Belfast Telegraph

Friday 18 April 2014

'Everyone keeps telling me Boris Johnson's bumbling idiot routine is just that - a routine. I'm not so sure'

Woo-hoo! The Cooperman is back in the political field. I had lunch a couple of weeks ago with DC and Sam, and guess what? I get a call yesterday asking me to come into Tory HQ. I go in and have a meeting with a couple of head honchos who tell me that DC wants me on the election team as I have my " finger on the pulse of modern Britain". I am to be a special adviser on media and DC wants me to help put together their political broadcasts.

Let me tell you something. You're going to see political broadcasts like no other. I'm not going to pussyfoot around boring you with details - I'm going for the jugular. I can't wait to get going on these. I'm on a standby footing, waiting for Chairman Brown to call the election. I am the new Peter Mandelson... except I'm not gay and I'm cool. Looks like "Amy Winehouse: The Movie" has to go on hold, let's hope she doesn't croak for a year or so as I'd love to have a crack at it (excuse the pun).

I met Boris Johnson at the HQ. He was having a huge meeting for his London mayor campaign. I have to say that I don't see what the appeal is with him. He's a slob, and not good for the party image, but he does get the votes and that's the important thing. Everyone keeps telling me that the whole bumbling idiot routine is just that, a routine that's brilliantly thought through. I'm not so sure. I think that Boris could be a bit of a Chancy Gardener (the simpleton played by Peter Sellers in Being There). Nobody can be that moronic, surely? Only in the Yookay... Mind you, anyone who gets rid of Ken Livingstone gets my vote. Ken has started to become a bit of a Giuliani, except without any of Rudy's success. I think that he feels that he was born to the role of mayor and that nobody can take it away from him. I met him once, what an asshole. Boris - vote for the simple, fat man.

We go down to my in-laws, the Himmlers, for Victoria's father's 80th birthday. It's a big do and he's pulled out all the stops. I tell him about my new role in Tory HQ and he hugs me. I think he's a bit wasted but it's the first sign of affection he's ever given me. He immediately looks a bit embarrassed and wanders off to shout at the wine-waiter but it's kind of sweet. The old man had all the local dignitaries round plus a whole lot of old war buddies that he'd flattened some Asian country with.

Everyone got well oiled and were having a good time until Mrs Himmler appeared from upstairs. Nobody had noticed that she'd gone missing but she'd obviously been hitting the gin, big-time, in the washroom. Everybody had just sat down for the meal when she staggered in. Three places down from me was Harriet's boyfriend, Miles. He's some artist type who thinks that Harriet is "lovely" and they are as equally stupid as each other - they're a good match. Anyway, Miles is in a pinstripe suit, open-neck shirt with a neat ponytail tied up at the back. He's very "New Tory" looking and he's pretty harmless. Halfway through the starters Mrs Himmler wanders up behind him and starts nuzzling his neck and telling him that he's very attractive and that Harriet's a lucky lady. Everyone is totally embarrassed and Harriet starts shouting at her Mom. Mrs Himmler looks offended and starts screaming about how awful it is that anybody could think that she fancies her daughter's boyfriend, especially since he has long hair. Everyone tries to calm the situation down but she bursts into tears and runs out of the room. We all get back to the meal and try to pretend that nothing happened in that unique British way.

I start talking to Mr Himmler about his wartime experiences and he's just started explaining to me how he got into a knife fight with his Malaysian cook when the door bursts open and Mrs Himmler rolls in again. Everyone carries on talking, hoping that she won't make a scene. She goes up behind Miles and before anyone can do or say anything she cuts off his ponytail with a pair of scissors that she's carrying. She holds the ponytail up in her hand and shouts: "That's much better Miles, now you're my kind of fellow."

Everybody goes mental and she is escorted out of the room and upstairs by friends while both Miles and Harriet are in tears. Hugo, the equally mental brother, is laughing his ass off and Harriet goes for him and they have to be pulled apart. This family is the absolute, most insane bunch of people I have ever met. But I have to admit, it's never boring.

The next day, as we're driving back to London in the Quattroporte, Victoria and I can't stop laughing about the events of the night before. I tell her that Humboldt-Fog is lucky to have my genes as it'll dilute the madness a little. She actually agrees, we get on really well and we end up parking up in a lay-by and getting jiggy wid' it. I'd better be careful with this kind of behaviour from now on. The Tory enforcer guy warned me that I would now be a legitimate tabloid target. I don't care. Do your worst. I got nothing to hide. I'm a white, heterosexual superstar... I sound like that man Jim Davidson on Hell's Kitchen. Apparently he's a Tory... the future is ours... Cooper out.



scoopercooper@gmail.com; www.myspace.com/scoopercooper

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