Things I Did Over the Weekend

I passed out with my face squished against a wall Friday night. This wouldn't have been an issue but I had the Union Flag painted on my face and according to my friend Sandra, her wall paper is very expensive. I'm just thankful she hasn't yet seen what one of our mutual friends left in her flower pot.

On Saturday I purchased a novelty tie for someone I don't actually know. I had a choice of persons for whom to buy for but in the end a particular tie with a certain theme made the choice for me. I do hope this doesn't get me into trouble. This is all down to a dare/bet from a few months back and I keep putting it off.

I campaigned on the doorstep for my local Cllr and the AV referendum. Despite a hangover and a severe craving for Nandos I doorstepped for over an hour. I am such a good little Tory.
I do get some stick for wearing my heels out and about but there's no need to lower standards.

Obviously more interesting things happened around the world than they did to me. We've had a royal wedding, the death of Osama Bin Laden, Chris Huhne is having a breakdown and in the constituency a new Vegetable Chess Champion has been crowned. Crazy times...

"Bunch of sycophantic arse-kissers"

I didn't see them but the boss tells me that there were MPs queuing up to get in the chamber before 10am. "Bunch of sycophantic arse-kissers" as he like to call them. 

He ambled his way over to the chamber at 11:20am. I received a text shortly after: No seat. Standing like a tit. I was tempted to text back and ask what kind of freaky tits had he been looking a recently but couldn't be bothered.

Any plans that I might have had for this evening went via the u-bend at around 7pm. The TUC were having a NHS or some such reception and the boss wanted me in there. Man alive was I bored! When it became clear that despite my shy smile and nervous air, I was in fact a baby eating Tory it went somewhat down hill.

I am never very good at anything undercover. I have a tendency to say things like "Yes but you're a socialist and therefore have no concept of ownership or responsibility." They don't like that.

Everyone remembers that scene from Fawlty Towers when he attacks the car with the tree, yes? If not then you're either far too young and you should be revising for an exam or you've been living under a rock...in Mongolia.

Anyway, those that know what I mean when I say that I went 'totally Basil Fawlty' on a photocopier this afternoon. The buggering thing chose to break just after 6:30pm when I needed it most. If any dear readers witnessed a woman beating a machine with what looked like a stack of fuel duty lobby letters, than that was me.

I'm writing this on the train home, squeezed into my seat by a giant man in headphones. He is wearing a Baywatch t-shirt. I feel very uncomfortable.

I am considering breaking my own rule of 'only heels at work'. When you're walking down the principle floor corridor at 10pm shoeless then it's time to admit there's a problem. Thankfully there were very few people about to see me.

I looked a state. A small state which is no bad thing but still a state.

Goodnight.

Gymnastics, Cuts and Blinky

“Never violate the bosses diary or I will break your fingers!”

Now some will say this is not the way to speak to a work colleague but I would argue that the intern is not a colleague but rather a part time pet in the office. A pet which must find its own food and should it anger a bigger animal i.e. a policeman or MP, fend for its self. Sadly, should the pet make a constant mess and endless noise, it can't be put down. I’ve had that confirmed by IPSA by the way: we’re not allowed to put down interns.

As I tweeted earlier, I realised half way through the day that I had mismatched stockings on. Only with a trained eye or a hand on each calf would someone be able to tell the difference but that’s not the point. I knew there was a difference and they had to be changed. This resulted in me attempting to change in the office. When it became clear that my bare leg was a little too much for the chaps I made my way to the ladies. 

Sadly I attempted this journey with one shoe undone and only one clasp holding an under garment in place. Suddenly losing your footing and shoe then subsequently hitting the deck is not a manoeuvre one can pull off at the best of times. Doing it while trying to keep yourself covered in front of a large group of mostly elderly visitors is a humiliation I wouldn’t wish on even (Sally Bercow) the most irritating Labour activist! This whole incident might explain the strange looks I was getting from David Guake at one point today. Were you there David? Answers on a post card.

I had considered watching Treasury Qs from the gallery this afternoon just so I could get out of the office. Normally when the feeling of imprisonment starts to set in, I go to the bar but it’s still a week till pay day and I don’t have the coinage. Instead I stayed at my desk and shouted obscenities with the boss whenever Balls spoke.

We had a constituent write to tell us that the Coalition Government was 'slashing this country's throat' over cuts. How we marveled at the pun! Finally, after a great deal of sniggering, we included the following in our response:

Rather than slitting this country’s throat, I believe the Government is performing life-saving emergency surgery to save Great Britain from flatlining on the economic operating table. With surgeon-like precision the Chancellor will be seeking to ensure that this operation is as painless as possible.

I’m not sure what I’m looking forward to more on Wednesday: the Budget or the protests outside. I’m to stay and ‘assist’ the boss until late tomorrow evening so if there are any protesters looking to throw bottles and stones at me again like last time then they should be warned. I probably won’t be sober.

"We've gone on holiday by mistake!"

We're heading to Cardiff tomorrow (Friday) and I've been set on Go Felicity, go! since the break of dawn. It's been a long day and I'm writing this at my desk. It's still sticky from where I dropped my coffee. Thankfully it went over the keyboard and paperwork rather than my dress.

No drunk MPs today. Quite the opposite in fact with the boss declaring a dry spell until he reaches sunny Wales. I can only take him at his word of course. For all I know he was necking something from the drinks cabinet when no one was looking. It wouldn't be the first time...

I will endeavour to get some gossip or stories from conference but I worry it will just end up like last year. I was either drunk, hungover or drunk with a hangover. Brighton is a very hilly place to visit and I didn't take any flats. It was sheer effing torture.

I would be tempted to dump the boss and do my own thing but if we team up we both win. He has someone young and attractive (if I do say so myself) with him making sure he sticks to the plan and I have someone paying for my drinks for the whole weekend. At £10 for a G&T that sounds like a good plan.

Dear readers, I will love you and leave you now. Feel free to email, comment or tweet me if you're in Wales or if you have anything juicy. I may even post pics if I am sent them.

I'll be the blonde at the bar...

A Day of Near Misses

Today was a day of near misses. I nearly got knocked down by a black cab outside Charing Cross station just before lunch and then I was nearly knocked down by Nicholas Soames outside a committee room. Bulldozer in human form that man.

Heels are not ideal when running about London and even less so on the wet cobblestones that make up the front of the Palace. I could wear trainers when I'm darting about but then how will the old boys know when to look about for a perve if they can't hear the tip tap of a lady's shoes? As my dear old granny used to say "underwear comes and goes but you must never be without heels and a pearl necklace, Felicity dear." Both this statement and the accompanying wink confused my eleven year old self but by heck the old bird was right!

I managed to spend a precious few hours in the office today. The only highlight was when someone tried to unlock the door (which wasn't locked) without knocking. The posties tend to knock but every now and then some rude so and so just walks in. I leapt for the door in a hope of catching the git only to be greeted by a confused and swaying MP.

"Who are you?"

"Felicity. Who are you?"

"Is this my office?"

"Almost 100% sure it isn't. Unless this is you." I pointed to the name on the door.

"S'not me. Cocking hell I must be on the wrong floor..." And with that he stumbled away. 

I didn't recognise him right away but I can confirm that he wasn't a member of either of the two major parties. Nice to know it's not just my boss who suffers from 'Long-Lunchitis.'

Toodles

Bricks, Cash and Hookers

Hello dear readers. Another week stretches out before us like a stretchy outy thing.

The highlight of the day for me, in terms of activity in the chamber was Education Minister John Hayes saying he had 'laid many bricks' at Lewisham College and 'without any great skill'. It was nice to hear so many MPs chuckling away with the same toilet humour I enjoy. Of course nothing is ever going to beat 'Accidental C**t Day'.

I walked past Bill Cash and Graham Brady complaining about lawyers at the top of the escalators in PCH and was about to whisper “sound” under my breath when my heel twisted and I very nearly collided with the chairman of the 1922 committee. Damn tiled floors! Why couldn’t they cover all of the atrium in green carpet like the House of Commons? Yes, the carpet fibers clump together to form large rolling balls of green yuck but the chance of breaking one’s ankle is seriously reduced! I managed to right myself and trot away without losing too much face.

Some will say that three inch heels are not ideal for a working environment but as my dear old gran used to say “If you’ve got it, flaunt it. If you haven’t, find someone who does and flaunt them.” It may be this outlook that resulted in her being arrested as a brothel madam during the war. Dear granny, a business woman and free marketeer till the very end.