New Statesman - Neighbours from hell

Young David gets into a spot of bother, John learns a simile, and Tony cowers in the bushes, while Cherie needs some diagnostic help for her boy's education.

Scene 1: A flagship city academy in inner London. A new arrival pushes open the door to the sixth form. He is approached by a lanky kid.

Lanky Kid: Who are you?

New Boy: David Miliband.

Lanky Kid: Sound like a posh twat.

Miliband: Well, no, I'm just -

Lanky Kid: What are you doing here anyway?

Miliband: Er, well the school leaving age has been raised to 18 so I have to complete two more years of education.

Lanky Kid: Empty your pockets.

Miliband: What??

The lanky kid produces a knife and grabs Miliband's wallet and keys.

Lanky Kid [holding up a card]: What's this?

Miliband: My Labour party membership card.

Lanky Kid: Cheers. You can buy it back from me tomorrow.

Miliband: How much?

Lanky Kid: Tenner.

Miliband: It's not worth that much. How about 10p?

Lanky Kid: You what?

He floors Miliband with a punch to the head.

Scene 2: The Blairs' flat. Tony is examining the extradition rules for former heads of government arrested in non-EU countries. Miliband limps in, swathed in bandages and holding his phone.

Tony: Ah, David. Good first day?

Miliband: Fascinating. I got mugged at knifepoint and beaten up and when I went to the police station it was closed.

Tony: Why didn't you call 999?

Miliband: I'm still trying. They put me on hold. I've been listening to "Greensleeves" since yesterday.

Tony: Oh, well. Better luck tomorrow. Toodle-pip.

Miliband: I'm not going back.

Tony: Oh yes you are.

Miliband: I can't, Tony. Please don't make me.

Tony: All right, no need to cry. Here's what I'll do. Big secret, right? Cherie is home-schooling Leo. You can join them next door.

Scene 3: Cherie's classroom. Miliband has joined Leo and another pupil.

Cherie: OK, class. Look this way, please. Grammar and syntax today. Now who can define "simile" for me?

Leo: A figure of speech that uses explicit comparison for ornament or illustration.

Cherie: Good. An example?

Leo: Uncle Gordon's fat face wobbles like a big stupid jelly.

Cherie: Well done. Another example from the new boy?

Miliband: Tony Blair has transformed Britain, like Christ, only better.

Cherie: Excellent. And our remedial pupil?

John Prescott: Eh? No idea, love. Thick as two short planks, me.

Cherie: An excellent simile, John. Well done. Now, sums. Four times seven, anyone? Leo?

Leo: Mmm, I think it's, er . . .

Cherie: No hurry, darling. While you're working it out - John, could you tell me what's two plus three?

Prescott scratches his head.

Cherie: Think of it like this. Two secretaries are waiting for you in Admiralty Arch and three in Dorneywood. What does that make?

John Prescott: A bloody good weekend.

Cherie: Leo, tell John. Two plus three?

Leo: 70 million?

Cherie: It's five, darling. What's wrong?

Leo: Don't like sums. Can't do them.

Cherie: Tony! I think Leo's got a problem with numbers.

Scene 4: A week later. Cherie shows Tony a child psychologist's report on Leo.

Cherie: He's generally quite bright but he can barely count.

Tony: Oh, he'll get by. Never did me any harm.

Cherie: But he won't be able to work out tax dodges or compare prices on the internet or calculate discounts in the sales . . .

Tony: It's not that important.

Cherie: A life without shopping? You heartless bastard. I'm enrolling him in a private school right now.

Tony: But darling, what will I tell the press?

Cherie: Exactly what Ruth Kelly told them. He's "special needs".

Scene 5: A luxury private school. The Blair helicopter lands on the cricket pitch. Cherie steps out with Leo. Tony cowers inside and scans the bushes for cameramen.

Headteacher: Er, Mrs Blair, I got your call and -

Cherie: Hi there. Get his maths sorted, thanks. See you.

Headteacher: I'm afraid dyscalculia isn't a clinically recognised condition.

Cherie: Well it's high time it was. [Points to a child] I mean, what's that little boy got? He looks perfectly normal.

The headteacher beckons to the lad.

Headteacher: What's your name?

Boy: David Miliband.

Headteacher: You suffer from?

Miliband: Socially Avoidant Personality Disorder.

Headteacher: Really? Gosh, that's a long sentence, isn't it? Explain to the nice lady what it means.

Miliband: I'm shy.

Headteacher: Excellent. Run along.