Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Cry massacre - and let trip the meerkat

Ann Treneman: Political Sketch & , : {}

The Tories unleashed their tip arms opposite Charlie Whelan yesterday. The usually problem? It was Michael Gove, who is some-more meerkat than rottweiler. Still, he did his majority appropriate to spin himself in to an conflict meerkat, not wholly successfully. Forget the forces of Hell, this was some-more similar to the forces of pastel.

The Tories had requisitioned a really special location. Comrades! cried the celebration chairman, Eric Pickles. Welcome to Transport House! Everyone giggled. We were on the eighth floor, not just the clouds but closer than majority to BA cabin crew.

Mr Gove arose and stared at us intently, physique ideally still, head and eyes swivelling at the same time, as usually meerkats can. He spoke quickly, intensely, each word as graphic as an island, rolling his Rs as if he were in a Kenneth Williams theatrical representation contest.

The suggestion of the Seventies revolutionary nostalgia has rrrrre-captured the Labour Party, he trilled. The Prime Minister was infamous and aggressive. Toff-bashing and the governing body of enviousness were everywhere. Vintage Labour is back, he barked. Deep red is the new black.

More swivelling. He began to prepare his blinking and staring with his swivels. The usually man in the universe who was worse than Gordon Brown was his companion Charlie Whelan who was obscenity-laden and bullying. Hed been in inner outcast but had right away returned to Westminster to widespread his poison, a stand in representative for the Unite kinship and Bully Brown.

Mr Gove executed a domestic stratagem well known as a retreat insult. I would never go so far as job Charlie Whelan an assertive hooligan, a sequence torpedo or murdering machine, he announced, but afterwards polite servants and comparison Labour total have already pronounced that.

Wait a minute. Serial killer? For a impulse I thought he contingency meant cereal killer. Was he serious? But seeking at Mr Gove, his eyes roughly on stalks as they wearied in to us, I saw that he was. New Labour was ushering in a second Mesozoic epoch with dinosaurs trooping by Downing Street. He raved opposite the Whelanist Tendency, that was in the ascendant. (This is what happens when you let an egghead go on the attack.)

This was not spell economics so most as spell demonics. Mr Gove was right away quoting a former press officer, Colin Byrne, identified as a close crony of Peter Mandelson, who had said: What is a strike-mongering politically discredited nutter similar to Charlie you do at the heart of Labours choosing campaign?

Well, for a start, Id contend he was circuitous up Michael Gove. I could listen to Charlie chuckling all the approach to the white picket line.

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