Wrong Number

“Fancy lunch?” said Jordan.

“Yeah, you read my mind,” replied Alex.

“That’s not hard to do when you only ever think about one thing.”

“Oi,” retorted Alex as the phone rang, which he hurriedly answered.

A familiar voice spoke, “Hello Boris. Emergency tax meeting coming up at lunchtime today. Please come over as soon as you can.”

Alex paused for a few seconds, before the voice continued.

“I’ve got the wrong number haven’t I?”

Alex finally emerged from his shock and plucked up the courage to speak. “David Cameron?”

“Yes, it is indeed. It appears that your phone number is one digit or so short from that of the mayor of London’s. I’m ever so sorry to have bothered you.”

“Oh, that explains why someone was trying to sell me blond wigs the other day. Anyway, please don’t go. What is this about an emergency tax meeting?”

David Cameron laughed, “It’s nothing. It’s just a bit of a thing we have from time to time. How is the weather at your end sir, may I ask?”

“It’s raining pretty heavily at the moment. Almost as heavily as taxes seem to be falling upon us at the moment.”

David Cameron laughed nervously. “What a shame. It looks like our lovely, insightful conversation is about to be interrupted by our national anthem.”

Alex sighed as the familiar tune deafened him while it was played down the line. As soon as it had finished, he bellowed, “David?”

“Still here are you?”

“Of course I am. Once you’ve finished hiding behind the national anthem, there are a few things which I want you to clarify. All I want is to have a reasonable, honest discussion with you.”

“May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Alex Logan. One of your citizens.”

“Ah, I see. I do hope that you’re not one of our benefits claiming citizens?”

“No, I’m currently training to be a firefighter. I got 97% in my most recent exam.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. The only question I got wrong was on how to put out a fire, but I hope to get over that mistake through practice. Anyway Mr Cameron, I appreciate you taking an interest in my life, but what about this emergency tax meeting? I’ve now got a story I can sell to the papers.”

“Only The Sun will pick it up if you’re lucky,” sneered the prime minister.

“Actually I’m recording this conversation so I’ve got very good evidence.”

“The Sun will love it even more then.”

“True, but I’m not malicious in recording my phone conversations. I record all my phone calls because I like to keep them as memories.”

“Of all the wrong numbers I had to dial,” replied David Cameron with panic creeping into his voice. “Well in that case, I had better invite you over for lunch and we can talk about this further. I hope we can settle this in a more civilised way.”

“I’ll accept that.”

“Good. Just make sure you don’t talk about the European Union. It’s a sensitive subject. Anyway sir, I take it you know my address?”

“Of course. I can take the District line to your place can’t I?”

“The District what?”

“Never mind. I think I know how to get there.”

“Good.”

“One final thing. Don’t you usually have a secretary to make your phone calls for you?”

“I do indeed, but my secretary is currently on a lunch break, and this upcoming meeting is an emergency, so I needed to take matters forward by using the phone myself.”

Jordan called out, “Lunch is ready.”

“Sorry, I’ll have to miss out this time. Emergency tax meeting.”