Another honours list comes and goes and yet again my name is not on it. I don’t think either the Prime Minister or Jeremy Corbyn realises the hurt that this flagrant oversight engenders, both in myself and of course in my public. For countless years I have tried, selflessly, to make the world a better place, to illuminate the poor and the downtrodden with the light of love. I have endeavoured, wherever I can, in my own way, to bring comfort to the sick — not only those who are physically infirm, but also mentals. And yet — nothing, nix.
More pertinently, with regard to the latest honours list from David Cameron, I was at a party at the end of last year and offered Sam Cam a fag. Given the sorts of people who Dave has ennobled, I would have thought that was worth a CBE at the very least. It was one of those parties where people kept coming up and saying to me ‘I don’t smoke, but…’ — and in this way my stock of Superkings was depleted within the hour. I was down to my last five or six when I saw Samantha standing there, clearly gagging for a gasper. This act of kindness, like so many others, went-unrewarded.
I suppose one should consider virtue to be its own reward and not hanker after mere baubles. But it is not for myself that I entreat, you understand — it is simply a wish on my part to rehabilitate the honours system in the eyes of the public. Too often I hear people decry what they call a charade, citing the awards doled out to cronies, lickspittles, wankers, desiccated mandarins, half-witted sportswomen, professional lesbians, time-serving persistent vegetative state dullards, pompous community panjandrums and smirking air-headed luvvies. Their descriptions, not mine. Why are gongs never given to someone truly deserving, they inquire? So if my name suddenly appeared on the list, these complaints would immediately be rendered otiose.
Almost all of Cameron’s 13 nominations for peerages went to people who might reasonably be assumed to fit very comfortably into a multiplicity of the categories above, and several may fit in a multiplicity of categories. As a consequence there was a sort of mild outrage — a level of public annoyance roughly equivalent to that provoked when a Muslim bloke stabs a few people to death in a crowded street. That is, moderate annoyance of the kind we are subjected to pretty much every day. As a consequence, Dave is to be hauled before a House of Commons committee to justify his nominations, which I dare say he will do with the carefree panache of a man who has finally got the hell out and couldn’t care less what Bernard Jenkin MP, the committee chairman, has to say about the matter.
And yet there is at least one name on his list of peerages that really stinks, and it is not a name that was originally put forward by our former prime minister. The suggestion came instead from Chauncey Gardiner, leader of the-opposition. Jezza demanded that Shami Chakrabarti be made a peer.
How bad is that? A matter of months ago, Corbyn importuned the former boss of the campaign group Liberty to oversee an internal party investigation into the rampant anti-Semitism that exists on the far left and in Muslim sections of Labour. Chakrabarti accepted with alacrity and immediately announced she would be joining the party — an odd thing to do, you might think, for someone charged with being neutral and independent on the issue. Chakrabarti dutifully presided over an embarrassing whitewash of an investigation, an utter farrago which will have convinced Labour’s rapidly dwindling ranks of Jewish supporters that the party’s leadership cared about as much about their sensibilities as it did about the former bedrock of its support, the white working class. You may have seen the fiasco of a press conference on television, at which the results of this hilarious ‘investigation’ were unveiled with Shami sitting alongside the bearded dunderhead Corbyn and prompting him with the approved answers to questions from the press. That earnest and implacably self-regarding expression upon her face. The neutral boss of the so-called inquiry: clearly not neutral, clearly not independent. If the Tories proceeded in such a manner there would have been legions of shrieking lefties in Parliament Square, screaming for justice and shouting the usual ‘Shame on you!’ stuff.
At the same press conference, incidentally, one Labour woman was herself the subject of an anti-Semitic attack by the thick-as-mince far-left activist Marc-Wadsworth, who was later seen enjoying a cosy tête-à-tête with Corbyn. Jezza, the man who once called Hamas and Hezbollah his friends, just in case those Jewish Labour party members should be in any doubt, inshallah.
And so Chakrabarti, whose reputation is surely now sullied beyond repair, is booted into the House of Lords as a reward for this useful service — and Corbyn is either too thick or too indifferent to notice how shoddy it looks.
Meanwhile, I’m still waiting to find out whether I’m still suspended from the Labour party, having noted that my subscriptions continue to be deducted from my bank account. I had rather hoped to be cross-examined by Shami herself, but I’ve heard nothing. I was told that at my forthcoming disciplinary tribunal I could take a friend with me who was, however, not allowed to speak. I wondered about taking a mime artist, or my dog, Jessie, but have now settled upon a Kimmi Lovecok Realistic Vagina and Ass Inflatable Love Doll ©, available online for less than 40 quid, or about two months’ Labour party subs.
I think Kimmi would provide the moral support I need. Apparently you can bend her legs back behind her ears. I am not sure if it is best to do this before I enter the tribunal, or while they are taking their places and sorting out their charge sheets etc. All advice gratefully received.