4 August 2011

Thinking Paper # 43: Excerpts from the journal of David Cameron's bald spot‏

... My day starts when his does. Early. I've spent the night with my face in a pillow. The pillow smells nice; I think Sam uses 3 in 1 detergent. He's up and he yawns. Then he sighs. Sometimes I think that he resents his job. Someone called Liz comes into the flat above No10 at about 6am and I see the hairs up her nose and the wrinkles on her neck as she combs his hair back, covering me with a thin veil of blonde-brown hair for the rest of the day. It's nice under here, but who's he kidding? Why does he hide me away like this, pretending that I don't exist? It's no shame to be bald.

It's PMQs and I can hear the baying of the mob. I can hear the nasal sound of Ed Miliband and I know my time is coming. I feel Dave leap to his feet. The well moisturised fist slamming into the despatch box loosens the hair covering me from the world, and I can see the Parliamentary sketch writers on the balcony overlooking the commons floor. I see Simon Hoggart scribbling frantically as he spots me. He looks excited. This is the only time of the day when I get to see the world. I see the fat Tory faces behind my Dave, cheering and jeering like a pack of well fed swine. With a careful swish of a hand, he pushes his hair back over me and I sit waiting for the next question to anger him.

The rest of the day passes in a dizzying blur and then the evening arrives. Someone enters the flat, their presence marked by a soft padding of feet on the carpet. It's Steve, he's in his favourite socks. I see up his nose and I see his visionary eyes as he rubs Rosemary oil into me, making sensitive noises and voicing words of concern and support as Dave explains to him that he doesn't want to do a William Hague.

The day ends as I rest once again into a soft and well perfumed pillow. I hear voices. I hear Sam bitterly state "you wanted to be bloody Prime Minister... live with it". Dave sounds exasperated. I fall asleep and dream about being Nick Clegg’s strong head of hair. It feels nice.

Still to come... "Excerpts from the journal of Nick Cleggs damaged sense of worth" and "a short story from the perspective of Ed Milibands post operation nose".

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