Reg seems to have got himself into a bit of a state about the alleged meeting between Gordon and Thatcher, and out of kindness, and after careful consideration, I decided to break another confidence and let you really know what happened that afternoon.
I was sitting in the garden at No 10, waiting for Gordon to join me in one of our occasional games of Happy Families – I usually win because most afternoons he is too stoned to tell the difference between any of the families, and I suspect that there maybe some incidence of incest in his family background.
Earlier than I had expected, he came staggering out of the back door, trying to aim a kick at the cat, wearing a Jefferson Airplane “Volunteers” tee-shirt and a lime-green sou’wester, laughing uncontrollably, pausing only to try to beat the record for peeing up the outside wall (the plaque, at an improbable thirteen feet above the ground says “B. Disraeli, first lord of the treasury, 16th October 1876).
“I thought Maggie was coming round this afternoon”, I said. “Oh, she’s inside”, he retorted, rubbing his sides in a theatrical attempt to show mirth. “She’s with a constituent of mine who I invited round to discuss her council tax arrears. Maggie thinks she is talking to Hazel Blears, and the constituent thinks she is talking to some sort of ombudsman. They’re getting along fine, because neither of them has ever listened to anyone else in their life. I’ll go back in later, slip some gin into Thatch’s Earl Grey, nod and grin a bit, and then go out and meet the press looking all serious, she probably won’t find the catshit that I slipped into her handbag ‘til she gets back home”.
“It’s a good job I’m here, isn’t it?” I inquired “You need to let your hair down sometimes, and the rest of the country thinks you are dour and serious.”
“Fuck ‘em” he riposted, doing a double somersault down the path and landing less than three inches from the goldfish pond that Ted Heath had installed. “I spent more than a decade pretending to support old slimy britches, and now I'm the boss I intend to do whatever the fuck I want.”
He then proceeded to tell me some of the schemes he had lined up to become law over the next eighteen months. I was shocked. I cannot give you any details, not because of my fear of betraying trust, but because I suspect that you would not believe me.