I read about David Cameron's resignation as an MP with a certain amount of amazement. In a matter of a few weeks, it seemed to me, the whole Tory party had fallen apart, with hardly anyone from the old Bullingdon boys' club still standing. I tried to work out what exactly this reminded me of. The closest I can get is this:
I was once part of a group of people who worked and socialised together. Two of the group hooked up. Both had come out of disastrous marriages. In both cases the other partners had called time on the relationship and there was a certain amount of let's say resentment. Their new relationship rattled along for years and years. The subject of marriage came up once in a while but both partners said they were happy to stay as they were. The rest of us were quite relieved about that, since it seemed to us that both of them were still too aware of (if not attached to) their former spouses.
However, the day came when marriage was suddenly on the cards. It was a very special event. They flew off the the Seychelles and got married on the beach, with their feet in the Indian Ocean. When they came back, they announced they were having, not a reception, but a party at their house. So we all fetched up at their door one Saturday night, arms full of drink and flowers and gifts for the newly-married couple. I remember I was holding a palm tree. We rang the bell. There was a slight pause and then one of the other guests opened the door to us.
- Come on in! he said loudly, in a tone of forced cheeriness.
As we crossed the threshold, we heard voices raised at the back of the house. Then a door slammed, footsteps sounded on the gravel down the side of the house, a car door slammed and a car zoomed to the bottom of the drive and took off on the main road. We stood transfixed in the doorway to the livingroom (rather posh - grand piano decorated with a vase of lilies, music stand beside it, a flute resting on the stand). We went in. Suddenly, someone dashed down the hall to the front door and disappeared outside. That door slammed dramatically too.
In the livingroom, us guests looked at each other.
- Em... said one of the newly-arrived guests.
The people who had been here before us shrugged.
- I suppose, said someone, we should just go.
- Bugger that, said someone else. We've come from Perth. Where's the drink? And are there any nibbles?
We raided the fridge in the kitchen and found gin, tonic, ice and lemon, a bottle of malt and a decent supply of wine. There was some champagne on ice in a bucket but it didn't seem appropriate to open it in the circumstances. A further attack on the wall units revealed glasses, not to mention nibbles. We chucked nuts and crisps into bowls left on the kitchen table and took them back to the livingroom.
A couple of hours later, our host and hostess still hadn't reappeared but we'd done justice to the drinks and the nibbles and were just talking about sending out for a curry. Then the front door opened. Aha, we thought, the happy couple.
But no, it was his sister and her auntie. They came into the livingroom - now a scene that my mother always called 'one of eastern decadence, with bottles, glasses, crisp packets and Pringles cans all over the place - and said sheepishly:
- Everybody okay?
We solemnly raised our glasses.
- Where the hell are they? asked one our number.
It was fine. They'd made up their 'tiff' and had now gone to a hotel, unable to face us after their dramatic exit. That seemed a bit daft since they'd be seeing us at work on Monday. The sister and the auntie had by now accepted drinks and a seat on the settee. There was no rush to leave, they said. If we were peckish, there were canapés in the pantry (yes, they had a pantry). We pretty well ate the lot. Anything left over we took home for assorted weans and dogs.
Why does the Tory situation remind me of this? To this day, I've no idea what this couple were arguing about. The dispute had nothing at all to do with the rest of us. But like everyone else in that house we made the best of it. The only people I felt sorry for were the sister and the auntie, left to deal with the fallout from a fight between two pretty self-absorbed human beings.
The difference between them and the Tories was that we never let our friends off the hook. From that moment on, at the slightest sign of a disagreement between them, one of us would shout:
- Domestic! Take cover!
This all happened about 20 years ago. As far as I'm aware, they're still married. I can't see the same thing happening with the Tories. Brexit may be their Waterloo.
Here's hoping...
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