sea_gale

Chapter 6

The next day I woke up in my bed. I put on a black pinstripe suit from Davies and Son that had a subtly waisted cut to the jacket and a Turnbull and Asser shirt and bespoke loafers that were black. I put on gold cufflinks, a moss green silk tie, and a Rolex watch. I combed my hair, and ran my fingers through it a bit to make it slightly messier.

In the House of Commons dining room, I ate some organic muesli with champagne instead of milk, and a glass of champagne. Suddenly someone bumped into me. All the champagne spilled over my shirt.

“Bastard!” I shouted angrily. I regretted saying it when I looked up cause I was looking into the ruddy pink face of an MP with black hair with white hairs in it. He was wearing so much concealer that I was going down his face and he was wearing translucent powder. He didn’t have a mandate anymore and now he was wearing a green tie just like Nick’s. He had a manly stubble on his chin. He had a sexy English accent. He looked exactly like Tony Blair. He was so sexy that my body went all hot when I saw him kind of like an erection only I’m a happily married man so I didn’t get one you sicko.

“I’m so sorry.” he said in a shy voice.

“That’s all right. What’s your name?” I questioned.

“My name’s David Miliband, although most people call me Tory these days.” he grumbled.

“Why?” I exclaimed.

“Because I love the taste of the blood of the working class.” he giggled.

“Well, I am a Tory.” I confessed.

“Really?” he whimpered.

“Yeah.” I roared.

We sat down to talk for a while. Then Nick came up behind me and told me he had a surprise for me so I went away with him.

Chapter 7

Nick and I gesticulated with our hands discussing policy as we went upstairs. I waved to Tory. Dark misery was in his depressed eyes. I guess he was jealous of me that I had formed a coalition with Nick. Anyway, I went upstairs excitedly with Nick. We went into a board room and locked the door. Then…………

We started passively discussing European policy, (with special reference to the French) and we took off each others jackets enthusiastically. He made a joke in French («C'est quoi un squelette dans un placard? Un prep stupide qui a gagné à une partie de cache-cache…»¹) before I loosened my tie. Then I took off my green silk tie and he took off his lime green one. We sat down at the table and started debating in our shirtsleeves and then he suggested a fresh point of view and we DECIDED TO STAY OUT OF THE EUROZONE AT THE PRESENT TIME.

“Oh Nick, Nick!” I screamed while solidifying our frame of reference when all of a sudden I saw a tattoo I had never seen before on Nick’s arm. It was a blue heart with an arrow through it. On it in champagney gothic writing were the words………… Tory!

I was so angry.

“You bastard!” I shouted angrily, jumping out of my chair.

“No! No! But you don’t understand!” Nick pleaded. But I knew too much.

“No, you fucking idiot!” I shouted. “You probably believe in a state owned Royal Mail anyway!”

I put on my jacket and tie all huffily and then stomped out. Nick ran out even though he was in his shirt sleeves. He had a really excellent command of languages but I was too mad to care. I stomped out and did so until I was in Tory’s board room where he was chairing a select committee with Peter Mandelson and some other people.

“TORY MILLIBAND, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” I yelled.

¹ What's the definition of a skeleton in the closet? A stupid prep² who has won a game of hide and seek³

² A more direct translation of "prep" is BCBG (bon chic, bon gens [good style, good upbringing]). This translation was used in the French adaptation of My Immortal, but I consider it to be highly non idiomatic.

³ This joke is normally told against the Belgians. But I didn't want to be racist (especially not against people who make such lovely chocolate ;))⁴

⁴ That's enough footnotes now.