Tamzin Lightwater

Diary of a Notting Hill nobody | 27 March 2010

Tamzin Lightwater's unique take on the week

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Rejoice! Rejoice! That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. I don’t want to gloat, I don’t want to make any obvious points like ‘Gordon, you’re so screwed,’ because that would be in poor taste. V moving moment when Dave came into the office this morning and we all chanted ‘Da-vid Da-vid!’ and made whooping noises. Mr Maude went nuts trying to shut everyone up: ‘We mustn’t be seen holding a baby shower this close to polling day!’ I think Tom had only shouted out ‘We’re alright!’ in a Welsh drawl as a sort of joke. But it wasn’t funny because it gave Mr Maude breathing difficulties. So we all agreed to not mention the happy news in public again. Much. Dave v focused and serious. ‘Tamara [it’s his special name for me], get me the list of difficult policy pledges we need to, er, do something about.’ Can’t think why he needs those.


Mr Pickles in a terrible state. Some left-wing trolls got into our Facebook campaign and did a mass Twitter hack (that’s trendy webspeak btw) and now he’s beside himself with worry about our Budget Response Crowd Sourcing event tomorrow. This is v exciting: basically, you, the voter, tune into the Budget and as Mr Darling is on his feet you email, text or tweet us ideas of what to say and we send them to Gids’s BlackBerry! Good luck everyone! We’ll be rooting for you all! Dave gave us another pep talk in the hub today. It’s so crowded I had to stand on Jenny’s shoulders so I could see. Dave was inspirational: ‘No more autocues, lecterns, soundbites, speeches and spin. From now on, it will just be me talking to real people...’ Unfortunately Jenny then dropped the cue cards — probably my fault — so he had to wind up.


Phew! It really is like a sweatshop in this war room. And I don’t see why I’m perched on the end of a row of desks when Poppy has her own place sitting the right way round (facing Dave). I’m totally overworked and Nigel has now burdened me with a massive project. Dave wants us to set up a ‘real meeting with real people’ tonight. How am I supposed to find ‘real people’ at this short notice? We may have to bus in a load of Conservative Future members from the Under 16s division again. They’re super well behaved. Those ones we used in Shoreditch were so docile we had to keep reminding them to breathe. One poor girl went purple and fainted halfway through his speech. Sorry, I don’t mean speech. Dave doesn’t do speeches any more. I mean... what do I mean? Crowd Showering?


Mrs Hague rings to say she won’t do it. She says she doesn’t even know if there are any old photos in an attic which a friend of hers is about to ‘accidentally’ stumble upon. Told her not to worry, it’s all a bit surplus to requirements now, although if she did happen to remember a bikini modelling shoot she’d forgotten about she should definitely let us know. To more serious matters — Mr Pickles has asked me to pass on the following urgent message: “Dear voter, there’s another online project you can now get involved in. This weekend we will be taking submissions by email, text and tweet for Our Manifesto 2010 Crowd Sourcing Event.’ Well, what are you waiting for?!