“Uberisation,” yelled out the beautiful karate exponent.
Mr Moan, the founder of the British United National Kingdom Party (Bunk) fell off the settee as the former Russian Olympic shot put champion, Eva Brick, leaped up from underneath him. He was fleetingly annoyed because he had now lost his place in his latest paperback: ‘The Fear Index’ by Robert Harris. What had he just read?
‘He was remembering now why he did not like the rich: their self pity. Persecution was the common ground of their conversation, like sport or the weather was for everyone else. He despised them.’
Mr Moan looked across at his partner dazzled by her black and yellow Tatami Nova Jiu Jitsu outfit. He laughed out as he ruffled her short-cropped hair.
“Silly, Eva,” he chuckled, “the word is ‘urbanisation’, not ‘uberisation’.”
Mr Moan found himself looking up from the carpet as a consequence of a perfectly executed Ippon Seoi Nage. Eva held on to the One Arm Shoulder Throw and glared at her mentor.
Some Hunt Said It
“Mr Moanie, Eva is never wrong,” she advised. She pulled him to his feet and showed him an article from the newspaper. Together they read comments by the former Conservative Health Secretary, Jeremy Hunt, who was suggesting that patients’ lives are at risk because of the ‘uberisation of general practice.’
This was meant to refer to his belief that family doctors were like taxi drivers because the public have no clue as to which doctor they will see when they call the NHS.
Eva read aloud more of the article which stated that the Government had admitted that it will fail to fulfil a 2019 election pledge to recruit 6,000 more GPs by 2024 and that shortages have resulted in more than 800 practices shutting down over the past eight years.
“Mr Moanie,” cried out Eva. “When you are Prime Minister we must make sure that the BUNK Party fulfils all its election manifesto promises.”
“Why,?” asked Mr Moan.
Eva was now perfecting her traditional Russian handbalancing techniques. She backward flipped and faced her mentor. He placed his finger over her lips.
“Eva,” he said. We have discussed this before. There is a General Election every five years. The BUNK Party will be victorious because already the voting public are hypnotised by our pledge to remove all taxes and to generate the revenues we need from the wealthy top 1% of the population.”
“But Mr Moanie,” she cried. “What if you don’t achieve this objective?”
“Who will challenge us?” he asked.
“The Members of Parliament,” she suggested.
Horace Plays The MPs
“But you see the political scheming that Horace has perfected,” he said putting his hands around her face. “He plays the MPs to perfection. His great friend is time. Just think, Eva. The voter in each year spends, on average, 63% of their time at work. MPs, assuming they meet all their Westminster commitments, which many don’t, spend 29% of the year in London: many, of course, are in the House of Commons far less than this. They do have their constituency surgeries but these generate huge fees for the MP, including employing their partners and associates, and there are no checks on their availability.”
“Mr Moanie,” sighed Eva. “Are you sure? You are so clever but I worry…”
“Forget uberisation! Look at Partygate, Eva. Horace is running circles around the system and now it has gone on for so long with the Metropolitan police interviewing more and more people, the press and MPs are saying it should be relegated as a matter of importance.”
Eva sat down and frowned.
“Mr Moan, what about political integrity?”
The future Prime Minister had, however, allowed his thoughts to return to his Robert Harris paperback.
“Eva,” he said. “The rich suffer from self pity because of the persecution they feel.” He beamed. “I’ll make them feel welcome and warm. We’ll win the General Election and then have a change of heart over taxation. There must be more room for many additional peers in the House of Lords.”
Eva was now in her running shorts as she prepared to complete her daily ten miles sprint round Hyde Park.
“Oh Mr Moanie, you are so clever,” she said throwing her arms round his neck.