LITERATURE: What Iain said to Tess
Paul Baverstock, sitting on an upturned barrel outside CCO, told us this
It’s all true!
One day Brer Portilloite thought of how Brer Teapot had been cutting up his capers and bouncing around and a’ boasting about his standing in the polls, until, why, he'd come to believe that he was the boss of the whole gang! Brer Portilloite thought of a way to lay some bait for that uppity Brer Teapot.
He went to work and got some tar and mixed it with some turpentine. He fixed up a contraption that he called a May-Baby. When he finished making her, he put a straw hat on her head and sat the little thing in the middle of the road. Brer Portilloite, he lay off in the bushes to see what would happen.
Well, he didn't have to wait long either, 'cause by and by Brer Teapot came pacing down the road — lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity — just as sassy as a jaybird. Brer Portilloite, he lay low. Brer Teapot came prancing along until he saw the May-Baby, when all at once he hit the brakes on his Morgan, got out and then sat back on his hind legs like he was astonished. The May-Baby just sat there, she did, and Brer Portilloite, he lay low.
"Good morning!" says Brer Teapot, says he. "Nice weather we're having this morning," says he.
May-Baby didn't say a word, and Brer Portilloite, he lay low.
"How are you feeling this morning?" says Brer Teapot, says he.
Brer Portilloite, he winked his eye real slow and lay low and the May-Baby didn't say a thing.
"What is the matter with you then? Are you deaf?" says Brer Teapot, says he. "Cause if you are, I can holler louder", coughs he.
The May-Baby stayed still and Brer Portilloite, he lay low.
"You're stuck-up, that's what's wrong with you. You think you're too good to talk to me," says Brer Teapot, says he. "And I'm going to cure yeo, that's what I'm going to do", says he.
Brer Portilloite started to chuckle in his stomach, he did, but May-Baby didn't say a word.
"I'm going to teach you how to cough to respectable folks if it's my last act," says Brer Teapot, says he. "If you don't take off that hat and say ‘howdy!’ and ‘My oh my but thuh’s too many folk on that thar list!’, I'm going to bust you wide open," says he.
May-Baby stayed still and Brer Portilloite, he lay low.
Brer Teapot kept on asking her why she wouldn't talk and the May-Baby kept on saying nothing until Brer Teapot finally drew back his fist, he did, and blip — he hit the May-Baby on the jaw (and told Mike to tell Simon Walters he had done just this thing). But his fist stuck and he couldn't pull it loose. The tar held him. But May-Baby, she stayed still, and Brer Portilloite, he lay low.
"If you don't let me loose, I'm going to brief against you again," says Brer Teapot, says he, and with that he drew back his other fist and blap — he hit the May-Baby with the other hand and that one stuck fast too.
May-Baby she stayed still (though she was tempted to boast about how she had helped stop Brer Bazza from becoming chief executive, thinking that a smart thing to do), and Brer Portilloite, he lay low.
"Turn me loose, before I kick the natural stuffing out of you: I’m in a position of strength!," says Brer Teapot, says he, but the May-Baby just sat there.
She just held on and then Brer Teapot jumped her with both his feet. Brer Portilloite, he lay low. Then Brer Teapot yelled out that if that May-Baby didn't turn him loose, and do something about the Lib Dem unit, he was going to butt her crank-sided. Then he butted her and his head got stuck.
Brer Portilloite walked out from behind The Times and strolled over to Brer Teapot, looking as innocent as a mockingbird.
"Howdy, Brer Teapot," says Brer Portilloite, says he. "You look sort of stuck up this morning," says he. And he rolled on the ground and laughed and laughed until he couldn't laugh anymore.
By and by he said, "Well, I expect I got you this time, Brer Teapot," says he. "Maybe I don't, but I expect I do. You've been around here sassing after me a mighty long time, but now it's the end. Yore ‘ole core vote won’t save you this time”.
“And then”, Brer Portilloite went on, for it was a lengthy analysis, with slides, and everything, “you're always getting into something that's none of your business," says Brer Portilloite, says he. "Who asked you to come and strike up a conversation with this May-Baby? And who stuck you up the way you are? Nobody in the round world. You just jammed yourself into that May-Baby without waiting for an invitation," says Brer Portilloite, says he, for Brer Portilloite shure doesn’t believe in interfering unnecessarily in other people’s lives (though-he-is-fiscally-Brer-conservative). "There you are and there you'll stay until I fix up a brushpile and fire it up, cause I'm going to barbecue you today, for sure," says Brer Portilloite, says he, producing lots and lots of scrunched up articles by Dr Hames to use as kindling.
Then Brer Teapot started coughing somefin’ mighty humble.
"I don't care what you do with me, Brer Portilloite”, says he, "Just so you don't fling me in that briar patch, or write a leader telling the May-Baby that she has to quit to save the party from me”. “Roast me, Brer Portilloite”, says he, "But don't fling me in that briar patch (nor write those articles warning me that I daren’t sack the May-Baby".
"It's so much trouble to kindle a fire," says Brer Portilloite, says he, "that I expect I'd better hang you," says he. “Maybe with these pictures of you heyah applauding Ms. Mussolini?”
"Hang me just as high as you please, Brer Portilloite”, says Brer Teapot, says he, "but for the Lord's sake, don't fling me in that briar patch, or write all those things bumming the May-Baby" says he.
"I don't have any string", says Brer Portilloite, says he, "now I expect I had better drown you, with gallons of condescension for your terribly dated, and frankly provincial, petit-bourgeois views" says he.
"Drown me just as deep as you please, Brer Portilloite," says Brer Teapot, says he, "compare me to Rozza if you like, but please do not fling me in that briar patch (or remind me how clever the May-Baby’s nasty Brer party speech was" says he.
"There's no water near here," says Brer Portilloite, says he, "and now I reckon I'd better skin you," says he. “Yuh, just look at the people round you — Brer Woodentop! — I reckons skinnin’s what ya deserve”.
"Skin me Brer Portilloite," says he. "Snatch out my eyeballs, tear out my ears by the roots," says he, "remind me of all my really, really spazzy appointments in the past, but please, Brer Portilloite, don't fling me in that briar patch, or warn me how much the party would dislike me if I got rid of the hugely popular, talented and respected May-Baby" says he.
Of course, Brer Portilloite wanted to get Brer Teapot as bad as he could, so he caught him behind his legs and slung him right in the middle of the briar patch: praising that May-baby just as much as he could, and daring her to quit before conference. There was a considerable flutter when Brer Teapot struck the bushes, and Brer Portilloite hung round the Brer Tories to see what was going to happen (well what choice did poor Brer Portilloite have? no other party was willing to take him).
By and by he heard someone call his name and way up high in CCO he saw Brer Teapot sitting cross-legged on a chinquapin log smoothing the tar pitch off his bald bonce with a chip, and appointing Brer Yeo in the May-baby’s place. Then Brer Portilloite knew he had been tricked.
Brer Teapot hollered out, "Born and bred in the briar patch. I was born and bred in the grass roots!" And with that he skipped out just as lively as a cricket in the embers of a fire.
Iain Duncan Smith, August 7, 2003 12:33 AM