After learning of Theresa May’s shock announcement yesterday that she wanted a General Election on 8 June, I wondered what had prompted it. I read somewhere that she’d only made up her mind about it over the Easter weekend, while on a walking holiday.
I was also wondering whether Kitten Heels might be a secret smoker like Barack Obama and David Cameron. What better way to enjoy a few gaspers with nobody noticing than on a long walk in the Peak District?
It was with these thoughts in mind that I re-read these lines in the essay I wrote on Easter Saturday:
If I’m surprised that more pubs haven’t closed, I’m equally surprised that the Conservatives haven’t used pub smoking bans as a very big stick with which to beat both the killjoys in the Labour party, and the killjoys in the Lib Dem party. Because 90% of Labour MPs, and 95% of Lib Dem MPs, voted for the indoor smoking ban. By contrast only about 30% of Conservative MPs did. I can imagine any number of jibes along the lines of “Vote Labour if you want to kill off the rest of the pubs and clubs in your constituency” or “Vote Labour if you want to destroy what’s left of British culture”.
Because, as far as I can see, and said so yesterday, that’s exactly what the Labour party of Jeremy Corbyn want to do. They want to completely destroy the entire culture, and replace it with something else.
And everything fell into place. It all added up. It was bleeding obvious. It was a simple matter of adding 1 and 2 and 3 together to make 123.
It goes like this:
Last Saturday, Theresa May had come home to her little rented cottage in the Peak District, a bit annoyed that she’d had to walk seven miles to find somewhere to enjoy a quiet smoke, all entirely thanks to Labour’s parliamentary killjoys. So she typed “Labour’s parliamentary killjoys” into her ipad while brewing up some tea, and found herself reading my little essay about them.
And as she read the bit about the “very big stick” she said, “By Jove, he’s right! There are about 10 million royally pissed-off smokers in Britain begging for someone to speak up for them. Nigel Farage has been doing it in a small way, but he’s not even an MP, let alone a Prime Minister like me. So why not make a strong bid for the smoker vote that’s currently going UKIP’s way, because nobody else wants their filthy votes? Why not offer them the same thing as UKIP does: smoking rooms in pubs? We’d win by a landslide!”
Within minutes, as she toasted scones over the cottage’s coal fire, she was on the encrypted blower to Anthony Fothergill-Sprote, one of her key political advisers. “What do you think, Tony?” she asked, after running the idea past him.
“Great idea,” he replied. “But why not go one step further than UKIP, and say that it should be up to pub landlords, not governments, to decide whether their pubs are smoking or non-smoking? After all, wasn’t that what Brexit was really all about: getting big government off people’s backs? You know, power to the people, and all that?”
“But what about all the antismoking bastards in the Department of Health and ASH and the WHO?” Theresa May asked, as she smeared butter on the charred, smoky scones. “They’ll have a fit, won’t they? They’ll say that we’re condemning millions of people to a slow lingering death.”
“Just ignore them. Or refer them the The Smokers’ Graveyard for all the deaths that smoking bans cause. Real deaths too. Like falling out of windows. Not just imaginary mathematical extrapolations, conjured out of thin air.”
Theresa May glanced up at the No Smoking sign fixed on the wall of the cottage’s tiny living room, as she ate the last of the hot, charred, buttered, jammy scones. She licked her fingers and reached for the Benson & Hedges pack in her handbag, trying to ignore the pictures of screaming, crucified children on it.
“You know what, Tony? You know what I’ve got a good mind to do? I’m going to announce this from behind the lectern outside 10, Downing Street, wearing my kitten heels…”
“And a gypsy outfit with a feather boa…” Tony interjected.
“…and light up a queen-sized B&H right then and there, in front of all the BBC and Channel 4 cameras,” Theresa May continued, as she climbed onto a chair to hang out of the living room window, light up her cigarette, and gaze down at the rose bush below. “And then blow smoke in their faces. Really stick it to them, with a cruel smile on my lips.”
I think something like this is what must have happened. Theresa May is, very daringly, going to make a bid for the smoker vote that Labour and the Lib Dems didn’t dare touch – in fact, couldn’t touch. This will win her a landslide victory.
It’s obvious really.
Don’t you think it’s bleeding obvious?