Friday, 1 July 2016

Skeletons in the cupboard

Well, Who’d’a thunk it? They say a week is a long time in politics and boy, what a week it’s been. Game of Thrones has nothing on the real thing. Okay it’s got blood and battle... and dragons... and a lot of nudity. But, apart from that... Anyway, Boris is out and some commentators are saying his political career is over. Gove, who has repeatedly denied Prime Ministerial ambition may be going the same way very soon – who would trust him after his little coup? So it’s lukewarm May versus hot new ticket Leadsom versus mister religious baggage, Stephen Crabb, who the papers are already trying to bury. Oh and the disgraced Liam Fox; not fancying his chances.

You could be forgiven for thinking this is the only game in town but there is also the not-so-small matter of Labour’s own meltdown and then finally the teensy-tiny little issue of re-shaping the country post-Brexit. We don’t even know yet when Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty will be invoked or whether we’ll simply run out of time and be unceremoniously kicked out of the club regardless. Interesting times, as the Chinese curse goes, we’re certainly living in them. Speaking of which, life must go on, for politicians as much as for we ordinary folk. And most lives hold a little intrigue; those cupboard skeletons need attending to.

Which brings me to a little story of a certain business transaction I heard about recently. A rather dignified, well-dressed man in his late forties arrived at a London brothel and spoke to the madam. “I want to see Suzy." He requested. The madam looked him up and down and explained that Suzy’s rates were rather high, the highest in the house in fact, at £5,000 per night. The man insisted and produced the fee immediately and in cash. Suzy was duly summoned and they went upstairs. After just an hour, however, the man calmly left, saying nothing to the madam, merely nodding a polite goodbye as he departed.
The next afternoon he reappeared and once again asked to visit Suzy. Suzy was surprised and explained that no one had ever come back two nights in a row as she was so expensive. "There are no discounts,” she said, “the price is still £5000." Once again the man just smiled, produced the money and again they went upstairs. Just as before he left after an hour, unruffled and quietly dignified. Suzy and the madam thought no more of it...

Until he came again for a third afternoon and then a fourth. On each occasion he produced the £5000 fee in cash but left after only an hour, having engaged in what, presumably, was the central purpose of his visit. No conversation, no sleeping over, just straight down to business. But curiosity being an insistent urge, Suzy and the madam confronted him before he left on the fourth evening. “Nobody has ever been with me four times in a row.” She said, and then asked, “Where are you from?” He replied, in a soft, Scottish burr, that he had travelled down from Inveraray.

Not bad... just drawn that way

Suzy was taken aback. “What a coincidence!” she exclaimed, “I have family in Inveraray.” The stranger said “Yes, I know." the man said.  "Your Great Aunt died, and I am her solicitor.” Suzy was surprised and a little confused, she had hardly known her great aunt. “But why have you come here? Couldn’t you have just written a letter?” The lawyer explained that in fact her relative had not been without means and had left Suzy a sum in her will. “How much?” asked Suzy. “£20,000” the lawyer replied...

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