Thursday, 21 May 2015

Laborious Labour ..

Down in the cellars of John Smith House where the smell of formaldehyde mixes with that of burning rubber from high voltage wires, as Labour's own Igor Murphy clinks jars together, peering myopically through his Uncle's eyes at the bits and pieces of the so recently eviscerated corpse of Scotch Labour he has felt were useful to save. Stored around the walls are parts of previous 'New' Labour monsters that had been rescued from previous disembowelments they had suffered in Scotland since 2007.  The brain of Henry McLiesh, the bald pate of John Smith, the glasses and nose of Donald Dewar, part of Wendy Alexander's back with her brother's knife still stuck in it, Joke McConnell's bent buttocks and in a tiny test tube the heart of Ian Gray - just visible to the naked eye. These were just the highlights of the make yourself a 'Scotch Labour Party' kit now in Igor Murphy's hands - as he rubbed all three together in expectation - all thumbs, no fingers.

Igor's face split into what many consider to be a grin but many others state is just him breaking wind, in fact his grin split so wide that Igor had to quickly stitch the split back up before the back of his head fell off. Igor looked through the collection of scalps and decided today he would be blonde; with a few snips, the grey of yesterday was gone and, with a neat running stitch, replaced with a Donald Trump special as he felt a 'Boris' was just a bit over the top.

Igor looked carefully over the catalogue of spare parts on offer, rejecting the few remnants of Keir Hardy or John Mclean left on the shelves. Manny Shinwell's hands and arms were thrown to the back of the bin along with Bevin (A)'s legs and Clement Atlee's bald head, Micheal Foot's feet went the same way, closely followed by Kinnock's mouth. Still Igor Murphy rummaged around the shelves and in the formaldehyde filled tin baths from the disused 'Steamie' seeking to find the bits his new creation needed to terrorise the stupid Scottish electorate back into submissiveness and bend them once more to Labour's all powerful will. His master, Dr Blair, expected no less and if Igor failed him again Igor would be looking for a new job, if he was lucky, or having the useful parts of him shared around the Igor family, if not. Igor's let nothing go to waste, after all, who knows when a spare pair of hands will come in useful.

The corpse of Scotch Labour was beyond repair, it had no spine and, as a result, its head was attached directly to its own arse. Igor knew he had to create distance between the two and a broomstick would not cut the mustard. He looked around for a replacement body, one of his previous masters had been a vampire, a Count Edward Ballockovitch, so he decided the place to start with was a virgin. Yet where to find one in the West of Scotland?

Realising the impossibility of the task, he advertised for an assistant and in the process found just the woman he needed, who it appeared was as good as virginal - at least in a political sense. She was extremely excited to be selected, saying to the Labour arranged press conference she had always wanted to be apprenticed to an Igor and what a knock out it was for her to be given this opportunity. Igor duly obliged and there she was strapped down on the gurney in front of him, frontal lobotomy completed and her brain stem genetically modified to hate the SNP on sight, smell or touch.  Igor her let her out under the close supervision of Bailey Bridget on Thursday lunch times to check progress and the Frankykiez seemed to be working as designed. More still needed to be done, ordinary folk had noticed she seemed to be a one trick pony and her Dad was clearly getting increasingly worried about his previously bright daughter's descent into zombie politics.

Igor was still not content, on occasions the Frankykiez still failed to reject the SNP out of hand, worse she even agreed with them once. More had to be done to perfect his new 'Scotch Labour' machine. There was a chap on the cellar door, the door creaked as only an Igor can make a door creak, and an undertaker from Kirkcaldy came in, who was known as the 'Wraith Rover' due to his travels all over Scotland for Igor. He had a cool box in his hands and announced he had obtained the human appendages Igor Murphy had been asking for, the special parts needed to complete Igor's new Labour masterpiece.

Igor Murphy rubbed his hands in glee and removed the body parts from their wrappings - his face split with what was presumed to be a grin (but could have been wind) and then he laughed the hollow, empty, spine chilling laugh of an Igor.

"Good," Igor lisped in best Igor style, "thisss will complete the Frankykeish and render her all powerful, new Labour will live again!", as he held up the great clunking fist of Gordon Brown and the rampaging eyebrows of Alisdair Darling.

No comments:

Post a Comment