Monday
Bit of a problem with the TV election debates. We want one debate. Mr Clegg wants three. Gordon wants 56 — two a day for four weeks of the campaign involving all our front-bench spokesmen. And he says he wants a special extended three-hour debate between Gids and Mr Darling with a ‘maths bee’, where they are made to do sums before a live studio audience. He sent Dave a note saying: ‘No calculators, just pencils without rubbers on the end.’ How silly. Dave did not reply of course. He does not do threatening ultimatums — it’s beneath him. We let Mr Boles deal with it. He sent a text to Gordon saying: ‘You’ve got to ask yourself, do you feel lucky? Well, do you, punk?’ Brilliant. Almost as good as the text he sent Boris after his conference speech, threatening to have his legs broken — in Italian! So clever. I’m beginning to see why Mr Boles is in charge of drawing up all our plans for government. (The last-minute extra ones, I mean. Obviously, all our main plans were 100 per cent ready ages ago.)
Tuesday
Mr Hague in a terrible state about poor Vaclav. Says he wants to go over there and plead with him in person. But Dave says that will just make matters worse. He told Mr Hague he would just jolly well have to take a decision about what we are going to do next. Mr H was totally confused: ‘A decision? You mean, a decision as in the act or process of deciiiiiiiding? You mean a CONcluuuusion or resolution reached as to future action after due CONsideration of all the various…’ I had to leave the room at that point for an urgent mission to reinvigorate the retail industry on the King’s Road, but I hear he went on for some time. He may still be going on now actually.
Wednesday
V exciting! Gary has agreed to a live election maths competition between Gids and Mr Darling on the condition that Carol Vorderman is the compere. We might also do Countdown conundrums. He says Cazza — or Baroness Vorderman of Prestatyn as she will soon be known — will look after us and we could easily wire up Gids in case we need to feed him the answers. Best to be on the safe side. He’s not used to doing sums without his abacus. Gordon will be laughing on the other side of his face now, especially after Mr Boles sent him a text saying: ‘Go ahead, make my day!’ This was swiftly followed by another one saying: ‘I love the smell of napalm in the morning…’ A third said: ‘Any of you ******* *****s move and I’ll execute every ******@#*&*** last one of you!’ With all this creative energy flying around, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. If the Countdown idea doesn’t work out, we should ask Anne Robinson to host an election special episode of The Weakest Link.
Thursday
Phew! That was a close thing. Wonky Tom just asked me how he would go about getting hold of a horse’s head for a project he and Mr Boles were working on!! I said I hoped they were not thinking of putting it in Gordon’s bed. Thankfully, he said they wouldn’t dream of doing a thing like that. No, this was an ‘internal matter’ to do with high-level, localised dissent on Lisbon. I gave him the number of the knacker’s yard in Wibberley. I’m pretty sure they’ll deliver to City Hall.
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