Lord A.N. R. Sole and the Con U Party
‘Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen and welcome to this first meeting of the Constituent Unionist Party. My name is Lord Andrew Nelson Rupert Sole and I am your local candidate.’
The introduction was met with mild applause from the small audience.
‘My task today is a simple one; I have to tell you why you should vote for me and the Con. U. Party. Nothing could be simpler.’
He strutted the stage, hand on chin, frowning while the audience waited in mild anticipation. Finally he stopped mid-stage and glowered at them, his eyes darting from one to the other.
‘We are the only party which has real answers to all the problems facing this great country. Real solutions!’
A murmur of exasperation went up. Lord Sole nodded in acknowledgement.
‘I know,’ Lord Sole chortled, throwing his hands in the air, ‘every Party says that, don’t they? But we really do!’
The audience did not look convinced.
‘We took a survey of all the issues that were vexing you and have come up with a solution for each and every one: immigration, war in Ukraine, NHS waiting lists, poverty, the cost of living, education standards and rough sleeping. I am pleased to say that the Con U Party is the only party with a radical solution for each of these.’
‘Heard it all before,’ a young man shouted.
‘You may scoff, sir but you shall see,’ Lord Sole replied, fixing the man with eyes as dark as black holes, wagging his finger at him. ‘This party believes in action, in deterrence, in firm response and dealing with things head on. No namby pamby stuff from the Con U’s! We will act!’
When there was no further response he continued.
‘We have been plagued by hordes of small boats, an invasion of foreign criminals! And we mean to put a stop to it! Yes we do!’ He stood tall, pumping his chest out. ‘If we don’t deter this army of foreign scoundrels we shall be swamped! Swamped I say!’ He peered angrily at the crowd from under bushy eyebrows that billowed like grey storm clouds. ‘Five million Turks alone are trying to get to the UK and that’s apart from the whole populations of Syria, Libya, Iraq and Afghanistan! We have to stand firm! Our national sovereignty is at risk! Our very Britishness! These rapists, drug-dealers and terrorists are intent on destroying our way of life! They must be stopped at all costs!’ His whole body shook with barely contained passion.
The crowd shifted in their seats. They’d heard it all before. ‘How you gonna do that then?’ the young heckler shouted derisively. Lord Sole glowered at him.
‘The people smugglers are making billions,’ Lord Sole was up and running and wasn’t going to be put off his stride by the ignorant and impudent, ‘sending people across the channel on their flimsy lilos and dinghies and drowning millions. Millions!’ He shook his head in a show of abject disgust and then continued in a sorrowful tone. ‘We’re going to show we care by saving all those poor people from this terrible fate at the hands of these callous mercenaries. We’re looking to deploy a deterrent – a deterrent that really works.’
Lord Sole glared at the heckler, daring him to interrupt again. ‘We in the Con U’s have looked at two cast-iron methods of preventing access to our glorious land and thwarting these merciless profiteers.’ He shook his head theatrically. ‘We rejected the idea of building a forty foot wall around Britain as being impractical.’ The heckler let out a loud guffaw. Lord Sole was not to be put off. He smirked at the audience. ‘No. We wanted something that would really put a stop to this whole money-making, people-smuggling racket, put a stop to this illegal immigration once and for all!’ He paused for effect. ‘We’re simply going to mine the entire coastline instead. Any small boats trying to get through will be blown to bits! That’ll teach those people smugglers. At first we might lose a few poor women and children, blown up, the bleeding hearts will howl, but the reality is that the callous profiteers will soon stop trying and all those millions of poor people will be saved! The sacrifice of a few will save the lives of countless millions!’ He puffed out his cheeks and sighed deeply. ‘And the fools say we don’t care.’
The audience sat stunned. Even the heckler seemed lost for words.
Lord Sole seized the silence to press ahead triumphantly. ‘Now I shall explain how we in the Con U’s propose to end the war by nuking Ukraine!’
783 words
I once saw a builder’s sign, in front of a house he was working on: “R. Sole.”
I had an English teacher called Lawrence Roland Sole. He used to write Mr L R Sole on the bord. We called him the Spanish bum. He was the inspiration.