx,
mgh
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And that is exactly the problem. Rarely does it involve anything of actual value to society 🙂
xx
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Follow the money – theirs.
xx,
mgh
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Let me assure you, nobody believes the truth, anyway.
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That’s what I’m counting on 😉
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Ah breakfast … always a good time for the truth … at least a version of with marmalade and toast … gone off of jam for some reason!
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I shall be fortifying myself with sausages as well as marmalade- and I agree, jam has somewhat lost its appeal…
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Can’t beat a hot sausage with a little sauce …
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Quite right, dear chap! Best way to start the day.
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Things are certainly moving apace, Lucy. Well lubricated with sherry.
Er … this thing about telling the truth. It is a novel idea which is fine … because this is a novel.
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Sherry does have an important part to play. An oft underrated tipple, I think.
Ah, the joys of writing fiction! Not sure this will ever end up as a novel, mind you.
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Have you considered that it may well have been Colonel Mustard? I would seriously check if he’s made a gun out of lead piping… no doubt you’ll find him in the library. Otherwise it must have been Boris – I’m still working on breaking his alibi…
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I’ve got my eye on Colonel Mustard – but then with a moustache like that, who hasn’t! 😉 I’m just stringing it out – once Wing Commander Tom starts his interrogations it will become pretty obvious. I really want it to be Boris… perhaps the bedroom activity was just a bad dream! (Don’t worry – I’m no Agatha Christie but I won’t be relying on cheap plot ploys like that…)
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Reblogged this on Tiffany Belle Harper.
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Thank you Tiffy! 🙂
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It’s brilliant!
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What can I say? Gin and sherry? It’ll just ruin the gin, I fear. Oh heavens!
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This is what happens when you leave the beverages to Nigel Farage. Thank goodness you are on hand with the gin!
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*Saves the day* Rah!
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Rah indeed!
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So the spin-off from all this will be the Boris and Nigel detective agency series? Solving crime one bonk at a time!
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I am officially stealing that idea, if you don’t mind!
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My gift to you for Christmas; steal on!
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The gift of Boris & Nigel is a great gift indeed. Even better than what Jesus got. I have hidden your gift on the trampoline.
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Who’s Jesus? Is she Santa’s mum? And remember the gift can only be opened in the nude.
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Jesus is the guy who does the thing with wine and fishes. No, not that one – the Christmassy one. Ah, the best kind of gift.
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Oh, like Tommy Cooper with the bottle and glass?
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Just like that!
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I have a horrifying secret to reveal…Art didn’t know who Tommy cooper was…I nearly went and sat on a chair only to nearly fall off it!
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Oh my! Art is usually very good on these matters, despite being a Yank. I hope you have educated him.
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I told him off big proper stylee! Just like a good teacher; I think he felt bad for not knowing…he knows his python, but I dread asking him for four candles…
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One can only hope he is educating himself as we speak… (definitely not a euphemism)
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Doesn’t stop the mental image forming thank you very much…
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Right. Yeah, sorry about that.
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That’s ok, the one of you opening your Christmas present overrides it perfectly!
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Huzzah!
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Reblogged this on Secret Diary Of PorterGirl.
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A prime minister that tells the truth…. unheard of!
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We really are breaking boundaries with our brave new government!
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HA HA!!! No wonder it’s all fantasy!
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Wishful thinking, more like! Still – I maintain that it is slightly less crazy than what is actually occurring in the world right now.
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I think you might just be right Lucy, and that’s quite a terrifying thought.
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Chancellor of the Exchequer Ian Risk and Nigel Farage were sat at the kitchen table
Tch tch, Ms Brazier. Pedantry Korner here:
“Chancellor of the Exchequer Ian Risk and Nigel Farage were sitting at the kitchen table”
As I’m an editor by one of my professions, I’ll have the customary six-figure invoice in the mail to you tomorrow.
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I thank you for your keen observation! As this is clearly the fault of the Chancellor, I shall be forwarding your invoice to him 😉 No doubt he will be most grateful!
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Look, if you think he’d be grateful for just one six-figure invoice, do you think he’d be even more grateful for several?
I only ask, you know. Not desperate.
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No doubt he would. I will endeavour to make as many grammatical errors on his behalf as I possibly can.
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PM Lucy is telling the truth? I just love all the twists and turns and the Lewis Carole interludes of Boris and Nigel. Keep up the good work!
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A slightly political truth, but the truth nonetheless! I just love writing Boris and Nigel – they are an absolute gift to a writer 🙂 I shall endeavour, my dear chap, I really shall!
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Good-o!!!!!
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I’m very good at writing speeches! I should have been your Press Secretary!
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Yes you should! I would appear every inch the stateswoman with your words at my disposal 🙂
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