DIAMONDS ARE FOR TAXING by Polly Toynbee
“Bond walked at a brisk pace, checking the time on his Rolex Oyster Perpetual: he was late for his meeting with M. An engagement at his tailor in Conduit street had delayed him: unavoidable. In life, there were always priorities. He reached for his black gun-metal cigarette case and black oxidised Ronson lighter and then remembered, with irritation, that smoking had been banned throughout the Service. The woman responsible, Miss Moneypolly, stood in the doorway.
“You’re late, James. Don’t forget that you are a public sector worker like anyone else. If you had gone to a neighbourhood comprehensive rather than Fettes you might be less class-ridden and arrogant in your workplace practices.”
“Ah, Moneypolly,” he said. “Miss Moneypolly. You are a vision as ever.” He threw his umbrella on to the stand.
“It’s Ms Moneypolly, actually. Please don’t force me to report you to the departmental FDA rep and my line manager for unacceptable sexist language in the workplace. And throwing your umbrella in the presence of a colleague is a contravention of the 1974 Health and Safety Act. You could easily be prosecuted.”
“Ah, Moneypolly,” whispered 007. “Will you marry me?”
She bristled. “Don’t impose your Daily Mail, reactionary agenda upon me, James. If only this Government recognised that we live in a progressive, left-wing, pro-taxation society, people like you would be doing community service rather than pursuing the insane neo-conservative agenda of the Murdoch press.”
The inner door opened. “Ah, M,” said Bond. “Just in time.”
“UNACCEPTABLE PATRIARCHY!” she cried and marched out muttering about her union rep and the need for better relations with other European social democracies……
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