What Ho Proles!
People often say to me: Jacob, what on earth makes you so eminently suited to being a candidate for the Conservative Party? And I usually answer them by explaining how I first met David Cameron at Eton.
David’s always been a good sort of chap. I call him ‘Dilly’ on account of his being in a dilly of a pickle the first time I met him those many glorious summers past. I’ll tell you more about that some other time, but for the moment, all I wish to say is that this demonstrates how I have always made important sacrifices in my life in order to meet the right people. Lesson to the wise: always make a sacrifice if it leads to a VIP.
These are, needless to say, sacrifices your average Jacob Q. Public would not be willing to make. Would your average milkman give up a good seat at their club in order to bump into Lord Tebbit at the bar? Would a primary school teacher miss the opening of Siegfried at the Garden in order to attend a bash where there was only a slight chance of running in to Mrs. Thatcher? No, I thought not. And that’s why I’m dead set on becoming a Member of Parliament. Serving the nation is in the Murgatroid blood. I swear it's in the DNA, though scientific bogs might argue differently.
Look at me burning the midnight oil! And I have to be up early in the morning. Busy morning at the old firm then a spot of G&T at the club. Catnap PM followd by dinner with the clan.
Tally Ho!
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