Strictly Political Dancing

No new sketch this week- so irritated by last week's lack of interest from the Beeb- but much pleased at the response from my readership. And as one of my 'fans' says, 'keep your own voice'- so here is something I put together last October- hence not quite so topical! Worth a read nonetheless.

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Music: Strictly Come Dancing Theme

Bruce:            Please welcome our next couple to the dance floor, doing the Viennese Waltz David Cameron and his partner Nick Clegg!

Polite applause

Music: (in waltz time): If you don’t know me by now

Music fades down so we hear their conversation.

Nick:               David, you’re treading on my toes!

David:             No Nick, you’re treading on my toes!

Nick:               David, you’ve been treading on my toes constantly during this competition. I wonder if you actually know in which direction you are going!

David:             I’m going to the right!

Nick:               No! Here we need to go to the centre! (Huffs) There we go!

David:             And we will keep this centre position until … now (Huffs) Back in the correct direction now.

Nick:               We need to go the centre now! (Huffs)  For the vote on the green tax. And now to the right for the tuition fees. (Huffs)  And now a left for the vote on AV! (Huffs)

David:             And back to the right for the EU debate. (Huffs)

Music finishes

Bruce:            If you don’t know David by now Nick you’ll never … wait for it… you’ll never ever know him at all! (Polite groans) Bruno! Over to you first!

Bruno:            Nic-o-las! I am-a so sorry for-a you! If you had been-a in-a Italy you-a would-a have-a been-a completely going-a to-a the right!

Craig:             Daaarrrling! I couldn’t have agreed more! It seems to me Nick that you can’t decide if you need to direct to the left or to the right, and when you do one decides and the other goes elsewhere. Your footwork is all over the place, and David the timing of your decisions relates to events and not to the music!

Darcey:          Yah! Totally! You know! Whatever!

Craig:             A complete dis-ar-star!

Len:                Well it’s all very good looking very pretty isn’t it but I could see no direction, no style, no substance. Lots of fancy twirls and twists, but it’s not strictly dancing you know. No chance of a SEV-ERN between the four of us.

David:             Oh don’t bring that … (fades)

Swedish AAA Meatballs!

Another week, another no show of my scripts on Newsjack. There has been a lot of criticism directed at the programme for not really having unpublished writers; and in fact they admit as much themselves! Not always quality either! Judge for yourselves here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01qyrz9/Newsjack_Series_8_Episode_3/ 

Well the BBC's loss is my readership's gain I suppose!

Personally I think this is one of the tightest pieces I have done. Enjoy

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AAA Rating Sketch

Justin:                          The major economic news this week was of course the downgrading of the UK’s credit rating from the blue chip AAA rating to the lesser AA1 rating, which probably translates to tea and biscuits in Cabinet meetings being bought from the essentials range rather than the luxury selection at Harrod’s. But on a more serious note, how does the UK get back to the top level of credit rating? Especially with a country like Sweden with a sixth of our population and natural resources that seem to be based around pine forests and elk farming holding the top rating. To help me answer these questions I have with me the economist Professor Anna Svensson of the University of Uppsala. Professor Svensson, welcome.

Anna:                           (In well-spoken but ever so slightly exaggerated Swedish accent) Justin (pause) Please call me Anna.

Justin:                          Thank you Anna. Now tell me on such limited natural resources, how does Sweden sustain one of the best standards of living in the Western world, and manage to fund full state pensions for all and allow for a full years maternity and paternity leave for new parents.

Anna:                           Well. (pause) Justin. (pause) You mention my country’s natural resources but omitted our supplies of iron ore, much of which is used to build those big, square cars which seem to be so enamoured of your middle classes. Our pine forests we use to supply much of Europe with self-assembly furniture named after Astrid Lindgren characters. And the elk; (pause) yes it is used in the food chain. Where do you think those Swedish meatballs come from?

Justin:                          Well at least it isn’t horse meat. But those are all based on sales. What about when the markets contract. You do have to import most of your fresh fruit and vegetables because of your poor soils and short growing seasons.

Anna:                           Ah! The English education system’s obsession with the Vikings. They didn’t wear horned helmets as you all think, but did come for food supplies. There may have been some accidental slaughtering and pillaging, but that was all securely invested. Can you imagine the compound interest since the eighth century?

Justin:                          So the strength of the Swedish economy is based upon the wealth stolen from Anglo-Saxon monasteries.

Anna:                           No! (pause) There is much more! (pause) For example, have you seen the cost of a pint of your English beer in a bar in Stockholm?

Justin:                          £12! £12! The most expensive Stag party I have ever attended!

Anna:                           Also the many millions of pounds that you spent on Sven-Goran Erikkson taking your English football team to a succession of quarter finals were invested immediately into our herring industry.

Justin:                          But surely one person’s cultural impact doesn’t secure an entire nation’s economic well-being.

Anna:                           Think again Justin! Have you read the Millennium Trilogy!

Justin:                          I have. Along with twenty million other people.

Anna:                           And no doubt you have heard the rumours of a fourth book on Stieg Larsson’s laptop which his girlfriend has in a safe.

Justin:                          I have. (pause) Where is this leading?

Anna:                           There are in fact another seventeen volumes in safe storage in the vaults of the Royal Bank. To be released at six monthly in times of dire economic need. The Girl Who Licked the Wombat’s Armpit. The Girl Who Played With Her Food. Not the most inspiring of titles and not his best work I am sure but the franchise effect will pay dividends. I myself am composing a book entitled Fifty Shades of Sven, in which a young girl is compelled to construct a Smorgasbord for every home game played by the national football team.

Justin:                          And if Mr Larsson’s work has lost its appeal?

Anna:                           Justin. I can imagine your younger self dancing to the music of our greatest cultural export, Abba!

Justin:                          I may in my youth have gyrated to Dancing Queen.

Anna:                           Like many people you probably believe that Agnetha Fältskog has been in self-imposed seclusion for the last thirty years. Whereas in fact she and the Norwegian one have been recording songs in secret for decades, in case our nation needs to bail out some lesser economies.  (pause) Such as your own.

Justin:                          I feel you have more to reveal to me.

Anna:                           Yes! If the world is on the brink of financial meltdown, we can call upon our brave dwarves and elves who have been mining under the Skanderna Mountains for two millennia, and have a supply of gold, rubies, emeralds and diamonds guarded by a fearsome dragon.

Justin:                          Now you are just being silly!

Anna:                           Justin (pause) that was just our famous Swedish sense of humour. We do have one other secret weapon though; known and loved by millions who has been securing our financial stability for nearly forty years.

Justin:                          And that would be?

Swedish Chef:            Bir-de-bir-de-birr-de-bir-de-birr-bup-bup-bup!

Justin:                          Professor Anna Svensson; thank you!

School Dinners Horse Race Sketch

                                    This was my submission to BBC Radio 4 Extra's Newsjack this week. I was fortunate to have tickets. And they didn't use it!! So for my loyal reader, Arthur in Cheltenham, I hope the scarring heals by the weekend.

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Clare Balding:           (or at least a sound-alike) Welcome to Cheltenham for the 12:50 Race: the School Dinner Stakes. A highly anticipated and controversial race after the hullabaloo of recent weeks. What are the latest odds? Over to Tarquin Pompous-Overdresser!

Tarquin P-O:               Thank you Clare; a woman with a body to die for.

Clare:                          And I’m driving the hearse! Get on with it!

Tarquin P-O:               A lively filly no doubt! We have Lamb Kofta widely fancied at eight to one. A lively little number: closely followed by Sausage Casserole at tens and Turkey Twizzler at twelve to one. A couple of tasty options there but for those with a fancy for the unknown we have Unspecified Moulding at a most generous two hundred and fifty to one. Punters with long memories will recall if they had a shilling or two on Foinavon. Popularly known as Scragg End in his stables! The hardened hacks however are piling their pennies on Shepherd’s Pie, best turned out horse in the paddock today with a £100 bonus for his stable lad, young Oliver James.

Clare:                          Thanks Tarquin! The runners and riders are at the tape. Peter O’Toolivan will run down the start for us.

Peter:                          (well spoken, slightly strained voice) Yes Clare, Shepherd’s Pie looking splendid here at the start. Looking quite imperious. Turkey Twizzler looking a little unsettled there, Lamb Kofta alongside. The starter Major James Tightly-Belted-Raincoat is there on his rostrum, the flag is raised and THEY’RE OFF!! Tucked in early on the rails is Sausage Casserole. Just behind is Turkey Twizzler and one of the outsiders Beef Lasagne. Beef Lasagne still holding his ground there, Lamb Kofta tucked in behind as they approach the first fence. And they are all over. No! No! I was mistaken there. A refusal! A refusal for Greasy Cheeseburger! No surprise there he’s had few takers this season. The field keeping well tucked together here as we cross the Melling Road for the first time as I hand over to Michael O’Herliherliherlihy.

Michael:                      (In excitable and highly stereotypical, slightly high-pitched Irish accent) Beef Lasagne taking over at the front there, Shepherd’s Pie still looking comfortable, keeping out of trouble. Trailing a long way behind is Non-Meat Option, looking very lonely over there on the far side. Coming up fast on the inside there is Chilli Meatballs as we approach Becher’s for the first time. Chilli Meatballs up, over, and stumbles on the other side and Chilli Meatballs all over the place. Cottage Pie brought down with her there. Stable mate of Shepherd’s Pie. Very difficult to tell them apart unless you’re a regular punter. A couple more fallers there too. Lamb Kofta looking very heavy a few lengths behind the field, dragging and sticking in the heavy ground. It’s over the Melling Road again and back over to Peter O’Toolivan.

Peter:                          Non-Meat Option has been withdrawn and we have four horses still in with a shout of becoming steaks. Sorry, I meant wining the Stakes. Shepherd’s Pie still looking very comfortable on the shoulder of Sausage Casserole. Turkey Twizzler and Beef Lasagne in the centre of the course there running stride for stride as we approach The Chair. Two loose horses running ahead of the field. Looks like Glue Pot and Dog’s Breakfast who unseated their riders at Becher’s. Disaster for Shepherd’s Pie. Dog’s Breakfast has pulled up in front and Shepherd’s Pie is gone. Sausage Casserole goes with him, its chaos at the Chair! Beef Lasagne and Turkey Twizzler are gone too and through the mayhem comes Unspecified Moulding. There are no other horses running. Unspecified Moulding is the only choice left, the two hundred and fifty to one outside. All he needs to do is to keep upright over the last and the run in. His trainer had no real hope thinking he was a little undercooked for this race, but what a story, an incredible fairytale. It’s Foinavon all over again. The crowd are on their feet. It’s unspecified Moulding who is going to win the School Dinner Stakes. Just the last to go. He’s gone! He’s gone! Unspecified Moulding is a faller at the last! He’s gone down! (SFX Profuse and Violent Vomiting) No! He’s back up again! Unspecified Moulding is up and all over the place but still going, staggering now but he’s over the line. The Winner of the School Dinner Stakes! What a story!

                                    

Christmas Shopping Crisis

Jocasta has sent Horatio to get the Christmas food shopping from the classy supermarket one would expect. However not all goes to plan!

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'Jocasta! Darling it's me! I can't get through the tunnel to the supermarket. There's been an accident. I could go the long way!'

'Horatio, don't do that it will take an age. Jonquil and Dido will be here in two hours, and they've got Uncle Rupert with them. He's 96 and not written his will yet. Worth a squillion, so we have to impress him! Where are you?'

'On the road through that dreadful industrial estate!'

'You are going to have to go into that big supermarket on the left.'

'You mean the one the poor people go to! And the working classes!'

'It does well enough for that couple three doors down. They seem to find everything they need.'

'Those bloody teachers! Always got to be down with the people!'

'Well it's that or nothing Horatio, and if Christmas doesn't happen I will be making sure there is one little chipolata on a plate!'

'OK darling, what ever you say, but keep in the phone. You are going to have to guide me through this one.'

'Go to the parent and child spaces. You have got Spartacus with you haven't you?'

'Oh yes he is in the back! Hang on though. There are some real ruffians there with buckets and sponges. What are they up to?'

'They want to clean your windscreen for a ridiculous amount of money with dirty water that has been hanging around all day. Just walk past them!'

'Doing that darling. Oh they have the most ghastly Liverpudlian accents! I don't suppose they've seen a 4x4 where they come from unless it says 'Police' on the roof!'

'Keep your voice down Horatio! Unless you want your wheels stolen or something dreadful left on the back seat.'

'I'm going in now. It looks like the fruit and vegetables are straight ahead. They have no kumquats! Can you believe no kumquats!'

'Well look for mandarins, or clementines! Something vaguely orange coloured!' 

'Like this woman in the shell suit in front of me! I think I can see most of the vegetables. What is that Spartacus? You need a pooh? Not now please! Oh too late, but at least it might mask the smell of the great unwashed!' 

'Head for the butchery aisle next. We need veal cutlets! And lamb shanks.'

'Excuse me my good man! Can you tell me where I might find the veal? It is meat. No it's young cow! Never mind! Lamb shanks? No. I am unfamiliar with 90s gangsta rappers myself. More of a Mozart man if you see how I'm hanging!' 

'Try the frozen section if you get desperate!' 

'I'm heading to the drinks now. Oh Spartacus don't squirm! You are quite pungent aren't you. Have you been at mummy's lentil rissoles again? Is it unoaked Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc that Dido prefers?'

'Either! And some Chablis for Jonquil.'

'What's this? Blue Nun, Black Tower? We used to squirrel that away in the tuck box and hide it from matron. Do they still make that? Do you have Chablis? No I wouldn't like an orange WKD you pleb!'

'Plebian Horatio! Plebian! It sounds like a compliment!'

'Sorry! I wouldn't like an orange WKD you plebian! Yes it might be a Doctor Who monster!'

'For heaven's sake Horatio! At least get some bread!'

'Is this square shaped stuff bread! I've never seen this before! Hot dog buns! Finger rolls! Darling I am at a loss here! Oh thank heavens there is that awful teacher couple! I will just have to act nice for a change! Speak to you from the car park!' 

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'Hello Darling! Me again. John and Lesley were most helpful!'

'Who?'

'John and Lesley! The teachers from three doors down!'

'James and Liz! I know we don't mix in their circle but at least try to get their names right!' 

'That's why they gave me funny looks. Thought it was Spartacus's deposits! They kept giggling as we were going around. He told me he knew that proletarians were those choux pastry balls with cream and chocolate. We don't give them enough credit! They really do have some class, despite what they do for a living! I had to substitute a few things off the list!'

'Do tell Horatio! This had better be good!'

'There was no Bleu d'Auvergne, not even Camembert, but I've got these delightful soft cheeses in little triangles and something interesting in a tube!'

'Grissini?'

'No! But apparently pickled onion Monster Munch is just as good!'

'Coffee? I must have my macchiato?'

'Own brand instant is all the rage it seems!'

'Pecan and Maple liqueur? Surely a Bailey's? At least I can disguise that with some cocoa and a dash of the Irish!'

'Apparently they do some great ones inside miniature chocolates!'

'Langoustines?'

'Breaded scampi!'

'Pistachios?'

'Dry roasted peanuts!'

'Scallops nestled in Prosecco-infused couscous?' 

'Fingres de poisson en pain blanc avec coulis des tomates is something we must try!'

'Fishfinger sandwich in white bread with tomato ketchup is a dirty meal for dirty people! Now Horatio! I am going to read you five items from the list! You are going to tell me what you have instead! I may not be happy!'

'Go ahead!'

'Prosciutto, bruschetta, tapenade, prosecco, smoked eel!'

'Ah!'

'I don't like the sound of that!'

'Ham in a tin! With a magic key! Mighty White! Cheese and Ham Toast Toppers! Babycham! Tin of pilchards! Happy!' 

'Horatio! Put it this way! Guest room for you until new year!'

When the Round Round Robin Comes Bob-Bob-Bobbing Along!

You know those awful self-indulgent and ego driven round robin letters that you get around this time of year? Don't you just hate them?

If these people wanted their everyday tedium to be read they could take to Twitter.

@anyonewhoisbotheredto read Taking the dog to be waxed today. Using the fur in a pin cushion. LOL!

Here is my take on the phenomenon!

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Dear All!

Has it really been an entire circuit of the Sun since we last heard from each other! 'Tempus fugit' as the Ancient Romans would have said!

What a year it has been! Our eldest, Persephone, has sat her GCSEs and has come out with 15 A* grades! Lithuanian, Macrame, Astrology and Herbalism will stand her in excellent stead for the future. All of Horatio's mother's doubts about taking the wrong baby home from the hospital are truly dispelled now. I think we can plan our retirement based on those grades, though she needs to get through college first.

She brought her first proper boyfriend home too. 'This is Wombat!' she announced proudly. It is difficult to inform you of his hopes, as most communication appears to be grunted or garbled through slurps of Super Lager. Wombat does seem a little pretentious as a name, don't you think?

The twins, Araminta and Taramasalata, continue to thrive. 'Lively and unpredictable' it said in their school reports. Really those could have been their middle names (actually they're Tamarind and Tarquin) Being called into the Head's office to discuss them was the highlight of the academic year. Creative use of felt pens and paints on the plaster in the conveniences suggest we may have the successors to Banksie on our hands! So proud!

Spartacus is finally potty trained and almost off the breast, just in time for the Reception Class Nativity performance.  A triumphant performance ensued, and he was certainly the best dressed shepherd, in Jocasta's kimono pyjamas and a Pashmina headdress. His control over the giraffe was awesome!

Imagine Horatio's surprise when Jocasta expressed a desire for a Brazilian downstairs! Imagine Jocasta's reaction at Horatio's misunderstanding! For the last two months the Dos Santos twins have been living in the old granny-flat. Esmerelda doubles as a Nanny to Spartacus and works literally for peanuts. Stefano is on the Chelsea F.C.  Youth Team, and all his expenses are fully paid by the club. In fact burly and rough-hewn Russian gentlemen deliver manila envelopes of cash at strange hours of the night!

The twins had their wish for for a pair of Puggles granted in the Spring. Regular walks on the Heath are interrupted only by cries of 'Vajazzle! Prince Albert!'. Old Mr Pietowski had a shock though when he asked Jocasta to see her lovely Vajazzle. Still his injuries soon healed and the court action will expire with his repatriation!

We had an enjoyable four weeks in the Tuscan Villa over the Summer. The roof finally went on at the end of August, and the running water will be connected next year. Seven years hard work are well worth it, and the children now have a truly rustic experience to add to their life stories. The external latrine provided genuine close family time and the Roman experience of a sponge soaked in vinegar will 'stick' in the memory, as well as 'stick' (literally) in one or two other places! Oh how we laughed!

Work still goes well. Jocasta's business has expanded in to the full range of lentil based products, and Horatio has survived all the financial crises that have come the bank's way. Being  in charge means he can literally 'Pass the Buck!'.

Well that's us for the year! Don't forget you can get in touch with us at horatiojcasta4ever@getsrightupyournose.com at any time.

Toodlepip! Ciao!

Jocasta, Horatio, Persephone (& Wombat), Araminta, Taramasalata & Spartacus

Twelve For '12, Thirteen for '13

A full year on Twitter; a good few months of blogging. This has been an eventful year for me in the cyber community and in real life. A few of my reflections and things I have learned and observed.

Twelve for '12

1. There are some quite wonderful, supportive, warm, thoughtful, sensitive, emotional, passionate talented and intelligent people from Leeds.

2. There are some equally wonderful and intelligent people in Manchester, Birmingham, Blackpool, Bolton, Portsmouth, Southend, Surrey,  North and South London, in various parts of the East and West Midlands, the North-East and in Scotland who listen to what others have to say and respond sensitively. Apologies if I have missed your geographical area!

3. This year it is great to wave our own flag! We can reclaim it from the Far Right. Whatever you think of the Royals, Queenie has been on top form! British sporting success too; Wiggo, Murray, Mo, Jess, the cricketers in India, and even our football team not being criticised for going out in the quarter finals of the Euros! Plus, we put on a great Olympics and Paralympics. Despite being awoken by shooting at the Royal Barracks and having to apply for permission to park outside my own house, what a great summer it was. Not only for TeamGB and ParalympicGB success, but for the way we welcomed the world. Sad to see stands and stadia gone, but we knew that in the first place. 

4. There has been a measure of justice at last for Stephen Lawrence and the Hillsborough families.

5. Tweachers! You are supportive and receptive of other people's difficulties.

6. I can write!

7. My writing can make people laugh, cry, get angry, and generate response.

8. My writing can get up some noses!

9. My writing has brought me an audience I never expected. My work on 50 Shades and DVA has brought me followers in the feminist community. Your support has been hugely valuable and is much appreciated. 

10. Our performance of Les Miserables was fantastic. The girl who sang 'I Dreamed a Dream' moved the whole audience to tears. 

11. Kids love gardening. Five 50p packets of salad leaves had children staring at a raised bed for a term, desperate to try rocket and other offerings.

12. I love my wife as much if not more than I did when we first met!

Thirteen for '13

1. I would like to meet some of, if not all of, my wonderful Twitter friends. Not virtual but real friends I hope.

2. Michael Gove will see sense, reverse his policy and join a Buddhist retreat. 

3. I will find more good value wine. Two euros for a bottle of Chianti in Italy. which wasn't rough or gave a hangover, was quite amazing. 

4. I want to read at least 20 books. Got close in 2012, but the Autumn was a tricky period. 

5. My writing will be discovered, beyond my amazing Twitter and blog audience, and hopefully by the BBC, to help them over the Savile scandal.

6. The mighty 'People's Club' will win some much deserved silverware after a long enough wait. 

7. Anyone who has lied about or stitched up anybody else will pay the price for their actions. 

8. I will cook a new recipe at least twice a month and share it with my Twitter friends. 

9. Greater financial sense! Daughters to learn that first!

10. My tomatoes and courgettes will not suffer the ravages of last summer. In past years they kept me going from June to November. 

11. Common sense will prevail in education. Heads and LEAs will stand up to the policies of the current Government and Stephen Twigg will wake up to what is happening and not Tweet about tea parties and the weather in his constituency.

12. There will be positive action in Parliament to DVA. And the sales of 50 Shades and copycat books will plummet. 

13. We will all be in a happier place by this time next year!

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time?

Christmas in school starts at some point in October if you are lucky, September if less so. The Nativity or other productions can take weeks of preparation, with lovingly made costumes and seemingly tenuous links to the reality of the Christmas tale. I heard this week of a child dressed as a giraffe in one stable scene. 

Our most memorable play was remembered for all the wrong reasons though. For reasons unknown half of the children had to stand in the space where the dining tables were normally kept, a space about 40 feet long and 9 feet high. In a 90 minute performance that space became a sauna; supervising staff wore vest tops and even shorts in there. In the year in question, the first performance passed without a hitch, but night two was a different proposition altogether.

The night began with instrumental recitals. One nine year old violinist finished her piece, put down her violin, turned white and vomited profusely and violently all over the stage, some ending up in the Head's trouser turn ups!

The rest of the children had a further twenty minute wait while everything was cleaned up, and unbelievably the girl wanted to continue with the play. Whatever she had contracted though was virulent, as the events of the next hour would attest to.

From my position I was aware of a hubbub at the side. Next a child was led out and a pot of 'magic body spillage crystals' was sent for. A second, then a third child soon followed. 

Meanwhile the performance on stage continued, interrupted by retches, splats and splashes! Several of us went over to help out and the virus I swear was literally leaping from child to child. Children were being carried out, mops and buckets sent for and the unmistakable aroma of Dettol began to waft around the hall, barely masking the scent of, shall we say, a ripe Brie mixed with a strong Parmesan. 

The time came for the class at the side to play their scene. One child came on, did his line, exited, threw up, and was replaced by another. Two of us were literally force feeding lines to children, checking their temperatures, then throwing them onto the stage. The eight children who should have played the whole scene never delivered all their lines. The class dance was not supposed to have children running down the steps or leaning off the stage into a bucket, but somehow they got to the end. 

The audience barely reacted though, only realising at the end when all the children were on stage for their photographs, that there was a huge gap where their offspring should have been.  The Head mentioned 'the unfortunate interruption' in his closing speech. One of the classes had a trip next day. Only six children turned up from that class, and barely a dozen from the other class. 

What a performance!