Diary of an Unsmug Married (56 page)

I’m extremely grateful to my agent, Becky Thomas at Fox Mason, for always replying to me faster than the speed of sound, sometimes even in the middle of the night; and to my wonderful editor, LydiaVassar-Smith, for her many improvements to my original manuscript. Sincere thanks are also due to Claire Bord and the rest of the Avon team (both for their enthusiasm for the characters I created, and the care that they have taken in publishing my book), as well as to Jo and Sabah at Light Brigade, and Rhian McKay.

Last, but definitely not least, I owe members of my family, big-time: my mum, Jenny, and step-father, Dave, for their generosity in helping me try to realise my long-held but previously half-arsed dream of becoming a writer; and my husband and children, for the neglect they’ve suffered during the attempt.

Footnotes

Chapter One: May

fn1
ConDem Coalition: Government cobbled together, during seemingly endless back-room dealings between David ‘Call Me Dave’ Cameron (Conservative), and Nick Clegg (Liberal Democrat). Also known as ‘All Things To All Men Clegg’ according to The Boss, who is not Nick’s biggest fan.

fn2
Gordy: Greg’s and my name for Gordon Brown, also known as ‘that idiot’ if you listen to The Boss. Ex-Prime Minister (as of today) and ex-Chancellor of the Exchequer; and not exactly an asset during election campaigns.

fn3
Her Majesty’s Official Opposition: Usually the political party which wins the second-largest number of seats in a general election, and whose members sit opposite the governing party in the House of Commons. Don’t ask me to explain how the LibDems won far fewer seats than Labour and yet ended up helping to run the country. The Boss can’t get over
that
.

fn4
Senior caseworker: If you contact your MP about
anything
, it’ll be someone like me who decides what needs to be done, and then does it – while giving the MP all the credit and/or taking most of the blame. The ‘senior’ bit means handling the ‘complex’ cases. (Substitute ‘nightmare’ for ‘complex’ and you’ve got the picture.)

fn5
Furniture inspector: Three jobs in one, not that you’d think so from the salary. One minute Max is selling furniture, the next he’s hurtling round to a customer’s house to deal with a complaint, or to repair a faulty sofa. It’s probably the only job that involves crawling around on the floor wielding power tools while dressed in a suit. (Costs a fortune in dry-cleaning, too.)

fn6
ISP: For other computing incompetents like Dad, an ISP is an Internet Service Provider. If you don’t have one, it’s a bit like trying to use your phone when you haven’t signed up with a phone company, i.e. futile.

fn7
House: One way of referring to the House of Commons, which is by far the best place to keep MPs – as far as constituency staff are concerned.

fn8
The ‘wrong’ side of the Commons Chamber: The government sits on the benches to the right of the Speaker of the House of Commons, so when a party loses an election, they have to switch sides from right to left. The Boss isn’t enjoying being on the left half as much as his political views might suggest.

fn9
Portcullis House, also known as PCH: A fancy new building to house MPs and their staff, after they ran out of space in the Palace of Westminster. The Boss feels very cheated to have been allocated a ‘pathetically small’ office in PCH, and retains a fondness for the additional leg-room offered by his old office in the HOC. Some people are never satisfied.

fn10
HOC: Usual way staff refer to the House of Commons in writing, for example in diary entries, such as, ‘Boss to HOC today. TG.’ (TG stands for ‘thank God’, though The Boss is unaware of that.)

fn11
Question Time, also known as QT: Weekly BBC television programme in which various ministers and MPs debate the hot political issues of the day. Or not. Compulsory viewing for MPs’ staff, as all constituents watch it and want to discuss its high and low points the following morning. Usually forewarned is forearmed.

fn12
The Oprah room: The political equivalent of a green room, though ours is a shade of bilious yellow. (The Boss chose the paint, which proves he’s colour blind, as if you couldn’t already tell that from his hair.) It’s supposedly used for holding informal meetings with journalists, lobbyists and the occasional sane constituent. Supposedly.

fn13
Dave Blancmange Face: Connie’s name for David Cameron. What it lacks in respect for one’s elders, it makes up for in accuracy, or so Max claims.

fn14
IPSA: Independent Parliamentary Standards Authority, set up in the wake of the MPs’ expenses scandal, with the sole purpose of making life difficult, according to The Boss.

fn15
A&E: Accident and Emergency, the equivalent of a home-from-home for me, what with a colleague like Greg and a son like Josh.

fn16
Conference: The Labour Party Conference/bunfight/scene of some of The Boss’ worst social faux pas.

    

Chapter Two: June

fn1
PMQs: For those of you lucky enough to be uninitiated, this stands for Prime Minister’s Questions. Misleading, as the Prime Minister (PM) doesn’t get to ask any questions, other than rhetorical ones. Instead, his acolytes ask him prepared questions along the lines of, “Would the PM agree that he is the best thing to happen to the country since sliced bread?” while the opposition ask him the most awkward ones they can think of, in an often-successful effort to make him look stupid.

fn2
141: UK number to dial, prior to the rest of someone’s phone number, if you don’t want them to be able to identify yours. An absolutely vital service for those whose names are Greg or Josh.

fn3
DEFRA: Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. Also known as ‘the kiss of death to political ambition’ by Greg, who doesn’t believe anything much happens in the country, other than the chasing of foxes by ‘half-crazed posh people, wearing red coats’.

fn4
Deepwater oil spill: Disaster in the Gulf of Mexico, described by Johnny as “that massive cock-up”, but only off the record, of course. It started back in April, when the Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploded and then sank, killing eleven people, and gallons of oil are still gushing into the ocean now, in June.

fn5
GC: General Committee, regular meeting of local Labour Party big-hitters, to whom The Boss has to present his GC report, explaining what he’s been up to at Westminster. Usually drafted on a napkin from the buffet car during Andrew’s journey home on Thursday evenings, and then given to me to decipher, completely re-write to remove all references to jollies, and then pass to Party staff to print and disseminate at the start of the meeting.

fn6
CRB check: Vetting procedure carried out by the Criminal Records Bureau. Far too slowly, according to Greg, who has a problem with deferred gratification of any kind.

fn7
PPE: Politics, Philosophy and Economics. De rigueur combination for would-be politicians, in these days of professional MPs. Or so Greg says.

fn8
ABH: Actual Bodily Harm. Does what it says on the tin.

    

Chapter Three: July

fn1
Chief Whip: Not what you may be thinking, having read tabloid reports into the sexual proclivities of some MPs, but the person responsible for Party discipline. Also known as ‘the enforcer’ by The Boss.

fn2
Recess: Summer Recess is when constituency staff are most likely to become suicidal. This is not the obverse of Seasonal Affective Disorder, but is directly linked to the fact that Parliament takes a long break in the summer, during which time MPs tend to spend more time in their constituencies.

fn3
Extreme hoovering is an actual sport, believe it or not. I do – now – because Josh made me look at endless video evidence on YouTube. It’s still madness, though.

fn4
WriteToThem.com
: Website which documents the time MPs’ office staff take to respond to constituents’ enquiries. It makes no allowance for traumatic incidents, or whether the enquiries are insane or not.

fn5
County Hall: Home of the now-defunct GLC (Greater London Council), where The Boss’ hero, Ken Livingstone, held sway. Now home to various attractions, including an aquarium (maybe as a nod to Ken’s fondness for newts), and the five-star Marriott Hotel. Oh, and a Premier Inn. Maybe I should suggest that to Johnny. Let him see how the other half lives.

    

Chapter Four: August

fn1
1471: UK telephone number to phone in order to identify the last person to call you. Mum uses it a lot, as the voicemail revolution has apparently passed her by.

fn2
Cherchez la femme: Literally, ‘Look for the woman’ in French. Difficult to know which woman, though, when so many of them seem to find Andrew irresistible. Somewhat inexplicably, unless painted-on hair is a fetish now.

fn3
30 Berlusconi: Silvio Berlusconi, ex-Prime Minister of Italy (on several occasions), with what has been described as a ‘waxing and waning hairline’, which may or may not owe its appearance to the use of a coloured spray to fill in gaps. Also known as The Boss’ ‘guru of style’ by Greg.

fn4
Neet: Not in Education, Employment or Training, i.e. a total write-off. (According to Greg. Oh, and Connie.)

fn5
CSA: Child Support Agency, responsible for gathering money owed as maintenance (or alimony). Even less effective than certain MPs, according to some constituents. Too effective, according to others.

    

Chapter Five: September

fn1
The Thai for ‘bring me my slippers’ is, according to Google Translate,
or, read phonetically: ’Nǎ rxngthêã tæa k hxng c
c
.’

Other books

Out of Touch by Clara Ward
Too Hot to Handle by Aleah Barley
Poles Apart by Terry Fallis
The Furies: A Novel by Natalie Haynes
Conscience of a Conservative by Barry Goldwater
Seducing His Opposition by Katherine Garbera