A Tory guide to thrusting
The marriage in New York of the Cameroon chick-lit cutie Louise Bagshawe to the American rock band manager Peter Mensch confirmed the Metallica fan's status as the coolest Conservative (Mensch also manages Red Hot Chili Peppers and Muse). The Corby MP, 39, said she started stepping out with her man, now 58, in 2009 after she split with her first hubby and Mensch left his then wife. But it seems she also knew him back in 1995 when she published her debut bonkbuster, Career Girls, and in the foreword thanked Mensch "for taking me along for the ride".
Touchy chap, the minister for cops. Nick "A Right" Herbert is sulking after the usual rough interrogation for members of Her Majesty's Government at the annual Police Federation moan-fest. Particular exception was taken, I hear, to the charge that A Right Herbert was sweating like a suspect during the earbashing over a pay freeze. The word at the Home Office is that the delicate minister is threatening not to join next year's identity parade. What impertinence! No 10 says Cameron will make that call when he reshuffles the middle ranks.
Career Girls is, of course, fiction, in which a well-heeled Oxford blonde (Bagshawe, by coincidence, ticks all three boxes) has an affair with a music mogul (a further coincidence). The novelist gave a familiar name to a steamy chap: "Peter's tongue was flicking up and down her spine, his fingertips lightly tracing her ribcage, half tickling, half caressing." Peter? Another coincidence.
A Right Herbert should have followed the lead of Vernon Coaker, Labour's policing spokesman. The one-time deputy head teacher enjoyed a warm reception from the Police Federation. Or, more accurately, his father, a former inspector, did. Coaker turned the trip into Take Your Dad to Work Day in order to dodge tricky questions.
"Peter allowed his arm to drop round her, enjoying the feeling of her firm, full breasts." Oh dear.
Labour's one-time architecture tsar Stuart Lipton is causing chaos in the Tory Culture Department. The property bigwig wants the Broadgate office complex that he built in the City of London, then had to sell for a song to John Ritblat of British Land, to be listed. Rivals accuse Lipton of sour grapes. His crusade is certainly creating political casualties. John Penrose, the heritage minister, stepped aside because his wife is a director of Broadgate's owner. Penrose's comrade Ed Vaizey disqualified himself as Lipton's mate. Which leaves Jeremy Hunt, Secretary of State for Approving Rupert Murdoch's Takeover of BSkyB. Lipton's slim prospects might be better if he controlled four Tory national fan sheets.
"Peter began to thrust, in and out, pulling so far back he was almost . . ." Stop!
It's difficult to teach an old seadog new tricks. A snout mutters that Lord Prescott keeps ringing the parliamentary office he occupied while plain John, the deputy prime minister. "Oh bugger," he says to the posh Tory woman who answers the phone, "I suppose this will appear in a diary." Yep, that's how it works.
"Peter went rigid with pleasure, came, and relaxed on top of her." Enough!
Kevin Maguire is associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror