Diary of a Notting Hill nobody | 23 August 2008

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  Tamzin Lightwater

  Diary of a Notting Hill nobody | 23 August 2008

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Alexander Larman

What happened to the Rishi Sunak I knew at school?

Tuesday

V amusing round of Fantasy Tory with Poppy. It threw up an interesting ethical question — if Geri Halliwell, Madonna and Liam Gallagher are all Conservatives, then which one should we chose to introduce Dave at the 2010 victory rally? Tough one, eh?

Geri could sing ‘Congratulations, Mr Prime Minister’ in the manner of Marilyn Monroe. Then again, Madonna could do something really eye-catching with the tree logo. But of course it’s too early to think about these things. I’ve seen the Forward Strategy Grid and our first victory rally planning meeting isn’t until next March.

I’ve got to ring Jed in California now to ask him how to restart the cappuccino machine. Thank goodness he’s eight hours ahead or it would be impossible to stay in touch.

Wednesday

Mayday! Nigel says he wants the new binge drinking proposals on his desk by midday and for some reason I can’t see anything on my computer screen.

It may be partly due to the three bottles of white after work with Tom, but how else was I supposed to get over the huge telling off Jed gave me for ringing him at 5 a.m.?

Anyway, am fairly sure it was the curry afterwards which is affecting my eyesight. Am allergic to chillies. Some sort of regulatory labelling regime for Tandooris may be in order. Look, the point is, even if I did get squiffy last night, I didn’t end up sprawled on a park bench or assaulting a police officer, or stealing street furniture like these binge drinkers who make Britain like the Wild West.

After further post-match briefing from Tom I may have to amend that last statement slightly.

The point is: I didn’t end up in police custody. So.

Thursday

Found a strange piece of crumpled paper in my jacket pocket this morning. It had Metropolitan Police written on it and appears to be some sort of on the spot fine imposed for antisocial behaviour involving a traffic cone!

Clearly, the point is — if it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone. This relentless Blairite pursuit of binge drinkers has gone on long enough. Mrs T would never have tolerated it. Am going to compose a pretty stern email to Jed in California recommending a complete rethink. Just have to work out what time to send it.