Good Evening. George Bunnington here. I don’t know if you are able to see me but after many years of fruitless campaigning and the determination and the steadfastness of my campaign manager Mrs Toad, I was duly elected the M.P. for Sudbury South (Conservative & Unionist) and took my seat on the back benches ready to begin work for my constituents. Can you see me? No? I’m on the right next to Bunty Moffatt.
It’s a bit of a squeeze and I’m a little perturbed regarding the fact that I can’t see a thing because of Sir Farquar Pennington-Dripfeed, a 22 stone bundle of opinions and chum of Tubby Hayhead Buffoon Boris Johnson our Prime Minister. Can you see me yet? I have a white three piece on. Actually it’s a four piece but I don’t often use the top hat.
You will remember that the last time I stood for parliament I was a Liberal Democrat. Not so this time. Having a 13 year old school newspaper editor leading the party just didn’t do it for me. I dabbled with the Brexit Party for three minutes and couldn’t stand having a leader whose last name rhymed with somewhere I leave my car to get serviced, then the Labour Party tempted me with their vow to ban rabbit hunting, good stuff but Jeremy Bernard Corbyn had about as much charisma as a broken toaster so who was left? Scottish Nationalist? Did I want Scotland to leave the Union? I mused and mused and mused and mused. Still musing actually.
But then of course the media put their spoon in the custard talking about Getting Brexit Done and Blubbering Boris negotiating a deal which was gleefully accepted by the hordes of the E.U foreign upstarts. They love the deal. Bugger me. Of course you can get a deal with that lot if you give them everything they want, a la Boris. And then I thought to myself, self I said, who cares?
The British Public had just discovered the word democracy and decided to use it, not knowing what they were talking about, on every radio talk show that they could pretend to be intelligent on. The will of the people, blah, blah, blah. I was violently sick all over my burrow. However as old Haystack head Johnson wouldn’t stop getting Brexit done and the mindless minions were swamping the streets, a la Princess Di’s Funeral, I opted for the Tories. And so here I am, getting Brexit done and nursing a sore arse from these benches.
And now some sad news. My Campaign Manager Mrs Tyoad (pronounced Tyoad as in Toad but with a y after the t) passed away in August of 2019. This was particularly sad news as her efforts to finally getting me elected were stellar. Her talents were copious: Funny (Ha Ha), witty, intelligent, determined, always a smile on her face, dogged in adversity, caring, selfless, perceptive, and …….I could go on but it would cause me to pause and whip out my handkerchief. And as for fundraising she was outstanding. (See photo below of our ultra successful Jumble Sale in which we gathered enough funds to pay for some posters telling the good people of Sudbury South to vote for me.)
And so, in the spirit of “Keep Calm and Carry on” we do. Remember the Blitz, Vera Lynne, Good old Winnie (Churchill not the Pooh), Stirling Moss, Twiggy, David Beckham and Lord Lucan. She will be sorely missed not only by myself but all who were lucky to have enjoyed her company over the years. As Edna Ferber once said of her “And I thought I was talented. Well. Nothing compared to Mrs Tyoad”. And I think that said it all.
This column will be continued by her much less talented husband Mr Tyoad. Gawd help us and Let’s Get Weetabix Done”