The Importance of a Lift-Operative Explained

Deep into the worst recession in British history, it has been decided that the MPs’ lift in the Houses of Parliament is in desperate need of an operative, a button-pusher, someone to steady the ship to and from the upper echelons of power.
Have MPs fallen out of love with pressing buttons? Is the well documented post of lift-operative a telling sign that higher security measures will be implemented throughout Parliament in the future?
All of the quality papers have been discussing the possible reasons behind this job-opening, for which 8,000 applications have been received, yet none seem to have grasped any logical explanation.
Some say that MPs are fearful that people might just get in there, into the lift, and poison their floor number’s button, or all of the floor numbers, eradicating MPs from the planet with a lethal but sly dose of plutonium diwhatamate, normally effected once they pick a hairy, reddened nostril shufflling across to their office.
Others say that it’s an unfortunate tragedy of MPs that they generally can’t remember their own floor number, especially after a ‘biggie’, or a ‘whopper’, or a ‘goodie’, and that a member of staff specifically designated with the task of ‘instinctively knowing’ each MP’s floor number (as required in the job specification) could well prove crucial for purposes of timekeeping, therefore increasing the overall efficiency of the government, making tax-payers’ money count all the more and perhaps being instrumental in steering us out of a depression in the long-run.
There are those, too, who believe that the position has become available as a direct result of loutish media-intrusion. Countless MPs are harassed by generous media folk in the Houses of Parliament, and some have been known to cause upset to MPs after having suffered a lengthy bout of lunch, or a ‘biggie’, ‘whopper’ or ‘goodie’, hoping to catch them out, mike at a lapel in the lift, or just to see if they might take a bribe or a wrap of coke for their mistress.
MPs are normally in the throes of ‘going up for a doze’ at times such as these, therefore media-intrusion is seen as a direct threat to government policy at a time when the correct use of information is vital to national security. An MP must always be in full control of his faculties, unless, of course, he has suffered a ‘biggie’ or similar.
A small portion of pundits reckon that the whole thing is a political smokescreen to dispel the prospects of rising unemployment before the coming election.
It has to be said that a certain other few, mostly MPs and their secretaries, side with the view that the position needs filling as a matter of course and should never have been leaked.
The House of Lords stands firm in the belief that the presence of an operative in such a delicate environment could prove to be a hindrance, if not a risk, to national security, but, in a sensational twist, it has been rumoured that the Lords, too, have now asked for a lift-operative at their quarters.
In the case of the Lords, their reasoning behind this new position is simple.
Dementia is increasingly prevalent amongst Lords, and especially those with a background of ‘living it up’.
A lift-operative is seen as a human right for the Lords, who have been known to drift from office to office, up and down in the lift like a flurry of ghosts in a mental institution.
At £17,000 per annum, the humble post of lift-operative comes with a uniform.
Media commentators are keeping a close eye on the situation. Some are suggesting that the position of security guard should be considered to monitor the lift-operative’s movements, although closed circuit audiovisual monitoring is also rumoured to be a less dear option.
The fact remains that the position of lift-operative has become available in the Houses of Parliament for the first time in history.