Hmmm… A naked dress! As Mr Moan, the founder of the British United National Kingdom Party (BUNK) was propelled across the lounge of their Mayfair Suite, Eva Brick, the former Russian Olympic shot put champion, made it obvious that the Uchi Mata inner-thigh throw was just the start of her anger.
“You want me to do what?!” she exclaimed as she straightened her Nova White Tatami outfit. She did not wait for his answer as she stared at page three of ‘The Sunday Times’ newspaper. “You are suggesting that I walk down Oxford Street naked?” She moved menacingly towards her partner.
“Eva, please” pleaded Mr Moan. “It’s a dress and it’s what women are talking about and think about all that publicity.”
She read out from the article. “It’s a collaboration between the French designer Gaultier and Lotta Volkova, the Russian stylist.” Eva’s interest seemed to improve. “It’s 80 per cent polymide and 20 per cent elastine, skintight, skin-toned and realistic in three dimensions.” She chuckled. “We better speak to our oligarch. It costs £515.”
Mr Moan risked his physical wellbeing and held Eva in a warm embrace.
“It’s more than that, Eva. It’s publicity for BUNK. Bear in mind it’s on page three of a Sunday newspaper. The pictures they show are of a journalist wearing the naked dress. Just look at the public reaction.” He kissed her forehead. “You are the most beautiful woman London has ever seen. You’ll be sensational.”
They sat down and Mr Moan started a delayed breakfast of sweet sesame tahini with pomigranates.
“A naked dress would certainly create interest,” swooned Eva, “but Mr Moanie, how does it help BUNK?”.
He put down his dish and picked up several sheets of paper.
Hand These Out
“Because you’ll be handing out these,” he exclaimed. She took one off her mentor and started to read out aloud.
“Horace, the naked truth.” Mr Moan had listed the many statements which the Prime Minister has made which were without credibility. “He’s going to depose 90,000 civil servants. Pure humbug,” yelled Mr Moan.
Eva was now pacing around their lounge and thinking deeply. She asked Mr Moan to hear her out.
“Mr Moan,” she said in a quiet voice, “when Horace caught Covid-19, it was said he was five foot nine inches tall and weighed seventeen and a half stone. I worked out that he had a body mass index (BMI) of thirty-six which is rather obese. He then vowed to diet and has poured millions of tax-payers money into measures to counter weight issues and the problems they cause the NHS.” She sat down and sighed. “Horace is now just as fat as he was and the obesity problems in this country are greater than ever.”
Mr Moan gazed affectionally at his partner. He went to ask a question but found her fingers over his lips.
“You, Mr Moan, are going to become the saviour of healthcare in this country by promoting measures to combat obesity. I’ll write the recipe books..”
“But how are we going to generate publicity for your brilliant idea, Eva?”
She leaped up and completed a barani back somersault with twist.
Naked Suit For Men
“I, Eva Brick, Mr Moanie, happen to know Lotta Volkova. I’ll organise for her to design a naked suit for men to wear. Then we’ll challenge Horace to put it on. The media will love it.”
“Will I have to wear one? “asked Mr Moan.
“Oh no, Mr Moanie, you’ll just be counting the votes for the BUNK party.”
“Yes,” he exclaimed. “It’s brilliant. Horace will refuse, of course, and all the focus will be on his cowardice.”
Eva was wandering around their lounge.
“I can’t wait to put on my naked dress,” she exclaimed.