Britain’s worst idlers – the MPs who wrote Britannia Unchained

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bailing, banker, benefit, benefits, borrow, Britannia, Britannia Unchained, British, Cameron, Chris, comic, commerce, commercial, constituencies, constituency, Dandy, David, debt, director, directorship, disabled, dividend, Dominic Raab, economy, effort, elite, Elizabeth, employment, Enterprise, executive, expense, failure, financier, Free, Free Enterprise Group, GDP, government, graft, grant, Group, humour, hypocrite, idlers, industry, Kwarteng, Kwasi, laziness, leave, lie-in, manager, mismanage, MP, Patel, pay, pension, political, price, Priti, promotion, propoganda, reckless, remuneration, resettlement, reshuffle, right-wing, risk, salaries, salary, senior, share, shareholder, sick, Skidmore, slacker, something-for-nothing, subsidise, subsidy, tax, Tory, Tory-led, Truss, Unchained, unemployment, vacation, workers

I have been saddened to learn of two events that will take place in the near future: The death of The Dandy, and the publication of Britannia Unchained.

The first needs little introduction to British readers; it’s the UK’s longest-running children’s humour comic, which will cease publication (in print form) towards the end of this year, on its 75th anniversary. The second appears to be an odious political tract scribbled by a cabal of ambitious right-wing Tory MPs, desperate to make a name for themselves by tarring British workers as “among the worst idlers in the world”.

The connection? Even at the end of its life, there is better and more useful information in The Dandy than there will be in Britannia Unchained.

The book’s authors, Priti Patel, Elizabeth Truss, Dominic Raab, Chris Skidmore, and Kwasi Kwarteng, all members of the Free Enterprise Group of Tory MPs, argue that British workers are “among the worst idlers in the world”, that the UK “rewards laziness” and “too many people in Britain prefer a lie-in to hard work”.

They say the UK needs to reward a culture of “graft, risk and effort” and “stop bailing out the reckless, avoiding all risk and rewarding laziness”.

Strong words – undermined completely by the authors’ own record of attendance at their place of work.

Chris Skidmore’s Parliamentary attendance record is just 88.1 per cent – and he’s the most diligent of the five. Kwasi Kwarteng weighs in at 87.6 per cent; Elizabeth Truss at 85.3 per cent; and Priti Patel at 81.8 per cent. Dominic Raab is the laziest of the lot, with Parliamentary attendance of just 79.1 per cent.

To put that in perspective, if I took more than a week’s sick leave per year from my last workplace, I would have been hauled up before the boss and serious questions asked about my future at the company. That’s a 97.9 per cent minimum requirement. Who are these slackers to tell me, or anyone else who does real work, that we are lazy?

Some have already suggested that these evil-minded hypocrites are just taking cheap shots at others, to make themselves look good for promotion in an autumn reshuffle. Maybe this is true, although David Cameron would be very unwise to do anything but distance himself from them and their dangerous ideas.

I think this is an attempt to deflect attention away from the way the Tory-led government has mismanaged the economy, and from its murderous treatment of the sick and disabled. As one commentator put it: “They get a token Asian, a token African, a token Jew, mix in the middle class/grammar school rubbish propaganda, and suddenly they are just ordinary people? No they are not; they are stooges for the ruling elite.”

Britain doesn’t reward laziness among its working class. What it rewards is failure by managers, directors of industry, financiers. These people continually increase their salaries and other remuneration while their share prices fall, their dividend payments are lacklustre and shareholder value is destroyed. What have they given shareholders over the past 10 years? How many industrial or commercial leaders have walked off with millions, leaving behind companies that were struggling, if not collapsing? Does the criticism in Britannia Unchained apply to senior executives and bankers?

Our MPs are as much to blame as big business. They vote themselves generous pay, pensions and extended vacations (five months per year). They never start work before 11am, never work weekends (or most Fridays, when they are supposed to be in their constituencies, if I recall correctly). They enjoy fringe benefits including subsidised bars, restaurants and gyms. They take part-time directorships in large companies which take up time they should be using to serve the public. Only a few years ago we discovered that large numbers of them were cheating on their expense claims. They take more than £32,000 in “Resettlement Grant” if we kick them out after one term – which, in my opinion, means all five authors of Britannia Unchained should be applying for it in 2015.

These are the people who most strongly represent the ‘something-for-nothing’ sense of entitlement the book decries.

Have any of them ever worked in a factory or carried out manual labour? I’ll answer that for you: With the exception of Elizabeth Truss, who did a few years as a management accountant at Shell/Cable and Wireless, none of them have ever done anything that could be called real work.

In fact, the people they accuse work very long hours – especially the self-employed. When I ran my own news website, I was busy for 12-14 hours a day (much to the distress of my girlfriend). Employees also work long hours, get less annual leave, earn less and pay more – in prices for consumer goods, taxes and hidden taxes – than most of Europe. Average monthly pay rates have now dropped so low that they are failing to cover workers’ costs, leading to borrowing and debt.

Are British workers really among the laziest in the world? Accurate information is hard to find but it seems likely we’re around 24th on the world league table. On a planet with more than 200 sovereign nations (204 attended the London Olympics), that’s not too shabby at all.

Interestingly, the European workers clocking on for the fewest hours are German. Those lazy Teutons! How dare they work so little and still have the powerhouse economy of the continent?

If so many are reluctant to get up in the morning, why are the morning commuter trains standing room only? Or have the Britannia Unchained crowd never used this form of travel?

It seems to me that Britannia Unchained is just another attempt by the Tory right to make us work harder for less pay. The Coalition is currently cutting the public sector and benefits to the bone, while failing to introduce policies that create useful employment, and trying to boost private sector jobs. The private sector has cut wages and pensions. The result is higher unemployment and benefits that cannot sustain living costs, creating a working-age population desperate for any kind of employment at all (even at the too-low wages already discussed).

And let’s remember that Conservatives want to remove employment laws to make it easier to dismiss employees. In other words, they want a workforce that will toil for a pittance, under threat of swift dismissal and the loss of what little they have.

Why do they think this will improve the UK’s performance?

We already work longer hours and have less protective legislation than in Europe (such as the European Time Directive). But we are less productive in terms of GDP than their French and German counterparts, who work fewer hours and are protected by the likes of the ETD.

France is more unionised than we are, yet its production per employee is higher.

The problem is poor management and bad leadership. Poor productivity is almost always due to poor investment and poor training. Workers are abused when they should be treated as an investment. They lose motivation and when managers get their decisions wrong, they blame the workers.

Working class people are sick of grafting for low pay and in poor working conditions, to be exploited by the types of people represented by the authors of Britannia Unchained.

Is it any wonder we feel de-motivated?

I started this article by linking The Dandy to Britannia Unchained, noting that one was coming to the end of its life in print while the other was about to be published for the first time. I’ll end by pointing out a quality they have in common.

The Dandy is closing because it represents ideas that are now tired and out-of-date. Britannia Unchained should never see publication – for the same reason.

My part in the war on drugs

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'monkey on my back', baggie, comedy, drugs, humour, lavendar, mellow, narcotic, police, potpourri, smoke, smoking, snort

I found a suspicious looking plastic bag, filled with a finely-ground herbal substance, on the worktop in the kitchen just now.

“Here,” I called out to Mrs Mike. “What’s this?”

“Smell it,” was the answer.

So I did. Interesting aroma; kind of sweet. Nice. Mellowing. I recognised it.

But I said: “What d’you think would happen if the police came knocking and found this?”

This is not as far from the possible as it may seem. We used to have a bush growing by the front door that smelt suspiciously like a certain Grade B narcotic substance, that caused many a raised eyebrow among visitors until we eventually dug it up.

So picture the scene if you can: In come the coppers – Sergeant and Constable.

Sergeant: ‘Allo, ‘allo, ‘allo, wot’s all this then?

Constable: It’s a dodgy-lookin’ baggie, is wot it is, sir!

Sergeant: Well spotted, Constable! Now then, you: Wot’s in it?

Mrs Mike: Lavendar!

Sergeant: Oi’ve never ‘eard it called that before. Right, Constable! Take it to the lab for examination! And don’t you open that bag before I get there!

Next thing, they’d be after evidence from local contacts. As this bag was intended for a friend down the road, she’d be the first to be interviewed:

Friend: Yeah, I remember ‘ow it ‘appened. She turned up on my doorstep with the bag in her hand. ‘Smell this,’ she said. So I did. It smelt goooOOOOoood. So I said I’d ‘ave some. Next day she turned up with some more and before you knew it I had a floral monkey on my back!

We could even end up seeing reports about it on the TV news.

Newscaster: A new strain of narcotic drug is sweeping across Mid Wales, according to police. ‘Lavendar’ is the street name for the substance – a name derived from its sweet smell, which is believed to be the reason the drug is snorted, rather than smoked. It is believed to induce feelings of mellowness, serenity, and an urge to make potpourri.

This is Mike Sivier, your correspondent in the war on drugs, signing off – for now.

But is it art?

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art, Barry Humphries, comedy, cow in formaldehyde, Dame Edna Everage, Damien Hirst, humour, Mike Sivier, mikesivier, Oscar Wilde

‘Herr Gunter Ground [not his real name], aged 41, mislaid the keys to his house and attempted to crawl in through the catflap. Unfortunately he got stuck halfway, and couldn’t get out again. A passing group of students then spotted him and decided to take advantage of the poor man. So they removed his trousers, painted his buttocks bright blue and stuck a daffodil in his bum, and erected a sign saying, “Germany resurgent, an essay in street art – please give generously.”

‘Passers-by were assured that Herr Ground’s screams were all part of the act and he remained stuck there for two days. He was only freed when an old woman called the police. “I kept shouting for help,” said Herr Ground, “but people kept saying, ‘very good, very clever’ and throwing coins at me.”‘

Hasn’t art become a cynical business? The example above is a bit extreme, but it does show how people are prepared to pay for all sorts of things if they show – not necessarily any kind of aesthetic beauty that is otherwise useless (all art is useless, according to Oscar Wilde) but that the artist is clever.

Look at Damien Hirst’s ‘Cow in Formaldehyde’. Lots of people have asked whether that is really art.

However, I’m not one to miss a bandwagon if I can get on it. Noting that Barry Humphries (otherwise known as Dame Edna Everage) has stolen a huge head start on me with his painting of yellow liquid in a pair of Wellingtons – ‘Pus in Boots’ – I have set about creating some artworks of my own.

I’m very proud of one image – an enormous, panoramic view of the starscape above a darkened British horizon, showing a night sky full of colourful nebulae, shooting stars, and other astronomical phenomena, over the shadowy silhouettes of a circle of vehicles, gathered around a couple in the act of physical affection. I call it ‘Dog Star’.

The idea doesn’t have to be saucy, though. Another one I had was of a warrant officer or petty officer in charge of a ship’s rigging, anchors, cables, and deck crew, directing them during a storm, so that only his nametag was visible. I’d call that one ‘Higgs the Bos’n’.

And just recently I thought of a very postmodern idea, of a British policeman accosting the late actor whose real name was Marion Morrison: ‘Constable’s Hey, Wayne’.

There’s only one thing stopping me from putting these ideas onto canvas – the fear that some credulous ‘art connoisseurs’ might actually buy them!

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Something for the weekend: A festive cheerio

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BBC, Christmas, comedy, humour, I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue, Mike Sivier, mikesivier, radio, The Snowman

I think we’re far enough away from the Festive Season, now, that I can get away with posting this and not offend anybody’s sensibilities. It sums up my feelings about a certain element of that part of year, and I don’t think I’m the only one.

(The clip is taken from I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Christmas Clue, which is available on CD from BBC Audio/AudioGO and is used for review purposes – in other words, to have a laugh. Also to encourage you to go out and discover Clue for yourself because it’s brilliant).

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Yachting his copy book

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Adam Werrity, Coalition, comedy, Conservative, Daily Mirror, David Cameron, Department for Education, Department of Education, Diamond Jubilee, government, HM The Queen, humour, Liam Fox, Michael Gove, Mike Sivier, mikesivier, Parliament, people, politics, Queen, Robert Maxwell, Tories, Tory, yacht

“There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile,
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together until he fell off his yacht.”

It would be wrong to suggest that Michael Gove is crooked; indeed it would be stretching a point to suggest he was even bent in any way – although I do think that the Conservative Party is long overdue for another legover crisis and that Gove should be at the centre of it when it happens, if only to prove which way he swings (so to speak).

The only whisper of any kind of interpersonal wrongdoing that we’ve had in this government so far is the relationship between former Defence Secretary Liam Fox and a gentleman called Adam Werrity who seemed to be such a fan that he had to follow Dr Fox wherever he went, claiming to be a member of his entourage who could get the then-cabinet minister to make certain arrangements in return for a bung. But that was more The Financial Arrangement That Dare Not Speak Its Name.

However, the rhyme at the top of this piece was the last time a yacht entered the news in any meaningful way, when the former Daily Mirror owner (and crook) Robert Maxwell disappeared from his, back in 1991(ish). I quote it to mark Gove’s latest lunatic idea – that we, the public, should buy the Queen a new yacht to mark her Diamond Jubilee.

This boat would cost £60 million, apparently – a million for every year she’s been on the throne. It would be a pointless present because, at Her Majesty’s age, she’s hardly going to be able to steer it.

The suggestion prompts me to wonder whether this is something that Tories do habitually. I mean, would he spend his own money on such lavishments?

Perhaps he’s trying to tell us that his Department for Education and Science is bucking the national trend by making money hand over fist. This would be strange behaviour for an organisation that is supposed to spend money in the most cost-effective way possible to give the nation’s young the best education possible, but I accept that in the light of my previous observations, the thought of Gove doing things ‘hand over fist’ would explain a lot.

In fact, it seems to me, the only part of the UK that has been expanding recently is the Coalition front bench. David Cameron in particular seems to be swelling up like a balloon and it occurs to me that, should matters progress as far as a ceremony to hand this proposed yacht over to Her Majesty, there’s a very real possibility that he’ll end up sliding off it.

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I can take a joke

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comedy, economics, government, humour, Mike Sivier, mikesivier, politics

My good friend Dae Thomas uploaded this picture – about me – onto Facebook:

I’m the intellectual-type stick figure in the top left frame, apparently.
But hey, at least I write about relevant things like politics and economics and government and whatnot in a fun and amusing-type way!

I also go shopping.

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Something for the weekend?

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Budleigh Salterton, Church of Scotland, comedy, double entendres, Duke of Wellington, Exmouth, Headline of the Week, humour, Jeffrey Archer, Mike Sivier, mikesivier, news clippings, News Quiz, Round the Horne, Rutland Archers, St Boswell's, UK Press Gazette, Welsh Assembly

“Monday: For sale – RD Jones has a sewing machine for sale. Phone after 7pm and ask for Mrs Kelly, who lives with him cheap.”

I was brought up on double-entendres – jokes, either intentional or otherwise, that employ double meanings that are usually orientated towards the filthy to get a laugh. The radio and TV comedies that brightened my gloomy 1970s and early 80s childhood were full of them, especially shows like ‘Round the Horne’

“Tuesday: Notice – we regret having erred in RD Jones’ ad yesterday. It should have read: ‘One sewing machine for sale, cheap. Phone and ask for Mrs Jones, who lives with him after 7pm’.”

It should come as no surprise, therefore, that this love of wordplay followed me into my working life when I embarked on a career as a journalist, reaching its zenith when I became a newspaper editor. An early headline hit was with a story about a soldier who was arrested after police found him using a statue of the Duke of Wellington as a urinal. The headline: ‘Soldier’s aim was no relief for Wellington’.

“Wednesday: RD Jones has informed us he has received several annoying calls because of an error we made in his classified ad yesterday. His ad stands corrected as follows: ‘For sale: RD Jones has one sewing machine for sale, cheap. Phone after 7pm and ask for Mrs Kelly, who loves with him’.”

Later I was to win the then-coveted Headline of the Week award in the UK Press Gazette, and praise as a “genius” from their reporter, when I headlined an article on Welsh Assembly plans to promote the Welsh language with the words ‘Cunning Linguists’.

“Thursday: Notice: I, RD jones, have NO sewing machine for sale. I smashed it. Don’t call my number as the telephone has been disconnected. I have not been carrying on with Mrs Kelly. Until yesterday she was my housekeeper, but she quit.”

With the weekend upon us, after a series of blogs on very heavy subjects, I thought it was time to lighten the mood with a few favourite double-entendre news cuttings, along with some quotes from the BBC’s News Quiz in similar vein (I was listening to old tapes of the show in order to dig out material on Peter Lilley for today’s other blog).

If anyone reading this would like to add clippings that they have found, please feel free to use the ‘Comments’ column for this purpose.

“See the bowmen of Rutland in action next weekend at the Rutland Agricultural Show, and why not have a go yourself? The Rutland Archers are always looking for new members, and are currently targeting disabled people.”

“A friend of Serena’s said David has talked of marriage. She feels she is still rather young, and he does have a long turn to page 3, column 1.”

“St Boswell’s Councillor Edward Bryden has called for action to be taken against dog fouling on a sports pitch at St Boswell’s. Cllr Bryden said, ‘I’ve had a number of complaints from residents about the amount of dog dirt found there. I’ve told them to put their concerns on paper and send them to the district council.'”

From The News Quiz: “There was a story about the Church of Scotland updating its hymnery because a lot of the old hymns are full of ghastly double-entendres which lots of young people find rather risible. Things like ‘O Mighty One, show me the size of your enormousness’. Apparently that is, verbatim, a hymn. There’s another that says, ‘Sweet Lord, I wouldn’t put that in the fridge if I were you’.
“Meanwhile, the Catholic Church is set to instigate a similar scheme after the line ‘Onward with the horn of plenty, father to us all’ provoked mass sniggers in a Galway Church.”

From the News Quiz, 1993: “Jeffrey Archer’s gardener, Richard Ovary, had a sex change. It’s a case of saying goodbye to Dick… and hello to Rachel. The transformation has been welcomed by Lord Archer, who has always claimed that his staff were a cut above the rest. Meanwhile Rachel has given the novelist her support – and the rest of her rugby kit. The Archers are keeping Rachel on to care for their grounds, although tactfully Lady Archer has volunteered to prune the plum tree.”

“At a store in Bristol, an assistant didn’t know which product should be run on which button. Each time she was unsure, she would hold the product in the air and call across the shop floor to the supervisor. There were no problems until a gentleman purchased a packet of Mates (condoms). The packet was held up in the air and the call went out, “What do these go on?” The reply was unprintable.”

“On churchyard tidyness: Would everyone tending graves kindly take away with them all relative rubbish.”

“Budleigh Salterton beach has been branded a health risk in a tough new guide to beaches in the UK. The survey claims that tests carried out on the sea water off Budleigh Salterton beach failed to meet the rigorous standards of cleanliness and water quality required by the European Bathing Water Guidelines’ standards. District Councillor Ray Franklin said: ‘It’s hardly surprising. On the one side we have the Exmouth outfall pipe, and on the other the Exe estuary pipe. Budleigh is simply caught between two stools at the moment.'”

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Goons of the Year, 2011

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comedy, Conservative, Goons, government, humour, Labour, Parliament, politics

Anyone who has seen my posts on Facebook, Twitter, news media comment pages or elsewhere will know I am not a fan of the current UK government. I wrote what follows, a pastiche of the late, great Goon Show, to highlight governmental failings in the middle of last year, and I wanted to present it to you in this, my first ever blog entry.

I’d like to think it offers a small, satirical snapshot of the way we saw our political leaders in 2011. Now, at the end of that year and the beginning of the next, we can all look back upon it and (hopefully) smile.

The script is copyright Mike Sivier, of course, but if anyone should ever wish to perform this show, I’ll quite happily grant a free licence to anyone to copy it, spread it and work or edit in their own material, for the purposes of artistic creativity – on the understanding that the end product should be recorded and placed on the Internet where we can all enjoy it.

THE GOON SHOW

THE DIARY OF NEDDIE CAMERGOON

Or

THE TIGER ECONOMY

SPEAKER: This is the BBC. Big Budget Cuts presents: The Goon Show! Welcome to the House of Commons on this glorious day in mid-2011! I call on the Prime Minister, Mr Neddie Camergoon. Mr Camergoon!

SFX: Background noises of the House of Commons. Wolf-whistles, jeers, sheep-like bleating etc.

NEDDIE: My friend, the member for Shipley, makes a very good point when he asks why we’re letting disabled people sit on their backsides. Let me be clear on this: Walking sticks cost money and in times of austerity this government can hardly prop itself up, never mind anyone else!

SFX: Bleating, jeers.

NEDDIE: But his claim that they should be allowed to do an honest day’s work for less than the minimum wage is one that I’m sure our friends in big business will be very pleased to hear!

SFX: Bleating, louder jeers.

SPEAKER: Mr Millie Bandister!

MILLIE: Thank you, Mr Speaker, buddy. What – what – what does the Prime Minister intend to do, to allay fears that the NHS will be privatised by the back door?

NEDDIE: I thank the honourable gentleman for his question. In answering – and let me be clear on this! – I think he should know the only private backdoor I’m worried about is this!

SFX: RUSTLING

SPEAKER: Mr Camermoon! Pull your trousers up at once! Order! We will now hear a statement from the Secretary of State for Defence on Why We Want to Bomb Johnny Foreigner At Huge Cost to the Public Purse. The Defence Secretary – Dr Liam Censored!

SFX: Background noises fade out during the following line by Neddie.

NEDDIE: Dear Diary: Leaving the House of Conmen, I made for the Prime Minister’s office in the Palace of Westminster – a sanctuary which was itself feeling the strictures of the modern drive to Austerity!

SFX: A wild party. A band is playing a sleazy version of ‘The Stripper’; there are sounds of people at gambling tables; screams of ‘Champagne all round for the Bullingdon boys!’

POSH VOICE: Great booze-up, Neddie!

BUTLER: Excuse me, sir.

NEDDIE: Yes, what is it, Clegg?

BUTLER: Sir, there’s someone to see you in your inner sanctum.

NEDDIE: My inner sanctum? But I’m the only one who’s allowed to be sanctimonious in ‘ere!

BUTLER: I’m afraid she insisted.

NEDDIE: She?

SFX: A door opening and closing behind his next line; the party sounds become much more muffled, but do not die away completely.

NEDDIE: Good heavens! Isn’t that–?

THATCH: Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Baroness GretMarg Thatch and this is my associate, the Lord Geoffrey—

GEOFF: Owww!

NEDDIE: He’s just been Owww!

THATCH: Yes, it’s all the rage.

GEOFF: You gotta go Owww!

THATCH: So, Neddie, dear boy, how are you enjoying the office? I remember when it was mine, I had it decorated all in black leather, as far as the eye could see, with an erect horsewhip motif!

NEDDIE: Very striking!

THATCH: Yes indeed. I notice you’ve retained it.

NEDDIE: Well, I did go to Eton!

GEOFF: Owww!

NEDDIE: He’s just been Owww! Again!

THATCH: Yes. He never thinks of anything else these days.

NEDDIE: Perhaps he went to Eton, too.

THATCH: Settle down, Neddie. Have a gorilla.

NEDDIE: No thanks; they hurt my throat.

THATCH: Oh – naughty gorillas!

NEDDIE: Have one of my monkeys – they’re milder!

THATCH: All right; I’ll have William Hague.

GEOFF: And I’ll have Francis Maude! Owww…

THATCH: Quiet, you steaming Lord! Now, Charlie –

NEDDIE: Neddie!

THATCH: Did I call you Charlie? I do apologise. You see, you look like a Charlie to me. Why don’t you pull up a chair?

NEDDIE: I prefer to stand.

THATCH: Very well – stand on a chair. Now, Neddie, we need your help! We’ve learned that – in their last months in office – the dreaded Laborious Party were raising a deadly creature to defeat us!

NEDDIE: Those fiends! So it’s all Labour’s fault!

THATCH: You see, the Eco-gnome is too small, Neddie!

NEDDIE: Sort of an eco-garden-gnome?

THATCH: Precisely! So they started building it up into a thrusting new ‘Tiger’ eco-gnome, worthy to take on even the emerging powers of India and the Far East!

NEDDIE: Bonsai!

THATCH: Gesundheit. They had been holding this Tiger at bay –

NEDDIE: Tiger Bay? So it was the Welsh eco-gnome!

THATCH: – Awaiting the signal to strike! But we’ve heard that there’s a little problem with their great big tiger…

NEDDIE: What’s that?

GEOFF: It’s escaped and gone back to the wild. Owww…

THATCH: And that’s where you come in. Neddie, we want you to bring this tiger to heel before it gets out of control altogether!

GEOFF: You’ll be Top of the Toffs if you do!

THATCH: And as a reward, I shall personally give you a postal order for five pounds in fivers. That’s five whole pounds, Neddie, plus my gratitude!

NEDDIE: What an honour! I shall start at once! Top of the Toffs? Me? CLEGG!!!

SFX: Door opening and closing; party noises get louder when it opens and die away again as it closes.

THATCH: If he brings the economy under control, we’ll be well in the money. We can call on favours from the whole financial sector. Our friends in the city will make us rich beyond the dreams of Goodwin! And you know what that means, don’t you?

GEOFF: Owww…

TOGETHER: (singing) April in Paree…!

NEDDIE: I knew I’d need help tracking down a tiger, so I called my friend Boris. Let me be clear on this: he resembles a bear more than a tiger but I thought he might have contacts.

SFX: Telephone ringtone ‘Tomorrow belongs to me’.

NEDDIE: Hello yes Boris? Fancy some cash? I need to trace an escaped—

SFX: WHOOSH!

MURDOCH: G’day Prime Minister! I hear you need help with your etcetera etcetera etcetera!

NEDDIE: How did you know?

MURDOCH: I’ve been hacking into your phone calls. What? No! What am I saying? I mean, I have my sources!

NEDDIE: And who are you?

MURDOCH: Allow me to introduce myself! I’m Major Rupert Murdoch, late of Her Majesty’s First Dirty Diggers! I’ll be delighted to chase your beast to ground – for a small consideration, of course!

BROOKS (incredibly deep voice): Major! The Tiger Economy is at large in the North of England!

MURDOCH: Thank you, Rebekah! How do you know that?

BROOKS: We got it from John Prescott’s voicemail!

MURDOCH: The game’s afoot! And now, a short interlude.

NEDDIE: Right, round the back for the old brandy!

MUSIC: Captain Ska – ‘Liar Liar’

SPEAKER: Part Two, in which our heroes (ha ha) find themselves in a position familiar to many commuters in modern Britain.

NEDDIE: Why are we slowing down?

MURDOCH: We can’t go this way! There are rioters up ahead and your Home Secretary has called out the Army!

NEDDIE: She’s done what? I thought we sacked all the squaddies. Right! Turn around!

SFX: Car screeching to a halt, reversing, squealing into motion again.

NEDDIE: That’s better.

SFX: Car screeching to a halt.

NEDDIE: What now?

MURDOCH: It’s a student demonstration against the trebling of tuition fees and the scrapping of the EMA, whatever that is!

NEDDIE: Turn around again!

SFX: Car reversing, squealing into motion again.

NEDDIE: All these U-turns! At this rate – and let me be clear on this! – we’ll never get anywhere!

SFX: Car screeching to a halt.

NEDDIE: This had better be good.

MURDOCH: It’s a tree that’s fallen across the road!

NEDDIE: What what what what what! Now even the forestry is putting us into reverse? (Sighs) You know what to do.

SFX: Car reversing, squealing into motion again.

NEDDIE: Stop! Stop the car! I want to get off! Stop stop stoppeee!

SFX: SCREECH!

SFX: Door opening.

SFX: Ha-RALPH!

BYSTANDER: ‘Ere – ain’t you the Prime Minister?

NEDDIE: Why, yes! That’s right…

BYSTANDER: If that’s what you do to yourself, think how we feel about yer!

NEDDIE: Dear Diary – We found ourselves in a desolate slum alley that could be anywhere north of Finchley.

MURDOCH: Right, this’ll do. Assemble the troops, Rebekah.

BROOKS: Yes sir. Anything else?

MURDOCH: Yes!

BROOKS: Right.

SFX: Lots of ‘falling in’-type sounds as Murdoch’s slovenly band of ragtags assemble themselves.

MURDOCH: Hacks – from the right, number!

HACK 1: One

HACK 2: One!

HACK 3: One…

NEDDIE: Why are they only saying the same number?

MURDOCH: My hacks all think they’re number one! Right, boys – spread out and look for it!

HACKS: (Rousing cheer).

MURDOCH: The beast! Look for the beast! You’re not at the News of the World now!

SFX: WHOOSH!

HACK: Major M – we’ve found a lead and we’re pursuing it!

MURDOCH: What? Ooh, me narglers, that was quick! Show me.

BROOKS: This is the man, sir.

MURDOCH: Thank you, Rebekah. Go and have a drink of water. Now, what’s the matter with him?

NEDDIE: He’s out cold.

MURDOCH: That won’t do at all! Quick! Open up his jacket and take the weight of his wallet off his chest!

WILLIUM: Ohhh – Mate! Hands off the merchandise!

MURDOCH: That’s more like it! Speak up, man – what happened to you?

WILLIUM: Ohhh – Mate! I come up here to get away from the pressures of the city, didn’t I? Me banker’s bonus was getting’ me down, mate!

NEDDIE: What what what what what what? You were feeling guilty that you had so much and other people didn’t have anything?

WILLIUM: Nah, mate! Not big enough for the holiday I wanted in Bermuda!… Only six watts? You’re not very bright are you?

NEDDIE: I don’t wish to know that.

WILLIUM: Well, I just—

NEDDIE: Ying Tong Iddle I Po!

WILLIUM: All right, well I come up ‘ere instead. There I was, mindin’ me own business when some bloke sez, ‘Dost tha’ see that ‘orrible cloud on’t ’orizon? ‘Appen ah wunduhs what that is, lake’. I didn’t understand a word but up I looks an’ WALLOP! First I was inflated, then deflated and then I went into a slump!

HACK: That’s how I found ‘im, sir!

NEDDIE: You poor man! How do you feel now?

WILLIUM: A bit downhearted, mate.

NEDDIE: He’s going into a double-dip depression! Quick! Get him to a hospital!

SFX: WHOOSH! (Ambulance noises) WHOOSH!

MURDOCH: That was quick. Was that a National Health ambulance?

NEDDIE: Good lord, no. They can’t afford ambulances these days! That was from the new, private healthcare company – Neddie’s Health Service! Now give me his wallet. Let me be clear on this: he’ll need every penny where he’s going!

ORCHESTRA: Musical link.

NEDDIE: Dear diary: Days passed by – I couldn’t stop them! – with no sign of the recalcitrant beast. Then:-

SFX: Door opening.

MURDOCH: Camergoon – we’ve got a lead! And we’re going to put it on your beastie! This man says he’s seen the eco-gnomee in the flesh!

SPRIGGS: Hello Jim! Hello Ji-^im! Hello Jim.

CAMERGOON: You’ve seen it? It’s come out of recession?

SFX: Groans.

SPRIGGS: No Jim, I’m saying it’s been living in my house!

SPRIGGS: I came home for the weekend and there it was, feet up, reading the paper, Jim. In the library.

CAMERGOON: Hmm. The library, you say?

SPRIGGS: The library I sa-^ay!

CAMERGOON: Where does he live? I mean, where do you live?

MURDOCH: Number 23 Perversity Gardens, Twinge! We can get there quick if we hop on the next musical link.

ORCHESTRA: Musical link.

MURDOCH: Ahooh Oh Ooh! That’s what I get for hopping on a link with no corridor! Here we are!

SFX: Knocking on the door. Door opening.

SFX: Donkey noises.

CAMERGOON: Excuse me. I’m so sorry to bother you, but we have reason to believe the British economy is living at this address.

SFX: More donkey noises.

CAMERGOON: Only we’d like to have a word with it, if possible. Could it come to the door?

SFX: Elephant roar, followed by donkey braying and farting. Door slams.

SPRIGGS: Oh dear, Jim. What will the neighbours think?

FLOWERDEW (camp voice): Shut up you! It was perfectly quiet here before you came along!

NEDDIE: Hang on. An elephant – and then a donkey? And we’re looking for the tiger economy?

NEDDIE: It’s all rather confusing, really.

MURDOCH: We’ve got to show it who’s boss!

NEDDIE: Let me be clear about this-

OTHERS: (collective groans at what is now clearly a catchphrase that he’s used far too often)

NEDDIE: We’ll have to starve it out! Quick! Cut public spending by 16 billion pounds! In Sterling!

SFX: Animal shrieks.

MURDOCH: Here it comes!

NEDDIE: I don’t wish to know that – oh I see.

SFX: Door opens. Hoofbeats galloping nearer.

SPRIGGS: At last! The economy is speeding up!

MURDOCH: Don’t let it get away! Grab it! Look out – it’s going to charge!

SFX: Hoofbeats. Thud!

MURDOCH: Mind the pond!

SFX: SPLASH

LITTLE JIM: He’s fallen in the wa-ter!

MURDOCH: Here lad – take my hand!

NEDDIE: Why? Are you a stranger in paradise?

NEDDIE: I swam to the shore, towelling myself off as I went to save time. Then:-

SFX: Hoofbeats. Donkey noises and farting sounds.

NEDDIE: It’s weakening! One more push ought to do it! Push VAT up to 20 per cent!

SFX: Donkey farts. A monumental crash to indicate the beast keeling over.

MUSIC: The Specials – Ghost Town.

NEDDIE: Dear diary – oh! I seem to have mislaid it! Perhaps I dropped it in the melee? It’s all Labour’s fault! Never mind. We returned to London in triumph and imprisoned the beast in the darkest dungeons of HM Treasury. For the task of minding it, I called on my two best men…

(PAUSE)

BOTTLE: Have you ever minded a vicious tiger eco-gnome before M’Eccles?

SFX: Rapturous canned applause.

M’ECCLES: (Pause) No.

SFX: More rapturous canned applause.

M’ECCLES: Oi’m not really boddered by it now, either. Mr Chancellor of the Exchequer Bluebottle sir.

BOTTLE: No.

M’ECCLES: It does not bodder me… at all.

BOTTLE: You’re a happy-go-lucky boy, ain’t you, M’Eccles?

M’ECCLES: Yer. ‘Ere, wait a minute…

(PAUSE)

M’ECCLES: OI!

SFX: Elephant/donkey noises.

M’ECCLES (over the top): Dat made ‘im jump! Did you see dat? Ha ha har! Did you see, Bottle, dat-

BOTTLE: You’re a naughty cruel thing, M’Eccles! You might have an eco-gnome of your own one day!

M’ECCLES: Oi don’t t’ink so, Bottle. Oi always wanted to work in der Treasury but der bigger boys wouldn’t let me! Look at M’Eccles dere, dey said. ‘E can’t do ‘is sums, loike. So, I just sit ‘ere wid moi bricks an’ ignore dem!

M’ECCLES: One an’ one is two; two an’ two is four; four an’ four – One an’ one is two…

BOTTLE: I can add up better than that! Alice Thripp has been teaching me. You’re a silly-

M’ECCLES: You want to be careful what you say to me, Bottle! ‘Ave you heard of Traf’n’galgar Square an’ Mill’n’bank? Well… just you watch it den! Oi’m der Secretary of State for Education, me!

BOTTLE: Yes. You’re an important man in White’n’hall!

M’ECCLES: Yeah, yeah.

BOTTLE: So why does you keep on makin’ up different types of school and then spending hundreds of dozens of Sterling-type pounds on them?

M’ECCLES: Oi’ll tell you why, moi good man! If oi keep goin’, oi’m bound to foind one dat doesn’t make me stand in a corner wid a pointy ‘at on moi ‘ead!

BOTTLE: But I don’t know which school I’m goin’ to, now! There’s five on my street!

M’ECCLES: Dat’s freedom of choice for you.

BOTTLE: Is that enough amusing-type dialogue for the listeners? Good, ‘cos it is time to feed the ani-mile.

M’ECCLES: Well all right, oi’d like bangers and mash. And afterwards, if you’re nice, oi might let you pat me on der head.

BOTTLE: Not you, my good man!

M’ECCLES: Oh you mean der udder animal. Ho-kay den, what ‘ave we a-bin givin’ it?

BOTTLE: Disabled people … and students.

M’ECCLES: Yeah- ‘Ere! Oi’m der Minister for Students ‘ent oi? If you’m feedin’ ‘im students, who am oi goin’ ter be der boss of?

BOTTLE: Do not worry, my good man! My captain says it is all right. He says he’s makin’ your job easier.

M’ECCLES: Well den, moi good man, oi’ll make your job easier!

SFX: Footsteps fading away into the distance.

BOTTLE: What is this? M’Eccles? Where is you goin’? Don’t leave me in da dark! I don’t like it here!

SFX: A loud clank – a chain rattling. Then a loud noise of a chain breaking.

BOTTLE: What’s dat? M’Eccles? Was that you? Are you having a practical joke-type laugh? Are you gonna come back so we can be all boys together? I’ll let you go ‘Owww’!

BOTTLE: He’s gone.

(PAUSE)

BOTTLE: I wonder what it would be like to see the inner workings of a major western economy first-hand?

SFX: CHOMP!

BOTTLE: Oaoww so this is what it’s like!

SFX: Choking noises. Loud crash. Death rattle.

NEDDIE: (Voice fading in, to show he’s entering the room) Right, let’s get to work on this Econo-thing! We’ll soon have it jumping at our very command – wait! What’s this? Why is it lying on its back with its legs sticking up in the air like that? Call me a pessimist, but- I… don’t think it’s supposed to be doing that!

NEDDIE: Clegg! Prise its jaws open!

SFX: Loud creaking sound.

BOTTLE: You rotten swines!

NEDDIE: It’s a masticated Chancellor! What are you doing in there?

BOTTLE: You’ve deaded me! Look at my superhero-style shorts! They’re all chewed to ribbons! I am expo-sed! How am I going to get Molly Prock to look at me in the playground now?

NEDDIE: If you’re that exposed, it won’t be a problem! Clegg! Close it up again; it’s the only way he’ll be quiet!

SFX: Loud creaking sound, over BOTTLE’s protestations.

BOTTLE: But- No- My Captain- Wait- It’s all gone dark!

NEDDIE: Dear diary- oh, silly me! I lost it. I’ll have to make a mental note. Mental note: What am I going to do now? The economy is as dead as the NHS will be, if Andrew Lansley gets his way. We must revive it! But how? It’s all Labour’s fault!

MURDOCH: He’s musing.

BUTLER (Clegg): Not very.

MILLIE BANDISTER: Mr Camergoon! I want a word with you!

NEDDIE: Mr Bandister! Good morning! What can I do for –

MILLIE: (drowning him out as soon as he’s said ‘morning’) Mor-^ning!

(Everyone joins in, so we get a chorus of ‘Morning!’s for a few seconds).

NEDDIE: Are we done?

MILLIE: Yes. Mr Camergoon, allow me to introduce Henry Crun. He’s a private investigator.

CRUN: Yes, Millie. I investigate privates.

MILLIE: You naughty devil!

MILLIE: Tell him what else you’ve investigated.

CRUN: Mr Camergoon, I found a diary!

NEDDIE: What’s that got to do with – wait! No! Not … my diary?

CRUN: Would you mind toning down the overacting so I can read you an extract? Here’s a good one: “May 10. Now I’m PM I’ll be able to give tax breaks to all my rich pals from the banks and the Bullingdon club – the plebs can pay down the deficit! When they fail, I’ll use it as an excuse to cut public services or privatise them, then my rich chums can profit even more! I’ll say it’s all Labour’s fault!’

MILLIE: Shame on you, Mr Camergoon!

CRUN: Yes, Millie. Or this one: “I may have been economical with the truth during the election campaign but I’m sure nobody will remember me saying that VAT won’t be going up. Or that we won’t reorganise the NHS. Or that there won’t be any frontline cuts. Or that –‘

MILLIE: Yes, Henry, you’ve made your point.

CRUN: That – what? Please don’t interrupt, Millie! This is a long list! Now… where was I?

NEDDIE: Who knows?

MILLIE: Mr Camergoon, you have not been straight with the British people! When I heard about your tax breaks, I asked the people at Customs and Exercise what was going on and they said £120 billion per year isn’t being collected from the rich! Either you get them to pay up now, or you can pay it off yourself!

NEDDIE: Now, let’s be reasonable-

MILLIE: We have your diary! It’s all the proof we need. When the public find out about this, they’ll want your head on a plate!

CRUN: And possibly other parts of you. Your cuts have made them very hungry and you are quite… rotund.

SFX: Commotion as of a door opening. Sound of a tape being played very fast to indicate conversation.

BUTLER: Sir! Disaster! Riots have broken out in London and are spreading to other cities! It’ll cost at least £100 million to clean up!

MILLIE: So Mr Camergoon – who will have to pay? Your rich tax-dodging Bullingdon banker chums? Or will you foot the bill?

NEDDIE: Come come, dear friend! Let’s not be hasty! Let’s discuss strategies! Let’s talk about it! Let me be clear on this!

EVERYONE ELSE: (Groans. Cries of ‘Not again!’)

NEDDIE: Let’s all go ‘Owww’ together!

MILLIE: Yes – for £100 million pounds!

NEDDIE: Owww!

MILLIE: One hundred million pounds please!

ORCHESTRA: Signature tune and down for:-

SPEAKER: That was The Goon Show, a Big Budget Cuts programme. Script by Mike Sivier in tribute to Spike Milligan – Order, order! – and the programme that was originally produced by Peter Eton, Pat Dixon, Charles Chilton and John Browell.

ORCHESTRA: Signature tune up to end.

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