The Tony Blair Problem

Gold cherry

By The Other Terrence Oblong

Sat, 23 Jul 2016
  • 2733 reads
11 comments
 
I was woken early one morning by a hammering on my back door.
 
‘Who could that be?’ I wondered, as I dressed and rushed downstairs.
 
It was Alun.
 
“Why on Earth are you waking me at this hour?” I said, “You’d better have a good reason.”
 
“It’s Tony Blair, Jed,” Alun said. “An angry god has shrunk him in punishment for the Gulf War and he’s sitting in my top pocket.”
 
“Are you sure?” I said. It seemed unlikely. “After all, it’s quite a long time after the war and gods tend to be a bit more spontaneous. I can’t believe a god would wait for the Chilcot report to come out before issuing a curse.”
 
“It wasn’t the war that angered the god, Jed, but a recent TV interview in which Blair said that the war was gods’ will. The god was a bit pissed off by that comment and turned him into a two-inch high figure.”
 
“That’s all very well,” I said, “But what’s Tony Blair doing here?” Happy Island has never needed miniaturised warmongers before, and we certainly don’t need them now.
 
“He’s here about my advert, Jed,” Alun said.
 
“Your advert?”
 
Alun handed me the latest edition the Off-Mainlander Magazine. Alun likes to see himself as an entrepreneur and is frequently launching a new business venture, but what business could he have set up that would attract a tiny, cursed former leader of the Labour Party.
 
The advert was on the Weddings, Engagements and Announcements page, which Alun frequently used to advertise his ventures because the section was cheaper.  I soon found the ad: ‘Curses Removed, gods’ magic reversed, see Alun Davies, Happy Island.”
 
“So where is he, this tiny Tony?”
 
“He’s asleep Jed, in my top pocket. He found the journey from the mainland a bit overwhelming.”
 
“So what are we going to do with a sleeping, two-inch high Tony Blair?” 
 
“Eggs, Jed,” Alun said.
 
“Eggs?” I said.
 
“Yes, Jed. Eggs are known to remove the magic from curses, we need your dickens eggs.”
 
Never having approved of either chickens, or ducks eggs, I get my eggs from a cross-breed species first mentioned in Bleak House (hence the name). Luckily I had half a dozen in the house.
 
Alun took the sleeping former Prime Minister out of his pocket.
 
“What do I do with the eggs?” I said.
 
“Just crack them open over his head, Jed,” he said.
 
“Over his head!”
 
“Yes Jed, you can’t cure Tony Blair of a shrinking curse without breaking eggs you know.”
 
I cracked the first of the eggs over Mr Blair’s head. He woke up with a high-pitched scream and squawked for several minutes.
 
“What’s he saying?” I asked Alun, for Blair was so small, and his voice-box so shrunken and contorted, that I couldn’t make out his words, just a feeble squeak, like an offended mouse demanding more cheese, or possibly the same amount of cheese but cheese of a superior quality.
 
“I don’t know, Jed,” Alun said. “It sounded like ‘weapons of mass destruction, but I can’t be sure.”
 
“Well, he hasn’t grown back to full size, your magic-reversing eggs didn’t do much good.”
 
“You’ve only tried one egg, Jed, that was never going to be enough. Why, this is magic from a powerful god, a mighty curse. You need at least six eggs.”
 
I cracked the rest of the eggs over Tony’s head. He continued to squeak in protest, but there was no change in his condition.
 
“That didn’t work,” I said to Alun.
 
“No, but we’ve made an important step, Jed. I can feel the curse weakening Jed. We just need to smother the magic, and he’ll return to normal.”
 
“Smother the magic? How do you smother magic?”
 
“Flour, Jed.”
 
“Flour?”
 
“Yes Jed, flour confuses the magic. We simply coat Tony Blair liberally in flour and he’ll return to normal size.”
 
I took the flour out of my cupboard and we began to liberally fling clumps of it at Blair’s tiny form. He squeaked something in protest, but we ignored him. Thanks to the dickens eggs the flour stuck to him and soon he was completely laden in floury mess. However, for some reason this failed to remove the magic and he remained in his miniaturised form.
 
“It’s not working,” I said.
 
“Of course it’s not working, Jed, we’re only at stage two.”
 
“What’s stage three?”
 
“Tic tacs.”
 
“Tic tacs?”
 
“We get a box of tic tacs and flick them at him one at time.”
 
“But why?”
 
“Because magic spells aren’t protected against tic tacs.”
 
It seemed an unlikely method of repelling a curse, but Tony Blair was too tiny to resist, so we set about pinging tic tacs at his pathetic, post-curse form.
 
It didn’t work. Neither did anything else. We went through every type of magic-repellent Alun knew: flicking Tony Blair with a flannel, dropping him into an ice bucket, throwing him out of the window, we even forced him to listen to a Jeremy Corbyn speech, but none of our magic-repulsion attempts worked.
 
We eventually sent the bruised, abused, shaken, eggy, pocket-sized political irritant back to mainland where he came from.
 
“Well that was a complete waste of time,” I said.
 
“Waste of time Jed. That was the most fun I’ve had in years. I can’t wait to do it again.”
 
“Again.”
 
From his left-top pocket he removed the sleeping form of a miniaturised David Cameron.
 
Certificate 15
Story
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by seashore on

It takes a lot to make me smile at the moment but this did.  Was the misspelling of Chilcot intentional?  Just asking...

Submitted by The Other Terre... on

Thanks seashore, no chilcot was just a mispelling - you should see my failed attempts to spell codicote this week

 

Submitted by tcook on

It has to be, hasn't it? Another gem from the ever hilarious Other Oblong.

Join us on Facebook and Twitter to get a great reading recommendation every day.

Picture credit: http://tinyurl.com/hy7jn5b

Submitted by The Other Terre... on

Thanks Tony, this has been sitting in my notebook for a couple of weeks, as the last two weekends have been 100% pie party. Sorry it lost some of it's topicality, but then abusing tony blair will always be topical

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

made me laugh too - thank you the other!

 

Submitted by The Other Terre... on

Thanks insert

 

Submitted by celticman on

I'm a big fan of sympathetic magic, please send me one minaturied (or not) David Cameron so that I can cure him of his ills. 

 

Submitted by The Other Terre... on

On referendum day the UK pie party dressed our volunteers in politicians masks and charged people to pie the politician of their choice. Michael Gove and DOnald Trump were clear winners

 

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

I don't know if you visit our Facebook page the other? -  but you might like to pop over and reply to the lovely comments someone's left about this piece

 

Submitted by airyfairy on

Oh come on, I really want to know what Alun did to Cameron...

Wonderful as always.  An antidote to what seems like a month of sheer misery!

Submitted by Denzella on

Fanbloodytastic!  So funny.  Never read any of your stuff before but will try to from now on.

moya