For a while now, the Labour Campaign Team have been intercepting traffic out of CCHQ in an act of electoral espionage, trying to establish what the opposition are up to.* This has had limited success, for the Tories seemed to be communicating in some strange code. Hours, days, months were spent trying to crack it. Experts were flown in from all over the country, or at least the parts where McBride et al live in a bit to decipher the mysterious messages.** Not even the world's foremost experts could crack it. The code remained a mystery. UNTIL NOW!
Yes. Ladies and Gentlemen, I can exclusively reveal that the code has been broken.
In this EXCLUSIVE*** I can reveal the secret**** document, from CCHQ itself, in which advice is given to Party officials as to how to draft messages in the secret code.
The document has the unassuming title "The New Logo & Party Visual Identity - A User's Guide". It sounds harmless, but what it contains is so explosive, that every intelligence agency in the world has, well, exploded.
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Yes. That's right. Latin. Tories write letters in latin. Intelligence sources believe that this may have been a sleeper network put into place across a number of public schools across the south of the country. Eton declined to comment.
This is a screenshot of Gordon midway through his ludicrous answer to Andrew Murrison's question on the Western Sahara at PMQs yesterday... (and yes, he had no idea what he was talking about)
Remember that petition on the No. 10 website for Brown to resign? Well, it has ammassed 72000 signatures and is still the largest on the site by over 20,000.
Well because today is the day it closes and that Downing Street have to consider it (insert snigger). No prizes for guessing what the reply will be, although we can live in hope...
There is something about Nick Robinson and Lord Mandelson in a small room together. You begin to think it is missing a scented candle or two, petals, a dimmer switch. But Mandy had left Randy Mandy at home. This was not Mandy Pandy, this was Action Mandy, and he was here to rescue the Party. Again...
We were urged to imagine a young Mandy, "if you could imagine such a thing". I'd rather not. I'd like to sleep tonight. It's that 'over friendly uncle' moustache that gets me. It's like the bogey monster on steroids. Action Mandy wasn't keen on the past (unsurprisingly, how many resignations?), he wanted to "fight back" (again). It was "down to the whole government and the whole Party", not just Gordon Brown. There was no finger pointing here. Finger crossing perhaps, but no finger pointing. The only pointing was towards the horizon. The "changemakers" are coming, and they will fight, not as "incumbents", but as "insurgents". Now there is something suitably alarming about this, not least because of what is clearly a misuse of the plural. Insurgents? Most of the Labour Party seem more inauspicious than insurgent. None of them seem to 'insurge' anything, let alone the Tories. No, this was no army. This was Action Mandy and his One-Mandy Militia and he was on a rescue mission.
Indeed, Nick was surprised that Mandy had already, personally, rescued half a million jobs. "At least", said Action Mandy, modesty firmly machine gunned. Actually that was not the only thing that was machine gunned. Nick wanted to know where that figure (suspiciously round if you ask me) came from; Mandy wanted to talk about the banks. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat... we were now talking about the banks. Action Mandy had rescued us all from the nasty banks, and now he wanted to rescue us from the "slash and burn" Tories (as opposed to 'crash and burn' Labour?) and their savage cuts and deep recession.
Alas, but how many had Action Mandy rescued with his Mortgage Rescue Scheme? "I'm not the Minister for Mortgage Rescue", protested Action Mandy. Must be one of the few things he isn't minister for. Six. What, thousand? Hundred? No. Just six. "Fine, you score a point", sulked Mandy, drawing a target on Robinson's forehead and stealing his lunch money. What would be his weapon of choice? "Fiscal adjustment". The government, claimed Mandy, "never disguised it". Never mind the disguise, I was struggling to decipher what 'it' was. Nick had a go, deflecting back Mandy's bullshit bullets. "Constraints, measures, choices"... "Cuts?" "You can use your language and I can use my language", insisted Mandy in the manner in which a hit man might discuss the merits of various handguns. It was clear. Action Mandy liked his bullshit, and "fiscal adjustment" was by far the best calibre.
Robinson looked defeated, but he had one last weapon up his sleeve. Mention Gordon. Especially his favourite 'Labour investment versus Tory cuts' mantra. Action Mandy looked like thunder. Mandy wasn't keen on Gordy, he'd just gotten rid of him for a month. Rat-tat-tat-tat. The bullets sailed towards CCHQ and what Mandy termed, 'the Tories' "undisguised glee at savage cuts"', with undisguised glee. This wasn't simply a "referendum on the government". No, Gordon doesn't like those. What was it then?
Then it became clear. Action Mandy and his One-Mandy Militia hadn't rolled into Downing Street to help re-decorate, it was here to stay. PM for PM? Action Mandy tried to assure us that he "can't just migrate from one House to another". I wasn't convinced, after all, he'd managed to migrate from one side to another. Nor was this "one comeback too many". The Militia wasn't in town to rescue the Party, or to selflessly save us all from Tory tyranny. Action Mandy and his One-Mandy Militia had its hands on the "levers of power", it wanted its bottom on the seat as well. On the nightmare front, that makes the moustache look tame. The Militia is well and truly in town. Mortgage rescue? More like Mandy rescue. I think it is time we armed ourselves...
"DAVID CAMERON MR 10%" the Labour Party website screamed at me. Here are some excerpts:
The Conservative Party has let the cat out of the bag and revealed that they plan to make spending cuts of 10 per cent across the majority of government departments.
There is a choice between Labour which believes we must grow our way out of recession - and the Conservatives who have revealed that they would cut the vast majority of public spending by ten per cent
I WANT TO HIT THINGS!
Brown tried this shit yesterday at PMQs and has been roundly pissed on in this morning's press. The language is so telling - "let the cat out of the bag" - at least Andrew Lansley had the decency to tell the truth. Heaven forbid a Labour minister could so carelessly be straight with the public. Except that Andy Burnham too, in Labour's words "let the cat out of the bag".
Andy Burnham effectively matched the Tories' spending proposals on Channel 4 news last night.
The difference between the two parties over public spending is not, as Brown would have us believe, Labour investment versus Tory cuts. It is Labour deception versus Tory decency.
This Tory version of the traditional Downfall video was quite funny, until I realised that had been uploaded by 'ukipmedia'. What really unnerved me was when Nigel Farrage does a voiceover at the end with some party logo stuff, urging people to find out more about UKIP... having just likened David Cameron to Hitler...
Don't get me wrong, I'm not objecting to the fact that it is a Tory version, I'm not that pathetically partisan. Granted most feature Gordon Brown, but they are hilarious when they are created for amusement purposes by people with a little too much time, whatever leader they depict. I just find it somehow different when used as part of a political campaign...
Not only is this video a wonderful illustration of what a tit Brown is - Obama beach (says a lot about the Queen fiasco, doesn't it?) - it also demonstrates just what a load of bullshit the PM spouts... often only to then fall into it...
Note the caption: tyranny may suppress, it cannot endure.
Pleasingly, well actually, maddeningly, ironic coming from the man who clings to power despite numerous clear signals that the public would quite happily string him up from a lampost with a variety of materials, a BNP banner being one... in fact, they already have. But of course, the rise of the BNP isn't Labour's fault right?
Oh yes, you keep deluding yourselves that it is the Tories' failure to talk about immigration that has given the BNP their platform. That will be why voters are deserting the "Conservatives" in hoards in the "Conservative heartland" of the North, and flooding to the BNP is it?
That doesn't wash... maybe it's not the Tories' fault?
Ah yes, expenses, that must be it - blame expenses. We're unpopular because of expenses. Worst election results ever, because of expenses. Come fifth in the south, because of expenses. Why not blame both? All those nasty rich Tories and their nasty moats *boo hiss*.
Presumably, if it is expenses, and seeing how awfully bad those nasty Tories have been, the Tories must have also taken a major hit...
Oh.. um...
Okay... err... maybe we can blame UKIP? Nasty UKIP with their nasty euroscepticism... the rise of the BNP and Labour's catastrophe must be their fault!? Because obviously, most UKIP voters are Labour voters right?
Wrong? They're Tories? Err... okay... scraping the barrel here.
Could the BNP have started in America? Labour's electoral crisis - a global crisis?... unprecedented...difficult times.
Whatever it is, it obviously is nothing to do with the leader... Gordon is the right man... (repeat after Mandy) ...the right man for the job. He is getting on with the difficult (yes Peter, I'm saying it I'm saying it) task of leading the country through these difficult ti...blahblahblah...
General Brown, under the orders of the First Secretary, hereby declares that he 'aint going anywhere, and woe betide anyone who suggests otherwise.
Gordon (sorry, that should read Mandelson) may suppress the dissent in the Cabinet, may suppress the dissent in the party, may suppress the dissent among the activists, but there is only so long that he can suppress the dissent in the country.
The tyranny of Gordon Brown and his First Secretary cannot endure. The question is whether the regime or democracy will crumble first.
There was a time when polls were kind When I floated aloft My words were uplifting There was a time when they were blind And the world came along Came along to the Docklands There was a time Then it all went wrong
I dreamed a dream in time gone by When polls were high And I was winning I dreamed that I would lead and fly I dreamed the public were forgiving Then I was tough and unafraid But plans were made and used and wasted There was no high debt to be paid No ploy unsung, no plot went wasted
But the vultures come at night With their voices harsh as thunder As they call for me to part And they turn my dream to shame
I spent a summer riding high And now my days are surely numbered I took recession in my stride But then McBride arose to fame
And still I dream of victory That I will live ten years in power There are no dreams that cannot be There are no storms I cannot weather
I had a dream the polls would be So different from this hell they’re showing So different now from what I seemed Now I have killed the dream I dreamed
The Telegraph has compiled a list of MPs' 10 favourite shops.
At 5 they have Oka:
"Designer furnishers co-founded by by Lady Annabel Astor, David Cameron's mother-in-law. Michael Gove - £238.50 for birdcage coffee table, March 2006 - Ed Vaizey, £671 Dordogne table, February 2007."
Highly amusing that the Telegraph's example consists of two ShadCab members. Funny old thing.
“Please tell me you’ve watched this” the email read. I hadn’t. I was watching a very important patch of recently applied viscous wall covering, dry. Still, it had to be worth a watch? And the wall was pretty much dry by this point.
I should have known better when the ‘change’ music came on. The violins a-chirped and up popped Clegg, face equally a-chirpy (he always looks so cheerful – he tried to get angry over the Ghurkas but only succeeded to look as though he was smiling through a bout of particularly bad heartburn).
“Well I’ve been doing town hall meetings for….” Oh God. We’re in patronising territory here, please don’t mention the ‘ordinary people’. Too late. Clegg was telling us that it wasn’t a policy… patronising pause, not a number, not a statistic. Close up on an ordinary person. Apparently it’s just doing things differently – ironic, this format seemed suspiciously familiar. The violins were still going like mad. We weren’t told what exactly ‘it’ was.
The cameraman clearly had no idea either, he’d clearly fallen asleep. Clegg was suddenly standing at a forty five degree angle. Close up on Clegg’s hands and an ‘ordinary person’ grinning like, well, Gordon Brown. There were many ‘special effects’. Perhaps the intern had found the ‘FX’ menu on Microsoft Movie Maker?
Clegg urged us to ‘just come and talk to him’, ask him anything. Hang on a minute. This is familiar. Clegg Direct anyone? No? Oh right, sorry, this was ‘Conversations with Nick Clegg’ (Part 1 – which means we have more of this to ‘look forward’ to). The Lib Dems must be keen on radical language reform because the last time I looked, conversation involved a little more than have someone answer a question. Tea and biscuits are definitely required. As is less of standing in the middle of what can only be described as a nuclear bunker, wafting your arms. Where were they filming this anyway? Turnstile!?
‘Conversations with Nick Clegg’ faded into black (I told you they’d found the ‘FX’) and then Nick Clegg faded back in again. We even got a helpful banner. “Nick Clegg – Leader of the Liberal Democrats”. Really? Lib Dem election broadcast with Nick Clegg? Wouldn’t have arrived at that conclusion on my own.
The violins had stopped. Clegg was getting serious – I’d turned off, it was dull now and we were only one minute in. It was like watching the head prefect in the school play. He was talking about swiss cheese and tax cuts. Tax cuts paid for by swiss cheese? Had I fallen asleep. Was this real? The Violins were going again as the text faded in (getting a bit advanced!). Tax cuts. Swiss Cheese. Lib Dems. The whole thing was cheesy – a bad imitation of a certain other election broadcast. This wasn’t conversation but condescension with Nick Clegg. I felt cheesed.
As I type, Dave has popped up, on the train, signing papers, in the car, touring the country doing Cameron Direct. Out of the main party leaders, so far it seems that he’s the only one who can see daylight.
1. “Moat? I didn’t claim for dredging my moat. That was the estuary. I couldn’t get the yacht up to the mooring.”
2. “Manure is utterly essential to carrying out my duties as an MP. It greases the cogs of the political system.”
3. “Using taxpayer’s money to build my property portfolio was a selfless attempt to kick start the housing market.”
4. “The bathplug was doing the taxpayer a favour. Since I’ve started claiming for my water bill, I hadn’t been bothering with a plug.”
5. “Dog food was a legitimate expense, Corby is employed as my parliamentary assistant. It comes under staff costs.”
6. “My gardening expenses may appear extravagant, but Prince Charles doesn’t come cheap and I have excellent vegetables.”
7. “They were energy saving light bulbs. That’s more an investment than an expense.”
8. “I don’t know what my constituents are complaining about. My planters give them something nice to look at.”
9. “Maintaining my estate is at the taxpayer’s expense is just fiscal stimulus. I am helping fight off the recession by contributing greatly to local employment.”
10. “You’re right. I defrauded the taxpayer. I’ll be handing myself in to the police.”
Dear Constituents, I feel that, following revelations in the Telegraph regarding the expenses of MPs, I should issue a statement on the matter. It is damaging for trust, for the House and for our political system in general. Some have commented that my seven homes are indefensible. I have also attracted criticism for supposedly ‘flipping’ my second home between them over the past year. This was not a matter of personal profit, but personal security. If I had the choice, I’d have only one home, but, as it stands, I have to have seven for security purposes. These ‘decoy homes’ are a means of ensuring my security so that I am fully able to execute my parliamentary and constituency business. As for the flipping, this was not because I wished to decorate my homes at the taxpayer’s expense before selling them for a profit. It was merely to protect the identity of my primary residence, and to ensure that terrorists could not work out which of my homes were mere ‘decoy homes’. The trauma of having to move between seven homes, including one in Tuscany, has been a burden I was willing to carry to fully serve my constituents. The furnishing of these decoy homes is integral to this security strategy. It is also essential that they are furnished in keeping with the area. If I were to paint a Notting Hill home in anything other than Farrow and Ball it would be obvious to any terrorist that such a home could not be real. I have been forced to sell homes and purchase new ones due to intelligence that they had been compromised. Any profit made was not actually profit, but “profit” designed to give the appearance of profit, normalising the rapid and suspicious sale of the house. As “profit” is not actually profit, it is exempt from CGT. All the above claims were made within the rules and all were granted by the fees office. I, however, accept that this isn’t enough, which is why I must apologise. I am most awfully sorry that I have been caught following the rules. In future I shall be certain to ensure that this does not happen again. Yours in dutiful service, Rt. Hon. J. Lewis MP
P.S. Must dash - doorbell. That will be the furniture delivery.
The (proverbial) sun was shining brightly in the Chamber today. Gordon listed his engagements, lips curling into a.. oh no! A smile. And it all went downhill from there, for his outer smile may be all smiley (or should that be scary), but his inner smile is but a grimace of rage (as Prescott demonstrated). Dave was confident, dancing around, red cape a-swishing, remarkably upbeat for someone whose bike had been stolen. Again. At least it was chained to something other than a bollard this time. He really has developed into a PM in waiting.
Dave wanted to know about (rub in) Gordon’s apocalyptic week. The cape a-swished, the trumpet a-sounded. Gordon was released into the ring, unimpressed, for he wanted a good old crisis. Gordon likes crises, he can do ‘swine flu’ – the jury’s still out on the ‘economy’ and the ‘difficult decisions’, my guess is it won’t be favourable. All he’s managed to do is to take some very simple decisions, make them very difficult, and then announce the resulting disaster on youtube.
“We’re getting on with the business of governing”, insisted Gordy. There is clearly some disparity in what constitutes ‘governing’. Dave gave another swish of the cloak, wafting it around the chamber towards the Communities Secretary who sensibly hid behind the Speaker’s chair. Hazel wasn’t getting involved, she’d already stuck her knife in. Gordon gurned (sorry, smiled) like an idiot. Out came the old ‘do nothing’ jibe, Dave wafted the cape a bit more. Wafty-waft, “youtube if you want to”, waft, waft. Gordon began to see red.
“We are taking action…” He was interrupted by gales of laughter from the Tory Cuadrilla poised to gallop in, lances ready. Tory cuts, u-turns, hug a hoodie. “Compassionate Conservatism has gone, gone…” err, Gordon hesitated, where was this going again? “Gone?”. Dave drew his sword. “I’m sure that sounded just great in the bunker, whilst the mobile phones and printers were flying”. Dave was now flying, back and forth, around and around, red cape a-swishing. Gordy stormed after him. Dave wanted a general election. Gordon charged. Gordon wanted to talk about issues, not listen to jibes from a party “in the dark ages”. The whole exchange was getting more like the dark ages by the minute. When was the last time swords were drawn and blood shed in parliament? Must be a t least three weeks. Dave sidestepped, but Gordon was not giving up. He lined up for one last charge. “He is completely out of his depth when it comes to the big issues in this country.” Ouch! Matador Dave had been speared on a horn and retired to the front bench to nurse the wound. Gordon did a victory circuit around a planted question.
Time for the Lib Dem interval, but this was not the usual funny dancing, or naff 80s music. Clegg entered the ring, knife already drawn. “There comes a point when stubbornness is not leadership; it is stupidity.” Dust was already appearing around Gordon’s feet. Clegg taunted him with “vacuous”, and then with “saving his own skin”. Gordy charged again, straight onto the outstretched knife, then blamed Clegg for attacking him. A bit rich from the man who once owned Damian MacBride.
Dave was bloody, but still fighting strong to orchestrate the final Tory push. Every Tory in the chamber was red to the PM (not in a Guardian-esque sense of the word I must assert). Question after question Dave’s Cuadrilla of Red Tories came galloping in on horseback, swords drawn, and question after question repeatedly stuck them into the Prime Minister. Petitions, elections, Gurkhas, they all drew blood. Gordon charged around after them. The Labour benches had given up - retiring to the proverbial greenhouse to cultivate a series of plants. Mighty Dave handed the sword to Stephen Crabb. Crabb stepped forward, sword in one hand, muleta in the other. “What does the Prime Minister intend to do about the important issue of bullying in the workplace, given the reliable reports of a senior Whitehall boss throwing around mobile phones and printers and swearing at switchboard operators?” Brown was no longer seeing red, he was seeing blue. He stormed towards Crabb in rage. “Any complaints are dealt with in the usual manner.” Crabb had plunged the great sword of Dave the Mighty Matador straight into Gordy’s one ‘nerve’. The Tory benches took cover in case the PM had a Nokia or two on him. The crowd cheered. Labour fell silent. Johnson risked a smile. Dave had better be careful not to kill this weak bull, for that risks the possibility of a much stronger replacement.
