Chapter 17 In which we learn the political history of Westphalia-on-Sea

Some readers may now be wondering how the character of Charlie Windsor suddenly came to appear in Westphalia-on-Sea. 'Where did he come from and why is he here?' I hear you ask. All valid questions which will be answered in good time, but first a little political history is necessary.

Once upon a time back in the sixties and seventies the people of Westphalia-on-Sea lived in a glorious socio-economic bubble. There were fish in the sea, tourists aplenty, and work for all who wanted it. There were no ethnic minorities, and no-one had to go down a mine or work in the steel industry, or make cars on a production-line, or inhale cotton dust for eight hours a day. Indeed, if Pangloss had been around at the time he would certainly have called it the best of all possible worlds. One consequence of this blissful paradise was that the people of Westphalia-on-Sea became very Conservative, with a big 'C'. In a nutshell, the vast majority believed that politics was best left to people with sensible haircuts who had been to private schools and said 'lavatory' instead of 'toilet'. To make it easier for voters to make a sensible choice, these people were also given knighthoods, so it was clear where you should put your cross on the ballot paper. So it was then, that the MP for Westphalia-on-Sea for many years was Sir Bufton Tufton.

Even as council tax riots began breaking out around the country, and Britain became a kind of off-shore American nuclear base, Westphalia-on-Sea remained a glorious shade of blue. Eventually Sir Bufton Tufton retired, and was replaced by the dashing James Rupertson. He was a real jet-setter, too suave and sophisticated for Westphalia-on-Sea really, so he could hardly be blamed for spending very little time there. He also found the Westphalians a rather disagreeable bunch, so he spent most of his time writing spy stories instead of dealing with their problems. He was probably not the most conscientious of MPs, but he looked rather dashing and spoke very nicely, so the Westphalians were more than grateful - after all, they reasoned, in some parts of the country the people were represented by men with beards and northern accents. When Mrs Thatcher stockpiled imported coal and then began closing most of the north of England, and then began selling off every asset the country had, some people thought the Westphalians would finally take the hint, but no; it was beginning to look as if a bladder on a stick would be returned to Parliament with the best wishes of the people of Westphalia-on-Sea as long as it was sporting a blue rosette. In fact it was only after the Tories lost an estimated £3.4 billion of everybody's money on Black Wednesday that the Westphalians began to think it might just be time to stop voting for them.

At long last the Tory stranglehold over Westphalia-on-Sea was broken in 1997 when James Rupertson was defeated by his Lib-Dem rival, Brian Localbloke. The Tories were mortified, especially as they were beaten by just 12 votes. This was the absolute beauty of democracy in action. The Tories could understand losing marginal seats in the Midlands, but Westphalia-on-Sea? - it was unthinkable. Oh well, it was just a blip, and they would win the seat back at the next election. In the meantime Brian Localbloke duly went about his business at Westminster, held regular surgeries around the Cote de Westphalia and dealt with the problems of his constituents as quickly and efficiently as possible. At the next election in 2001 the Tories put up their own local man, but the people of Westphalia-on-Sea were having none of it - Brian Localbloke saw his majority go up to about 6,000. Now the Tories were heading for meltdown - their slapheaded baby-faced leader resigned the next day before most people had had their breakfast.

A new slaphead was drafted in to lead the Tories. There could be no room for complacency now; they must be focused. Westphalia-on-Sea was a target seat for the next election, but the local Conservatives couldn't produce anyone who could walk and chew gum at the same time, let alone win an election. Their only viable tactic was to parachute in a candidate from elsewhere, and that man was Charlie Windsor.