For those of you who don’t know me (especially those north of The Boldon Lad), my name is Professor Steve Harrison-Ford. I am a member of the Really Fully Truly Totally Definitely Non Aligned Independent Party, representing the ward of Fellworth and Hedgate.
I have recently received an honorary degree from The University of Splitters, and I have found myself working flat out on the lecture circuit. Talking of lecherers, I have taken time out from my busy schedule to write a short dissertation for my good friend David Posh. When it comes to dissertations, this is a first for me, but more about that next week.
My friendship with Posh goes back years, but we share a terrible secret.
We first met in a pub. In fact, we always met in a pub. David was always more relaxed when surrounded by the gentle clatter of glasses, the sound of a juke box, the rattle of dominoes, the splatter of sick in the toilets and of course the clink of a treble gin and vimto.
Our get togethers were very clandestine, and we had to meet in disguise. I was always dressed as a taxi driver, Posh always impersonated a councillor. It was like something out of “Allo Allo”; I was the resistance member, he couldn’t resist a drink.
We always had to meet in busy places where we weren’t known and wouldn’t be recognised; Posh would always suggest the Council chamber or a CAF meeting, but I preferred the busy pubs of South Shields.
As I write this little muttering I can feel the shame flooding back. The horror of my actions still sometimes over whelms me and I remember the constant feelings of fear that my family, friends and political colleagues would discover my terrible, dirty and unsavoury secret.
You see, David and I share a stigma which has been a burden and a stain on my soul since I became involved in the whole immoral mess. For some time he and I were……..god, it hurts just typing it…..we…………………… we were……….gulp…….involved in discussions as to which wards Posh would not put up a candidate for the 2009 council elections.
God, it was disgusting. When it came to his turn in 2010, Posh was prepared to leave certain wards unchallenged in 2009 in return for a free run in his own back yard.
David was very clever with his duplicity; his cohorts at Tory HQ had no idea what he was up to and his partner, Stinker Milburn, knew nothing of our dirty little meetings. Cheating on him was like a game, and he made me part of it. He swore me to secrecy, threatening to “out me” if I said anything to that vixen Allen. One day I just cracked and it all spilled out. I had felt so dirty and degraded that I couldn’t speak to anybody about it, apart from anybody who would listen.
For years I have carried this burden and I am glad to be given the opportunity to put my side of the story. I now know that I was used by The Posh – I was but a prawn in his very fishy game. Never mind not standing candidates, at the end of discussions the only thing not standing was him, he was so full gin and vimto.
I never really recovered from my actions, relationships broke down and I deserted those closest to me. When they found out what I had been up to behind their backs, I knew it was time to move on and form other alliances.
I am now in a new relationship, but I don’t think it will last. I have too many memories, and not enough votes. I have accepted that I am now on my own, with no friends and nobody to deliver leaflets for me. I am a man without a party, and pretty soon, a man without a ward.
If there is a moral to this sordid little affair, it is this: never trust a man who drinks gin and vimto, he always lets you down in the end, or should I say, he always falls down in the end.
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