Sketches from Memory Blog

Just to let you all know, folks, there's a new(ish) blog dedicated to Sketches from Memory. You'll find some old favourites on there, but over the next few weeks I'll be posting some exclusive content transcribed directly from my not inconsiderably voluminous diaries. In the meantime, here's a hitherto unpublished extract...

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12th November, 1986

"This is bad, Mr President," defence secretary Caspar Weinberger says, decanting a generous shot of Jack Daniels into his morning coffee. "The United States cannot be seen to support terrorism."

"Whoa! Hold your horses there, Cas!" Reagan says, setting down his E.T. and Darth Vader action figures. "You're telling me those guys are terrorists? I thought they were fighting the Russkies for us."

"No, Mr President," I reply. "That's the Mujahideen."

"The Libyans?"

"No," state secretary George Shultz says. "We're fighting the Libyans, sir."

"What about the Argentinians?"

"That was the Brits, Mr President," chief of staff Don Regan says, flashing an awkward look in my direction.

"Four years ago," I mutter under my breath.

"The Iranians?"

"Israel, sir," Weinberger says, setting down his coffee cup in favour of the Jack Daniels bottle. "But that's kinda complicated..."

"Ah!" Reagan says, clicking his fingers. "You're talking about Mickey Hargitay! Oh, I never did like that guy."

"Nicaragua, sir," I reply through gritted teeth. "Yes, that is what we're talking about, Mr President."

"And these guys are fighting the Soviets-?"

"No, Mr President," attorney general Ed Meese sighs. "As we've already established, that's the Mujahideen."

"I thought you said that was the Russkies?"

"The Russians are the Soviets, sir."

"When did this happen?"

"Look, it's pretty straightforward, Mr President," Weinberger says wearily. "We're funding the Contras, a rebel group in Nicaragua, to fight the left-wing Sandinista government in that country with money we got from Israel by selling arms to Iran so they can get our people back from Hezbollah."

"What people, Cas?" Reagan asks, dipping into the bowl of jellybeans on his desk. "And who's this Des Bowler guy?"

Weinberger runs a hand through his hair as Shultz and Meese gesture that it's their turn with the bottle.

"He's the bad guy," I humour him, rolling my eyes in defeat, "and he's taken some of your people hostage. That's what this is all about, and that's why we're in deep shit right now. Okay?"

"Oh, I can't keep up with all this stuff, Rich!" Reagan says, now massacring the crew of the Millennium Falcon with a stapler and some paperclips. "Why can't it be like the old days when it was only the French to worry about?"

"Well, forgive me, Mr President," Meese belches, handing me the bottle of Jack, "the only way out of this mess is to prove to the American people you're not responsible."

"Well that shouldn't be difficult," I smirk, chugging the last of the bourbon.

"Gee, thanks, Rich!" Reagan replies cheerfully. As he starts to hum a particularly muscular rendition of "Let's Get Physical", we agree to convene at 9am the following day to set up a plan of action for Operation Get the President Off the Hook.

We stagger into the White House parking lot, where Meese offers me a lift in his Chrysler. Before I even strap myself in, he floors the gas and we accelerate towards the gate, narrowly avoiding a 1982 Buick coming in the opposite direction. The driver winds down his window to address us.

"Watch where you're going, you fucking lunatics!" National Security Council deputy-director Ollie North yells, waving his fist. "What do you think this is, Libya?!"

Meese hits the brakes and we skid to the side of the road, catching our breath as we watch North flip us the bird in the rear view mirror. I turn to Meese.

"Ed... Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Anchors Aweigh!

I can't say I was totally shocked by Boris Johnson's resignation earlier this week; if anything, I'm just surprised it took so long. After all, as one of Brexit's chief architects (alongside Michael Gove and David Davis, forming what we might safely refer to as "a confederacy of dunces") he has spent the last few months openly criticising Theresa May's "shilly-shallying" on the whole deal.

Of course, he and, to a lesser extent, his Eurosceptic chums were only brought into the cabinet to keep them in line so they couldn't overturn May's leadership. In reality, however, they've been in a position of power over May since she took over from David Cameron, forcing her to steer the ship in the direction of their choosing or else risk a mutiny. As it stands, May's plotted the course but seems fearful of leaving the dock, so it's quite possible that old salty seadog Johnson's going to rally his shipmates behind him and have her broken body swinging from the mizzenmast before long. Arrrr, me hearties! "Oh, a life on the ocean wave is better than going to sea... etc"

[Coughs]

Actually, let's drop the maritime analogy: it isn't big or clever. The point still stands, though. Johnson's made his position pretty clear, and he hasn't even delivered his resignation speech to the House yet.

But how do we know what he’s planning?

The key to working out Johnson’s next move lies in his resignation letter, handily published in every newspaper and online media platform in the UK. In one telling passage, after prattling on about the EU's inefficiency in protecting the safety of female cyclists, BoJo makes his own tortuous analogy to the PM's attitude towards taking on Brussels:

"It is as though we are sending our vanguard into battle with the white flags fluttering above them."

Seems pretty straightforward in its rabble-rousing, sub-Henry V rhetoric, doesn't it?

Older readers of WordJam, on the other hand, or perhaps those with a working knowledge of 20th century British political history, may experience a sense of déjà vu:

"It is rather like sending your opening batsmen to the crease, only for them to find, as the first balls are being bowled, that their bats have been broken before the game by the team captain."

When Home Secretary Geoffrey Howe delivered these words to Parliament in November 1990, they sent shock waves throughout the Conservative Party. Not only was Howe resigning from Margaret Thatcher's cabinet after 11 years' loyal service, he was sending a message to his fellow MPs that continuing to back the Prime Minister in the face of her - however unconsciously - 'sabotaging' negotiations over the EMU meant political suicide. Within a week, a motion of no confidence was passed and, rather than face disgrace, Thatcher stood down.

May's days are up, folks. It may take a week or a month, but Boris' endgame has come into play and all across Westminster cutlasses are being sharpened. Whatever happens now, just make sure the flag you choose to wave flies true.

Breaking news!

New telescope reveals evidence of alien life on the moon...

Little girl discovers fairies at the bottom of her garden...

 

 

Lincoln's ghost caught on camera...

Scientists release video of extra-terrestrial autopsy...

 

 

The British government announces two of its citizens are in a serious condition following exposure to a Novichok chemical agent that may or may not be linked to the Yulia and Sergei Skripal case.

 

 

* * * * * ADDENDUM * * * * *

 

Okay, okay - I'm being facetious: one wonders, though, if this second chapter in the increasingly ludicrous Salisbury case would've happened at all if England hadn't enjoyed such a rousing success against Colombia at the World Cup, or if the event itself hadn't started to dispel some of the blatant Russophobia May and her coven seem intent on whipping up at home and abroad to isolate Russia from the rest of Europe because...

 

Well, that's the question, isn't it?

 

Because we want to sell our military wares? Because Uncle Sam looks set to establish better relations with the Great Bear while our own "Special Relationship" with the Golden Eagle has hit the rocks? Because Europe needs someone to hate?

 

Your call, really. Whatever the reason, this is a cautionary tale. I think our old mate Goya put it best.

 

 

Onwards, folks. Let's stay away from the bullshit, yeah?