We do have policy!
“What time did your text arrive Sean?”
“I didn’t get one.”
He looked rather upset. I almost felt sorry for him. Before I had time to offer him some of my golubtsy, he continued.
“What’s this nonsense about sending text messages anyway.” He drawled, slouching authoritatively in his armchair. “It’s all very unfair and undemocratic.”
This brought to mind the 2007 leadership “election” when a rightly outraged McDonnell — who had failed to make the ballot — decried that Blairite Gordon Brown for “calling people personally to support him”.
My thoughts of darker times when New Labour were in government, were interrupted by Sean suddenly throwing down his Guardian in disgust. “Bloody experts. What do they know!”
Sean was not in the best of moods after two of our most esteemed white men had come out in support of the opposition (three if you count Comrade Jones — but we’ve given him one last chance). Two economists with flowery sounding Oxbridge names and former members of John the Baptist’s Wealth Distribution Committee, had been outed as Theon Turncloaks and switched their allegiances to he who shall not be named — namely, the candidate from The Progress Party.
Speaking of Forward not Back, how dare Owen Jones tell us our messages and slogans are not clear? Look at some of the rubbish New Labour came up with :—
Never been had so good, 1957
The Labour way is the better way, 1979
New Labour New Danger (I’ll have to check twitter but I believe this was Momentum, circa 2015).
JC wasn’t able to join us this morning — something about freeing some abused cockroaches. Shadow Chancellor Palpatine, who lately hadn’t missed a meeting, wasn’t going to be able to make it either — he was preparing his set for the comedy store tonight.
John had been getting some rather good gigs since he took over as Shadow Chancellor — we’re planning to go see him on a Momentum night-out. I’ve heard his quips about “knee-capping f***ing useless MPs” have been going down a storm.
JC not being around meant the task of saying the morning prayer-chant fell to yours truly. After reciting Our Chavez who art in heaven, we broke wheat-free bread and each sipped from one of JC’s jam jars, some freshly squeezed apple juice from the leader’s orchard. There was an odd biro taste to mine.
(I had suggested bagels to Sean on the phone this morning as I did the morning shop at Whole Foods — but after careful consideration we agreed that it would be best not to risk upsetting Ken.)
We began as was becoming the norm — trawling through our google search of the terms “traitor, scum, scab”. Annoying that I had used these terms so often myself — if I had known the Party apparatchiks would have changed the rules, I wouldn’t have used them so freely.
We then moved to the usual discussion about JC’s diary. Addressing rallies, miners clubs, picketing Topshop and Sports Direct — the usual. The only question that arose was an apparent window for a possible statement about Cameron’s looming Honours Scandal which was rather inconvenient considering the nominations on Sean’ list. I smelt interference from Comrade Jones again.
“Not to worry” Sean reassured, “I’ll put an end to any of that. Like we keep saying, it’s not our job to point out that the Government is in a mess.”
After prolonged applause for Sean’s words, we moved to the upcoming elections to the Politburo. Voting closes on Friday and the Rebel Alliance are hot on our heels, though I have to say that with Ann Black and her “opinions”, I’m losing track of who the rebels actually are. The whole office were going to be seconded for the week to the campaign — I was going to be in charge of text messaging and memes. I could hardly wait.
After lunch, we moved to a discussion of the leadership “election”. I had conducted polling across a variety of the largest facebook groups I was a member of, including — Red or Dead; Core Group Morning Star/Jellyfish; and crucially — First Against the Wall: Tom Watson.
In short, things were looking great.
“Bloody cut off date.” Sean drawled as he squinted at the screen, at my Excel 2.0. JC never lets us print anything — I’m all for principles but they aren’t always great on the eyes.
Sean’s comment took me by surprise. “But I thought we were happy with January?”
“Happy? It was a compromise, politics is all about compromise comrade. Sean replied, gracefully slurping his Starbucks with Soomoose scrawled across it. “John and I argued for a cut-off window between 1988 and 2015.”
We all had to get to Topshop, so wrapped things up with a quick discussion on a new policy to scrap student loans and re-introduce grants for all. We almost had to take a vote on it (I was excited as I have never voted before), before we heard a story that brought a tear to my eye. Sean informed us that if he had studied under the Blairite revisionist “some are more equal than others” student grants system — he would have had to pay to go to Balliol. And after having had to pay so much for his secondary education too!
Heading off to Oxford Street, I felt as empowered as Stalin must have felt when he gave Trotsky the wrong date for Lenin’s funeral. We were well on our way to undoing the damage Blair has done to Britain.