Chapter 18 In which Charlie Windsor arrives in town

Charlie Windsor arrived in Wesphalia-on-Sea in 2002, a fast-track candidate who could depend on the support of the big guns in the Conservative Party. As he looked out of the window at, ... well, he wasn't sure where it was exactly that he was looking at, but as he looked out of the window at it he said to himself: 'This is my Holy Grail; one day all of this will be mine.'
'What, the curtains?' Asked his wife, who had just come into the room.
'No, not the bloody curtains. this place. West or Eastphalia, or Fishhole, whatever it is that we can see out of the window.'
'Oh, I see.'
'Do you know, darling, I feel as though I'm on a mission. I feel the hand of history on my shoulder. I think I'll paraphrase Jonathan Aitken in my first speech to the local party members. He cleared his throat and began: 'If it falls to me to start a fight to cut out the yellow cancer of Liberal-Democracy in Westphalia-on-Sea with the simple sword of truth and the trusty shield of British fair play, so be it.'
'Very impressive, darling, I'm sure. Now I'm just popping out to the shops. Oh, but maybe that Aitken fellow isn't such a good role model; didn't he commit perjury and end up in the nick? Bye!'
'Yes, bye, darling.'

Charlie's brief from Conservative Central Office had been simple. Get yourself settled in, then start getting yourself known. Write to the local paper, and then try and get your face in the rag as often as possible. People needed to know who he was and what he stood for. When he asked them what they did stand for they weren't quite sure, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. It seemed straightforward enough, but there was a slight problem - attacking Labour, as the party leadership did day-in, day-out, wasn't going to get him very far, because Westphalia-on-Sea didn't have, in fact, had never had, a Labour MP, and was very unlikely to have one any time soon. No, our Charlie was going to have to attack the Lib-Dem MP, Brian Localbloke. Of course, the only problem with this was that Brian seemed to be fairly well liked in the town - he had grown up in Eastphalia, went to school in Westphalia-on-Sea and was an avid fan of Westphalia United, getting to as many games as his Westminster commitments would allow. No, Charlie had to play this one very carefully, or the whole plan might blow up in his face. Charlie discussed the conundrum with party officials, and they advised having a go at the local Lib-Dem council. Local councillors were often unpopular, so if he could build up a bit of momentum against them, some of the shit might just stick to Localbloke.

Charlie set about his task with gusto. He had to phrase his letters very carefully at first, because in the early days, being an outsider, he didn't know shit from shite where local politics and the local area were concerned. A few locals rumbled him straightaway, but his letters were so tediously dull that most people just ignored him and hoped he'd just go away. As the months turned to years he became bolder, and began referring to 'the many years of Lib-Dem mismanagement', implying that he had lived in Westphalia-on-Sea a lot longer than he actually had. He lost the 2005 election, but he decided to stick around and have one more go at getting on the Westminster gravy train. Yes, he could spend another couple of years telling any Westphalian that would listen how Baghdad was better than this place; his only fear was that as he ran the place down no-one would ask him the really tricky question, namely 'why had he moved to this dismal shithole in the first place?'

So dear readers, this explains why our intrepid Mayor, Dr Pangloss, had such a vocal supporter in Charlie Windsor.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Where I live is not unlike Westphalia. It is also has a mayor. Our mayor is very rude about his Tory MP, or is it a wood be MP? Can't remember which. Of course as they are both Tories the mayor always says nice things about him in public and the MP, or wood be MP says nice things about her.

Anonymous said...

Hope the donkeys and dinosaurs of the Herald Excess are reading this. As this is as much about you snivelling boot-lickers as it is our deluded kingpin...

Anonymous said...

Boot?