Friends and readers.
Below is a tall tale or is it, we shall let you our studious readership decide.
There were once a man and a woman who had long wished to lead the Labour party At length the woman hoped that God and the help of a few of her comrades were about to grant her desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress called Theresa who had great power and was dreaded by all the world, well a good part of it anyway.
One day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful poison Ivy and it looked so fresh and green that she longed for it, and had the greatest desire to give her contender for the leadership some of it to eat. This desire increased every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she quite pined away, and began to look pale and miserable.
Jeremy was alarmed, and asked, “What ails you, Angie dear.
“Ah,” she replied, “if I can’t win this leadership battle i’m doomed to be stuck on the back benches forever.
Jeremy who secretly couldn’t stand her thought, sooner the punters re-elect me the better, let it cost what it will even if it is another 25 quid. At twilight, he clambered down over the wall into the garden of Theresa the enchantress, hastily clutched a handful of poison Ivy and took it to Angela. She at once made herself a salad of it, and ate it greedily. It tasted so good to her – so very good, that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have chance of being elected unopposed , Jeremy must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom of evening, therefore, he let himself down again. But when he had clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw Theresa the enchantress standing before him.
“How can you dare,” said she with angry look, “descend into my garden and steal my poison Ivy like a thief? You shall suffer for it and forever be on the opposition benches.
“Ah,” answered he, “let mercy take the place of justice, I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. Angela saw your poison Ivy from the window, and felt such a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to eat.”
Then Theresa the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said to him, “If the case be as you say, I will allow you to take away with you as much poison Ivy as you will, might as well do the bitch in good and proper only I make one condition, you must give me your vote on the renewal of Trident which my Government will bring to the floor of the house. You will be well treated, and I will make sure the right wing press praise you to the hilt.
Jeremy in his terror consented to everything, and when the vote was taken and won Jeremy was loved by the press, loathed by a section of his comrades who hate him anyway, and worshiped by the arms manufacturers who pocket millions in developing and selling weapons of mass destruction.
Some time went by, it came to pass that Angela who by now was stupefied and bewitched by Theresa the Enchantress she dream’t that she was really a Tory plant put there to cause harm to the warm hearted if not a little devious Jeremy. Theresa the Enchantress told her to Bring with you a skein of silk every time that you leave the house so we know which way you are voting and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend from my castle in Downing Street and offer you my full support in your desire to lead the rabble which used to resemble something.
But Angela had other ideas and decided to double cross Theresa the Enchantress. Thersa cried out “What do I hear you say. I thought I had separated you from all that crap on the other side of the House and yet you have deceived me.”
In her anger she clutched Angela’s blond tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair of scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they were cut off, and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took poor Angela into a desert or her party constituency where she had to live in great grief and misery.
On the same day that she cast out Angela however, Theresa the enchantress fastened the braids of hair, which she had cut off, to one of the hands of Big Ben for all to see, or for her new best friend Jeremy to see. Aha cried Jeremy Angela has been vanquished and sent to her constituency no more to see the light and I am now the ruler of all I see, well at least till next week when the next Tory champion challenges for the Labour leadership, but until then, Falsus in unum falsus in omnibus[that's latin folks, we're not stupid you know]