UK Politics
Whatever happened to . . .? He got an ice pick
Published 26 March 2007
Brainy Ed ponders Gordon's image, Tony rewards Lord Andrew for his service, Sir Ranulph offers up a crampon, only for a dangerous weapon to emerge.
Scene 1: Gordon’s flat. Gordon and Ed Balls are brainstorming ideas for his image.
Gordon: What's the worst they're saying about me?
Balls: According to one focus group, you're the Victor Meldrew of politics.
Gordon: Is that bad? People love Victor Meldrew.
Balls: They love to hate him - not quite the same.
Gordon: But he's funny!
Balls: Only because he's old and grey and tight-fisted and boring and narrow-minded and out of date and he whinges constantly and he hates -
Gordon: All right, all right. What I need is someone cool to endorse me. Someone youthful and energetic. Like that band, the Partick Junkies, let's get them in here and do a photo-op.
Balls: Arctic Monkeys. They're on tour.
Gordon: Someone else. Someone big.
Balls: Tony Robinson keeps asking to help.
Gordon: He's Baldrick. A medieval dimwit with scurvy? There must be someone else. Who's my number one fan in showbiz?
Balls: Don't ask.
Gordon: Who -
Balls: Richard Wilson.
Scene 2: Lord Turnbull has been summoned to Tony's office. He arrives, peeping around fearfully in case Gordon's there. Tony rushes up to him.
Tony: Andrew! You marvellous, wonderful person! You're looking amazingly well. Can I get you anything? A peerage? Oops, you've already got one. How about a glass of champagne?
Turnbull: I'll stick to mineral water.
Tony [pours a glass of Perrier]: Excellent. There. Gosh, I could hug you.
Turnbull: Is that why you asked me here?
Tony: I just wanted to say thank you in person. Fantastic interview in the FT.
Turnbull: I was only speaking my mind.
Tony: You were speaking all of our minds, Andrew. Ruthless Stalinist - that's Gordon to a tee.
Turnbull: I wonder if I went too far. How's he taking it?
Tony: Oh, he hates it. It's hilarious. Tessa Jowell keeps asking him about his Five-Year Plan.
Turnbull: Crikey. She's got guts.
Tony: Not really. She's getting the boot anyway. Nothing to lose. Cabinet's never been so much fun.
Turnbull: Er, he's not around, is he?
Tony: He's with his diary secretary, purging your name from his Christmas card list. Want to pop next door and say hi?
Turnbull: No frigging way. Look, I've got an appointment -
Tony: Well, while you're here, is there anything I can do for you?
Turnbull: Like what?
Tony: You name it. Hey, what are your plans this summer? Why not join us at Bill Clinton's place? Cliff's coming. And Robin Gibb.
Turnbull: Possibly . . .
Tony: We're getting a little band together. Are you musical at all?
Turnbull: I'm tone-deaf.
Tony: Great. You're on lead guitar. What else would you like? Bottle of whisky? Downing Street coffee mug? Here. Take a copy of Cherie's new slimming book, In Place of Cellulite . . .
A knock at the door.
Scottish voice: Tony - ?
Turnbull: Cripes! It's Gordon!
Tony opens the door. Turnbull panics.
Tony: Calm down, Andrew. It's only John Reid. So, John. Guess who's come to say hel-. . . oh, he's behind the curtains. Andrew? Come out. It's perfectly safe.
Turnbull steps out, trembling. Reid gives him a hug.
Reid: Andrew! You're a genius!
Turnbull: Please. I don't want your thanks. Just get me out of here.
Tony: Let's take the back way.
Scene 3: The Rose Garden. Ed Balls introduces Ranulph Fiennes to Gordon.
Balls: And all you do is let Sir Ranulph help you abseil down the side of No 10. It's a great photo-op. Gordon conquers the north face of Downing Street.
Gordon: Are you mad? I can't abseil. I've got a dodgy eye.
Fiennes: Well, I've got no fingers. It's easy, come on. Let's strap you up.
Gordon: Get your crampons off me, you upper-class ponce. No way am I scrambling up and down some bloody wall. I'll ruin my suit. Anyway the cameras aren't here yet. We'll just pretend we did it before they arrived, OK?
Fiennes: That sounds rather devious.
Gordon: And your point is?
Tony steps into the garden with Turnbull.
Gordon: Hey, that's . . . Turnbull! You treacherous sod.
Turnbull: Gordon I'm . . . I'm so sorry.
Gordon: Too late! You lying maggot. Calling me a Stalinist -
Turnbull: No, please.
Gordon: I'll rip your fingernails out. I'll trampoline on your testicles. My God, if we had death camps in this country you'd be on your way right now.
He launches at Turnbull who flees behind the rhododendrons.
Turnbull: Help! Tony!
Tony: OK, Gordon. Simmer down.
Gordon: You're dead meat, Turnbull. Give me that.
He grabs Ranulph Fiennes's ice pick and flings it at Turnbull. It narrowly misses his head.
Turnbull: Jesus. Did you see that?
Nick Robinson [appearing with a camera crew]: Certainly did. We got the whole thing on tape. Cheers, Gordon. Make a great lead for the Six O'Clock. We'll play the Stranglers over the top. "Whatever happened to - Leon Trotsky? He got an ice pick - that made his ears burn . . ."
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