A Lunch at the Ivy

It started as a bet. Piotr Mandelbrot and David (or Ed, who could tell?) Moribund were having a delightful lunch at The Ivy. A little too much rosé Cristal and Piotr began flirting with Ed (or David perhaps, Piotr wasn't sure). Moribund Major (or Minor, as you like it) began casting about for something to distract Mandelbrot.

'We are not popular, Piotr,' he ventured.

'How so?' Mandelbrot looked quite shocked.

'I think it's possible we have lost some of our core supporters.' Moribund (take your pick) licked his lower lip.

'Hampstead?!'

Mandelbrot's tongue emerged some distance from his letter-box mouth to avert any wastage of the Cristal. It was lovely, and a delightful shade of pink, the Cristal, that is. Luckily, he had restrained the cough sufficiently so that none of the precious fluid had reached the tablecloth.

'Piotr, really!' Moribund (mark 1 or 2, does it matter?) was less surprised than he ought to have been. 'Oldham East and Saddleworth.'

'Is that near Hartlepool? Dreadful place, obsessed with monkeys.'

'No, Piotr, that was your old seat. This is much worse.'

'Worse than Hartlepool?' Mandelbrot's eyebrows almost reached his improbable hairline.

'No, your eminence; a really popular fellow is in danger of losing the support of the local voters.'

'More popular than me? Surely not?'

'Your holiness, no-one has actually voted for you. You are Lord Mandelbrot now.'

'Yes, and don't you forget it, my boy. What does that mean exactly?'

'It means that you are an unelected... Never mind.It means we could lose a solid seat we have held since the beginning of the Great Experiment.'

'The Millenium Dome, you mean?'

'Not that, no. It's just that polls have shown that we could lose this seat!'

'Is it one of us?' Mandelbrot yawned.

'It's Philip Woolsack!' (your choice of) Moribund said in a hushed voice.

'Who? Was he the Gurkha man?'

'Yes, your unctuousness, he's at Borders and Immigration.'

'Can we deselect him? What were his expenses like?'

'Well he was the one with the tampons...'

'There we are then. More Cristal, my man!'

As the bottle arrived, so did the other Moribund. Let's call him number 2, although he might be number one.

'Ahh.. Lord Mandelbrot, howdedo? Hey Bruv! Wassup?'

'Nothing much, why are you talking like that?'

'Ah sorry, just done a sound-bite for Channel Five news. Mind if I join you? Thanks.'

Mandelbrot looked from Moribund to Moribund, wondering which was which. And how should he know? They were only government ministers.

'I was just saying to His Munificence, that we could lose Oldham East,' said One.

'Really, who is it? Is it one of us?' Two asked.

'It is Woolsack, the Gurkha man.' Mandelbrot declared. 'We're going to leak some more of his expenses, aren't we?'

One looked at Two in horror.

'Who shall we put up in the by-election, then?' One and two chorused, as twins sometimes do, although they weren't. Clones, a certain tabloid said.

Mandelbrot beamed; 'A Cockroach!'

'Are you mad?' Both voices were heard again, but perhaps that was more understandable.

'I bet we could win that seat with a Cockroach!' Mandelbrot sprayed a little saliva on the white cloth.

One, it must have been One, reacted first;

'I bet we can't,' his eyes gleamed.

'Just what do you want to bet?' Mandelbrot rapped.

'If the Cockroach wins, I'll resign.' One was smiling broadly now, Two's jaw had dropped very low indeed.

'And if, heaven forfend, I am actually wrong?'

'If the Cockroach doesn't get in, you can make me Prime Minister.'