Playtime for Clegg and Cameron 14 February, 2011 at 12:42 pm
In this exercise, various phrases with which to play and create were given, including: “Riots in Rome”, “The point of need”, “Awful spelling”, “Spread darkness, depression and futility”, “Thinking bad”, “Why doesn’t the pen obey my commands?”, “British expansion”, “map of the world”.
“So lets see, what do we have next on the to do list?”
“Riots in Rome.”
“Riots in Rome What?” said Clegg with a barb.
“Riots in Rome Sir.” Cameron shrunk behind the desk as he said it.
“That’s better. Now. How can we create riots in Rome” he left a brief pause, enough for Cameron to try and jump in.
“I think it’s actually how do we prevent…” he tailed off after becoming the recipient of a sharp stare that hit him with a twang.
“As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted. To create riots in Rome, we need to do something to incite their rage. We need to get the common people angry.” another pause for thought.
“Football?”
“What did I tell you about interrupting?”
“Sorry Sir” came the meek reply
“Good. Well, as I was saying, we need something like football to incite their ire. Take this down. ‘Note to self. Arrange challenge game against Italian football team’. After their World Cup, even trying to get a team together should prove interesting.”
Cameron scribbled the note at the bottom of a piece of paper and then looked up with his mouth open to speak.
“Do you have anything to add young Cameron?”
“I think…” he started
“Well you shouldn’t” cut in Clegg. “Thinking bad. Remember that, and you’ll get a lot further. You obviously won’t get far being you, but you’ll get further then if you took it upon yourself to start thinking every time you opened your mouth. Right.” he continued, “What’s next on the list?”
He lent over and snatched the list Cameron was reaching for, read the next item and then threw it back on the desk
“Get Swedish Chain….whatever that means”
“I think it says ‘chair’” suggested Cameron.
“Silence when you speak to me!” Clegg shouted banging his fist on the desk, his face going red.
Cameron appeared to be trying to hide behind his pencil, and was very almost succeeding.
Clegg paced to the world map that was pinned to a board at the side of the room. He appear to greet it with wide arms, announcing it’s presence with pride.
“A British expansion map of the world! Right, well, if we first take Denmark, then we should be able to take Sweden with ease, and then we can figure out what we should be doing with their chain. We can mobilise the navy to launch the planes to drop our army right in the middle of Denmark. They’ll never see that coming.”
“Because we’re at peace with them”
“Exactly!” beamed Clegg triumphantly. “It’s the best time to attack someone. They never expect it!”
Cameron tried to get away from the topic of invading places. “Next we have a hospital opening tomorrow with speech”
“Okay, scrap the existing speech, we’ll use this as an opportunity to announce our new plans. Pen!”
An envelope was opened, the contents screwed up. Cameron passed over a pen but after half a line of writing it was thrown back at him.
“Why doesn’t my pen obey my commands! You take it, write this down!”
Cameron started diligently scribbled away in neat joined up writing as Clegg spoke.
“After years of shrinking, we have grown tired with this meagre place in the world and will be working on an expanding British empire! We have a need that needs to be addressed, and drive is the point of need! We shall start this expansion by heading to Sweden and prevent them spreading darkness, depression and futility….”
Clegg continued his speech for half an hour before he paused for breath. It was a refreshing having half a second that wasn’t filled with babble of world domination.
There was a creak from outside the room and a padding of footsteps. Clegg and Cameron jumped to attention in front of the desk as Nick Clegg walked through the door. They were close together to block view of the big red box on the desk, and were only looking moderately suspicious.
“Hello Mr Clegg” Cameron received a harsh but discreet jab to the ribs before adding “Mr Clegg Sir.”
“Hello Daddy” said Clegg.
“What are you two boys up to?
“Nothing Mr Clegg Sir.”
“We’re just helping out Daddy.”
Looks may not be able to kill, but they can save. If Nick had seen his speech screwed up on the kids desk, then his career would surely have been saved.
“Hmm…Well, dinner is about to be dished. Hurry up and wash your hands and come to the table.”
“So if it’s about to be dished, it’s not actually dished, so we still have five more minutes to play?”
“Do you like being six?”
“Yes Daddy”
“Do you want to be seven?”
“At some point. I’d prefer another sixth birthday though!”
“Well with lip like that and you’ll be lucky if you get any more birthdays. If you’re not sitting at the table when the first scrap of food is served, there will be hell to pay”
With that he disappeared back down the stairs and the boys breathed a sigh of relief.
Cameron quickly shoved his writings into the envelope they emptied earlier and it was jammed back into the red box with the other things they had been helping out with.
“Quick, put that back where we found it”
Cameron quickly complied and the boys hurried to the dinner table.
BBC News was covering the opening of McWatts Hospital. A dark haired woman in her early forties was doing a piece to camera on the news set.
“…and now we’re going live to Mike Dartford who is outside McWatts where Nick Clegg is set to make his speech, and word is, it will be very interesting. Hello Mike”
“Hello, we’re expecting Nick Clegg to arrive on the podium any minute, and here he is now. This should be quite a treat”
The crowd applauded politely as Nick Clegg took to the stage. He stood at the podium, cleared his throat, unfolded his speech and started reading.
“CleggieWeggy smells of EggyWeggy, he’s thickie-wikkie…”
His voice drifted to silence as his mouth hung open. He starred at the piece of paper in disbelief, hoping the stubborn words would somehow shift into something resembling sense. He staggered off the podium still starring at the sheet, muttering under his breath and starting to doubt his sanity.
The camera panned back out to Mike Dartford.
“Well, that speech was circulated among the press shortly before he appeared on stage, and I can complete what was missed.
‘Cleggie-weggie smells of Eggie-Weggie, he’s thickie-wikkie like Ant and Deccie-wekkie, as silly as a sausage, and ugly as an ogre, he throws like a girl, and kicks like a girl, he fancies Billy, he’s such a sissy, silly-willy Cleggie-weggie’
“There is also a note at the bottom of the page, which reads ‘Note to self, challenge Italy to football match’. It all seems quite bizarre, and littered with awful spelling. I think it’s unfortunate that this new hospital doesn’t have a psychiatric department, or they’d have their first patient already. That’s all from outside McWatts Hospital. Back to studio”
“Thank you Mike. That’s certainly not what we were all expecting, perhaps the pressure of office has made our deputy prime minister crack.”
One minute later the news presenter had breaking news delivered directly to her.
“Hold on…..we’ve just has word that Silvio Berlusconi has been watching BBC News, and on behalf of the Italian football team has accepted the challenge.”
