Diary - A wind of change
There is something strange going on at council HQ, and I am at a loss as to where we all stand. The Rainbow Alliance is wavering. The Lib Dems are squabbling with the Tories. Labour is squabbling with the Independents and the Nationalists are just squabbling.
Julia, Lib Dem and chair of Learning Limitless, has gone back to Guildford to "find herself again". Bless. Our Leader is seeking a new running-mate. The opposition can see a chance to seize power. Thank God, I have been con-sistent in my approaches to the party leaders. I treat them equally, patronising and sycophantic to them all.
The mathematics of the power balance is delicate. The Lib Dems need to hold Julia's seat. The Tories are their major threat. Leader of the Tory Group is Robbie Robertson, landowner, huntergatherer and Fettes fencing champion (1937). Lib Dem leader is Lars Sorensen, svelte Scandinavian, naturist and wool gatherer. Would they choose candidates in their own image? Who could be the next Learning Leader - and my new boss?
I disguised myself as an elderly lady, borrowing my mother's charity shop outfits and attended both parties' public meetings. The Tories seemed keen on a certain Lizzie Farquharson. Her views on education were fairly extreme. Her views on life were fairly extreme. She could be a problem.
Sven was trying to promote Gerri, a former "dancer" whose experience was in PR and Promotions. I was worried. Gerri was a stunner, and I noticed the effect she was having on the assembled male throng. She was young, naive, attractive, and everything Lizzie was not. She had a degree in marketing from somewhere or other. Gerri wouldn't know a curriculum if she saw one. She wore a low-cut blouse, micro skirt and five-inch heels. Fake tan. Fake personality. Doomed. Unless .
There was no way I'd be working with Gerri if I could help it. Lizzie needed a wee hand. I called Gerri, pretending to be a rep for a TV company, and arranged for her to be at the council offices for 7.30pm. I also tipped off the local paper who were promised a scoop. Gerri arrived, dressed to kill, and smelling like the proverbial you-know-whose handbag.
Sven had a thing about "issues" and wasn't pleased when he discovered Gerri's gas-guzzling Hummer covered with stickers promoting nuclear energy, the war in Iraq, Freedom for Smokers, the end of the increased road tax on 4x4s and the culling of seagulls and deer. Silly Gerri. I wonder who put them there?
Sven dropped Gerri like the proverbial hot tattie (organic, of course). His new candidate is a mum of five, very attractive, from a small community council with little political experience; looks a bit like the local librarian. She seems a nice lady, although I hear she is keen on rifle shooting. Should be OK.