Melissa Kite Melissa Kite

Our local Tory candidate’s leaflet was the most disturbing of them all

When I looked at the A3-sized sheet, I was flabbergasted

‘Oh, it’s you!’ said the builder boyfriend to the Tory MP in his shooting jacket, as he made his way down the street handing out leaflets.

The BB was standing outside his builder’s yard in suburban south-west London where he enjoys a good argument at election time. During the referendum campaign, he fixed a placard to his roof declaring his support for Brexit. When the London lefties walked past visibly struggling with their gag reflex, he disgusted them further by bidding them good morning in a cheerful, courteous tone.

If they did stop to argue, they would soon regret it, as the BB is not to be argued with. He simply machine-guns you with facts.

What the Remoaners in his street hate most of all is his grasp of the detail. He has a razor-sharp mind, a photographic memory for figures and an in-depth understanding of historical events that would rival an Oxford don.

He engages the organic mohair-wearing vegans whose million pound homes surround his bashed-up old builder’s yard on a level that offends their preconceptions so deeply they are traumatised.

I’ve seen their faces. ‘Can’t you just be the ignorant working-class oik we want you to be and admit you don’t know anything about the EU?’ is what their expressions say.

The problem is, despite having no formal education, he knows more than they do. As soon as the Conservative MP saw him, he recoiled in horror. He has been on the end of it before.

‘Ah, now, I want a word with you,’ said the builder b, striding towards him. The MP clutched his leaflets to his exquisitely tailored tweeds in panic and stepped back as the BB, in paint-spattered jeans and steel toe-capped boots, approached him saying: ‘I want you to know that faced with the choice on the ballot paper, I would rather vote for an utter [insert insult, I can’t repeat the one he used] like you than end up with Corbyn in power.

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