Diary of a Nobody

June 21^st 2014: Today was a busy day for the firm and we needed all hands on deck. Or on the train, in this case. I made a comment to one of the interns about the tardiness of his twitters. He said “All right old man, keep your hair on!” I had to remind him that as party leader I was due more-respect than that. Later in the day, as I was passing the interns’ carriage a scrunched up page of A4 hit me on the back of the head. I turned round but they all had their noses to their smart-phones. I think I know which one it was though. I will bide my time; this is a strategy that has served me well with my policies.

It was an exhausting day, not helped by being given a bacon sandwich first thing. I was in a quandary and really wanted to refuse it. I mean, I want to be the first second Jewish Prime Minister, so how would that look? But I was with the working classes and I know that a bacon sandwich represents about 50% of their daily disposable income so I had to grin and bite it. I hoped it might taste like a croissant, but it was horrible and the grease ran down my chin. Luckily my PR team prevented any of this getting out via the media, otherwise I would have looked like I was out of touch.

Now, I don’t usually like to make jokes but in a witty aside I rhymed Farage with garage and I think everybody was suitably impressed. When I tried it out on Justine last night the two of us laughed like drains for a full ten minutes. Then she said it was even funnier because, unless you live in the north, Farage does rhyme with garage. I believe they call this irony, which makes it doubly funny. We laughed so much we had to hug each other to control our mirth. Who says I’m not a man of the people?

I was reminded though, of how not everybody shares my intellectual self-confidence and subtle sense of humour when the joke I played on BBC Radio Wiltshire didn’t go so well. I wittily pretended not to know who Jim Grant was but, provincial outfit that they are, they took me seriously. Well of course I know who John Grant is, he’s the leader of Labour-run Swindon Borough Council; a fine man is our Joe. I wish we had many more mayors like Jason Brant to run our squeezed middle, one-nation cities.

Note to self: I must find out who this ‘Beaker’ is. I keep hearing it in whispers and I think it might be a nickname for David Axelrod, but until I’m sure I don’t want to use it and look foolish. I get the impression the poor fellow is the butt of much joshing among the ranks but for what we’re paying him to make me look good, I should think he can put up with our jolly British ways.

When I got home Justine cooked me a lovely meal – Ocado delivered this afternoon and she had prepared some good peasant food: eight-year old Italian Bitto cheese and sun-dried tomatoes on focaccia, drizzled with some good Tuscan olive oil and accompanied by some lovely artisan sausage flown in from Portugal that morning. All washed down with a rather nice Pouilly-Fuissé from our private cellar. Quite how she manages on £70 a week is beyond me.

22^nd May 2014: It’s Polling Day today and I planned to have a good early night last night, but Ed Balls and Chuka Umunna turned up so we played a few hands of whist to aid our spirits. In a happy coincidence they had brought spirits with them. Chuka produced a bottle of whisky and I joked that I heard he preferred Um-Bongo - everybody went strangely quite at that and Justine had to dig me in the ribs. Well Chuka is such a charmer, I’d completely forgotten he’s black. Not that black men can’t be charming, I mean, they are super-good dancers, aren’t they and um... I put on some rap music to ease the mood but I’m not entirely sure if that did the trick.

So, I tried out the new little joke I had been working on for today. I said we all needed to focus on winning but if we didn’t win there would be a good reason. I adopted my ‘Look natural, Ed.’ pose and said “We can always blame it on Beaker.” Well, that was it, what a winner! Ed and Chuka couldn’t help themselves, guffawing and slapping their sides as Justine clung helplessly to the doorframe. The laughter went on and on; I was almost embarrassed for poor David, although I still didn’t really get it.

Look natural, Ed

We really shouldn’t have carried on drinking as I have, unusually, a bit of a thick head today and my throat is a little tense. Practising my speech for tonight I detected a slight hint of a nasal whine but I’m sure that will pass. But this is what I say, I say ‘up and at them’ and I believe that; it’s the right thing to believe. I sense a great victory is afoot.