Gordon Brown Waits For Barack Obama To Call, And Waits
AS Davos and world’s other leaders convene to thank Gordon Brown for saving the planet, Tony Blair met with Barack Obama in Washington. We go live to an apartment in No. 10 Downing Street:
Ring.
Ring.
Ring!
Bangs fist down hard. The phone gives a light tinkle.
“If you had a Blackberry you wouldn’t need to sit by the phone.”
“He has a Blackberry. He showed it to me when we met. Very cool stuff, Sarah. Did I tell you about the time we met..?”
“Yes. About an hour ago, you said…”
“He was taller than I thought he’d be. But when we sat down we were the same height. If anything I was a bit taller. He-he. Things kind of balance themselves out, don’t they? Don’t they?”
“Yes, Gordon. They do.”
“Kind of balance themselves out”
“Yes Gordon.”
“Say it. They kind of balance themselves out.”
“They do kind of balance themselves out, Gordon.”
Stares at phone.
“Did you know Barry used to have a pet spider, like me?”
“But, you never…”
“Barry says he used to keep his in a box under his bed. A match box! Did you know Barry smokes Rothman’s Super Kings. Do you think I’d look good with a cigarette?”
Places pencil in mouth and hold up ceremonial claymore to see reflection in it.
“He smokes.”
“Who does?”
“He. The big He. He smokes. Or at least he says he used to. I bet they nipped out for smoke and a chat. Like me, Barry loves to chat. And the sea, we both love the sea.”
“Did I tell you about..?”
“Yes.”
“He talks about change but it is me who stands for change. Remember when house prices were soaring up and up and up? Now look. Change.”
“How many cars have you seen on the roads today, polluting the air? Not many. Those Chelsea tractors dropping the future enemies of the state at their schools. How many? How many?”
“Not many.”
Goes to window. Snow is falling. All is white.
“Change!”
“And small business, what about them? How many places on the high street are now ready for some embryonic Alan Sugar to move into and strike gold? Hundreds! Change.”
“And hope. Let us not forget, hope.”
Gordon looks at the phone.
He picks it up and places the receiver to his ear.
Whrrrrrrr.
He taps the button repeatedly. He blows down the line.
He places the receiver back on the hook.
At once the phone rings. He places his hand over the top to prevent Sarah from answering.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hullo.”
“Hey, Gords, you’ll never guess where I’ve been. And Cliff was there, too… ”
Sound of teeth slicing through tongue…
“I’m with Barry. I’ll put him on. Come on, Barry. Come and say ‘Hi’.”
Barry Obama, foir it is he:
“Who is it?”
“Gordon… Gordon Brown. ”
“You owe me.”
“Hey, Mr Brown, whassup?”
“Hesssheupthwpht”
Sound of sobbing. Phone goes dead…
Posted: 6th, February 2009 | In: Photojournalism, Politicians Comment | TrackBack | Permalink
