A guest post from one of my favourite writers!
On board the Gravy Train
Smiling smugly Michael closed the door, walked over to the table and sat down.
‘Well you’ve done it this time Michael, you craft old fox.’ Mark grinned. ‘I reckon cocaine trumps smoking opium every time.
Michael’s smile broadened. ‘Yeah. Man of the people. They’ll see me as one of their own.’
Rory shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Don’t forget I’m a walker. I get around, connect with people. And no Dominic, it’s walker, with an L.’
Dominic laughed loudly. ‘You’re all wasting your time. I’m a black belt. I’m hard. It’s common sense that my Brexit will be the hardest.’
‘In your dreams, big boy.’ Esther’s eyes shone with contempt. ‘My Blue Collar Brexit is harder than yours. I’m going to attract all the working class racists in the country. And there’s plenty of them. They know they can trust me to do the right thing!’
Michael’s face twisted into a sneer. ‘But Esther dear, you’re noted for telling lies.’
‘So what? It was good enough for Maggie and Theresa, it’ll do for me. You’re not overly averse to a bit of ducking and diving yourself, and anyway, what about Boris? That business with the courts has given us the green light to say anything we want.’
‘Talking of Boris, where is he?’ Jeremy looked confused. ‘I mean, he should be here by now shouldn’t he?’
Andrea burst out laughing. ‘He’s gone to a meeting.’
Sajid leaned forward. ‘What meeting? Where’s it at?
‘I don’t know, but whatever it is, he thinks it’s going to give him an edge in the election.’ She smiled. ‘He’s wasting his time. I’m the only one with the compassion for, and empathy with, the ordinary people, and that’s what’s really needed to unite the country behind us.’
Sajid smirked. ‘You’ve no chance. I’m the only one who can pull the country together and my Brexit will be the hardest of all.’
‘Butt out Porky,’ Dominic grinned evilly. ‘You’re just a joke, what with the Alexi Sayle impersonation and all that. I’m the one for number 10. It’s obvious.’
‘It’s obvious you’re an idiot. Don’t speak to me like that again.’
Dominic slipped from his chain, did ten lightning press-ups, bounded to his feet and adopted a fighting stance.
‘Or what Porky? I’ve told you. Butt out or I’ll nut you.’
Mark jumped up, bellowed in his best Whip’s voice, ‘sit down Dom! Leave him alone! And by the way, your flies are undone.’
‘As I was saying,’ Sajid continued, ‘I’m the man for the job and what’s more I’m going to be really tough on crime, terrorism and especially immigration.’
Mark smirked. ‘Have you looked in the mirror lately?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’m accepted. I’ve got the common touch. My dad was a bus driver.’
Andrea pulled a face. ‘I went on a bus once. Frightful experience. All those common people. And the smell. Ugh!’
Matt shook his head in bewilderment. ‘What’s a bus?’
There was general laughter.
‘Never caught a bus in my life.’ Rory stared into space. ‘I’m a walker. I connect with people.’
Jeremy laughed. ‘What a bunch. Look guys. There’s only going to be one winner. Me. I’ve got Donny on my side and when I get into number 10 I’m going to sell him the NHS. My trade deal will be much bigger than any of yours. Just think what it’ll do for Party funds.’
Matt rubbed his chin. ‘The NHS isn’t up for sale, is it?’ Again the laughter rang. Mark patted him on the arm. ‘Not this week Matt. Just sit there and be quiet.’
Michael leaned back in his chair. He grinned smugly. ‘I think we all agree, the job calls for a real professional, and I’m the man for the job. Watch and learn.’
Esther flicked the long hair out of her eyes. ‘How can any of you seriously think you can beat me? I’ve got the looks and I’ve got the policies.’
‘You’ve certainly got the mouth,’ Dominic gazed around the room. ‘I’m the hardest, the cleverest. I’ve got the hardest Brexit and what’s more I’m going to cut taxes.’
Michael sneered again. He was good at it. ‘Aren’t we all? C’mon now. Isn’t that what it’s all about? A proper meritocracy? Promote enterprise. Reward success. Tax cuts for those who really deserve it.’
There was a general murmur of assent, but before anyone could speak further the door burst open.
‘Ah Boris. At last,’ Andrea smiled. ‘You’re looking very pleased with yourself. Have you found your, er, edge?’
Boris removed his cycle helmet with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘I certainly have and what’s more it’s official. It’ll be tomorrow’s headlines in the Daily Mail. You lot may as well pull out of the contest right now.’
Andrea shook her head. ‘What have you gone and done now Boris?’
Boris beamed. He spread his arms and paused in dramatic effect. ‘I’ve sold my soul to the Devil. Top that you losers.’
There was a silence as the contestants shared looks of incredulity. Then someone giggled and in a second they were all helpless with laughter.
Michael, shaking with mirth, crossed the room, placed his arm around the shoulders of the bemused Boris and, when he was composed enough to speak. ‘O Boris, Boris, what are we going to do with you? Did you not realize? We all did that years ago. Every single one of us.’