Peering out from the corner of the stage, Padchai surveyed the clientele. Mainly western, over 60, and all looking decidedly grabby. No matter how many times she saw it, there was always something eerily creepy about this many old men in brilliant white vests and multicoloured trainers. As the music switched from a fast paced beat to a slow bluesy rhythm, Padchai hunkered down into a small wicker chair just out of the crowd’s view. … [Read more...]

Episode 4:   Song: Say No Say no, say no No immigration, border is closed No, me say no, me say no, me say no, me say no, me say no-o No immigration, border is closed   No more soft touch from Great Britain No immigration, border is closed We’ll send you back to your Calais slums No immigration, border is closed   … [Read more...]

Episode 3: Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The clock at the front of hall beat out a slow steady tattoo. This was the last day of the United Liberation Party (ULP) conference and the place was still rammed to bursting point. For the moment, throngs of the converted were taking a moment of well-earned rest from all that cheering. The naysayers’ tongues were momentarily silenced. And even the fingers of the press were briefly still. The event had been quite a coup.  In fact, everyone – those who loved the party and those who loathed it – had remained equally on tenterhooks as each fresh nugget of common sense bounced round the room. … [Read more...]

Episode 2 “The problem with our mainstream image,” began Harry Ra’Basche, pacing the floor of the United Liberation Party’s communications room, whilst casting a casually inconspicuous glance into Sam's low-cut blue dress, “is that every time we make any headway with the popular press, some silly councillor I’ve barely heard of shoots his mouth off about hating women, loving Hitler, or wanting to beat up a Muslim, and that’s all they report for the next week.” “We need two things right now. One: an official list of what these local limelight-lovers can and cannot say. I mean seriously, no more bloody Hitler references. I don’t care how good he was at public speaking; and Two: a huge positive talking point – one that will run and run, that instigates the kind of debate other parties wouldn’t dare to, but one that the British public and press will take up like a beacon.” … [Read more...]

It’s been ten weeks since the first wave of victory flooded through the converted North London town house. It was from here that the triumphant ‘pint swilling gatecrasher at the Westminster toga party!’ speeches were written; and the emails demanding extra cash for the long campaign ahead were sent out again, and again, all bearing Harry Ra’Basche’s friendly grinning face and digital signature. Now, after the initial breaking roll of craziness, things were just beginning to level off and quieten down. The house stands on a slight dip in the eastern corner of Lonsdale Square. It’s a lofty, four storey gothic revival affair, built with grey bricks and overlooking the well-kept communal gardens. Located in the affluent area of Barnsbury, Islington. The building had once been owned by musician Dave Dee – of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich. But now it is the political headquarters of the United Liberation Party (ULP)… the newly crowned plain speaking, but noticeably MP-less, … [Read more...]

Morrissey stands in the dock accused of a heinous list of offences ranging from necromancy to crimes against planet Earth. The prosecution is led by Princess Mary-Beth Gigglenot, whilst a troop of bunny rabbits make up his defence. What really happened and will he be found guilty? Fluffy Bunnies Cannot Lie … [Read more...]