Calling Hazel Blears

Went down to that London again today, to do some more recording for the forthcoming Radio Four programme ‘On The Top Deck’. We went to interview a senior Labour MP in his office, who, discretion being the better part of valour, I’d best not name. Bix Biederbecke was playing on his office stereo as we arrived.  He was very much in his anecdotage, and went so far, entirely unprompted, as to confirm the truth of both the Mark Oaten glass-topped coffee table story and the Mandelson mushy peas/guacamole debacle.

I liked him, in so far as it is possible to like a New Party MP. He was, for example, engagingly anti-rugby, calling it ‘the egg rolling game’. He talked about a particular bus junction as being the ‘chrono-synclastic infundibulum’ of London’s bus network. If more politicians read Vonnegut, the world would be a nicer place. What puzzles me, though, is how anyone could want to become a politician after reading him.

During the course of the interview, we had cause to discuss some research emanating from the sociology department of the University of Salford. He said, I know a woman who knows everything about Salford. He got out his mobe and dialled a number. It was Hazel Blears. He said, Hello darling. He told her that he had stuck up for her that morning on LBC. He said, listen sweetheart, the reason I’m ringing is that I’m with two over paid hacks from the BBC, and they want to know about sociology in Salford.

They shared some chat, while I stared open-mouthed at the only person who ever called me over-paid; somewhat rich, you might think, coming from an MP. And not just that somebody would call me over paid, but that they would tell fucking Hazel Blears that I was over paid.  The numerous bailiffs who are probably trying to track me down by following this blog, and who universally feel that I owe them money, would be holding their sides to hear me described as over-paid. Lily would be quite literally wiping tears of mirth from her lovely cheeks if she heard me described as over-paid. Local tradesmen, who have got so far above their station as to refuse my cheques, would call their accountants to share the joke. Friend, if I was ‘over-paid’, I wouldn’t be standing here listening to you talk to Hazel Blears on your mobile phone.

And why do you keep calling her ‘sweetie-pie’, and ‘beautiful’? Isn’t that a bit Old Labour? And can’t we think of something more appropriate to call her?

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~ by Ian Marchant on January 8, 2009.

4 Responses to “Calling Hazel Blears”

  1. He sounds like a southerner, and a relatively posh one. Will all be revealed in the broadcast?

    In my experience most MPs anecdotes come from things they’ve little more knowledge of than having read in the paper just like the rest of us. Unless he was actually with Mandy in that chippy it is hard to know how he could confirm it of course (unless he’s really just confirming he’s heard the story).

  2. I fucking detest Hazel Blears. Is it just me or is there always a faint skittering of claws when she hoves into view or departs the scene?

  3. How awfully funny darling, catching (Who…Weeta) Bix on his cell phone to his gooseberry sweetie-pie. Mmmm, sounds as if he knows what he’s paid for promoting in his spare time…. A little more On The Buses than Old Laborious I wonder…? Happy editing of That little sketch tho’…and good work Monsieur Marchant. X

  4. The truth about the guacamole/mushy peas incident! Do tell!
    Was he being ironic, ignorant or snide?

    Sorry I missed your last gig in Lancaster ………pfffffffff thats family life for you, need I say more

    Later

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