Lordy Lordy - Bob a job week

I was woken by an oafish boyscout bashing into my room shouting "Bob a job, sir."

"Ah, you must be the breakfast scout," I said. I should explain. Box, my valet, manservant, parliamentary secretary and breakfast chef, always coincides his annual holiday with the local scout group's bob a job week, as a ready source of replacement labour in his absence.

"I don't do breakfast, sir," he said. "I'm Albert, I just do shoes." He pointed to his shoe-shining badge. "Shine you shoes sir?"

"I'm Lord Lord," I said, "Not Sir Lord, so please address me correctly. And for your information I do not wear my shoes to bed, so no, I do not have any shoes to shine."

"That's a pound then, sir lord sir," he said, holding out his chubby paw.

"A pound? I thought it was bob a job, not pound a job."

"'Sinflation, a bob costs a pound now. I blame the government. I'll take my pound."

"But I don't have any shoes for you to shine."

"A pound for waking you. I do wake up calls and shoe shines."

"I didn't ask to be woken."

"'Course you didn't. You was asleep."

I gave the urchin a one-pound coin and he scuttled away. I dressed myself, fearing I'd end up with my trousers round my neck if I entrusted the task to Albert, and made my way downstairs.

I was accosted outside the kitchens by a second scout.  

"Clean your car, my lord," he said.

"I no longer have a car," I said. "I had to sell it to pay the gas bill, you've no idea how costly it is to run these old houses. If you want to earn your pound though, you can make me breakfast.  I'll have coffee, toast and a full set of toast adornments."

"I don't do coffee, my lord" the boy said, "Or toast, but I do do tea, crumpets and hot croissants."

"That will be fine," I said, at least he had the manners to address me as my lord. "I shall be in the drawing room, if you would bring me my breakfast tray."

No sooner was I seated than the scout arrived with my breakfast tray. "Your tea, my lord, crumpets, croissants and adornments."

"I see no adornments," I said.

"There," he said, pointing to the butter.

"That's not an adornment, that's butter."

"You adorn your croissant and crumpets with butter," he said. It was like arguing with Viscount Pernickety.

"Oh very well, here's your pound."

"That's five pounds owed in total my lord."

"Five pounds?"

"A pound for the tea, a pound for the crumpets, a pound for the croissants, a pound for the butter and a pound for the breakfast tray."

"But that's my breakfast tray. You're charging me a pound to use my own tray?"

"The pound is for the delivery of the breakfast by means of said tray," said the scout, sounding ever more like Viscount Pernickety by the second.

"Your name's not Pernickety by any chance is it?" I asked.

"No, I'm Scout," he said.

"How unusual. Do I call you scout Scout?" I said.

"Hardly, Lord Lord. Scout isn't a title, so the expression would be meaningless."

"Here's your five pounds. That's an impressive array of badges. What's that one?"

"It's my political analysis badge."

"Ah, that's more like it. Can I give you a pound to go through my parliamentary papers for the day?"

I busied myself with my five pound breakfast while my scout busied himself with my parliamentary affairs. 

"Well," I said a while later when I had done with my tray, "What awaits me in the mother of parliaments?"

"It's the Third Reading of the Prime Minister's Vanity Rail Project Bill," he said. "It's been bounced back to the other House three times now, so we have to pass it this time, although it's as unpopular as ever."

"Maybe I should introduce an amendment diverting the the track through the PM's back yard," I said. However, scout Scout failed to acknowledge my jest and instead looked very concerned.

"I would avoid any such amendment, my lord," he said. "Everybody's doing that, moving the route through a marginal constituency, or through a party donor's grounds, the PM is getting quite irate about it."

For a boy scout, Scout was exceedingly well versed in parliamentary gossip.This particular pound was proving of considerably better value than the one I spent hiring my own breakfast tray.

"So no amendments, then."

"I did draft one amendment you might table. The government is rather keen to get the Bill passed and would look favourably on any amendment that wins the support of wavering peers."

"Go on," I said, for young people should be encouraged.

"The amendment highlights the importance of ongoing scrutiny of the project by parliamentarians and proposes a fund to provide vehicular visitation means to those peers currently without personal motor carriage."

"It says what?"

"Free cars to any peer without transport."

"Excellent. That's ensured my vote."

"And the votes of Lord Benton, Scunthorpe and Westbrook amongst others."

"Good work Scout. With those three on board the government should be assured its majority. The PM will be delighted. Well here's your pound, I think you've earned it."

"Actually my lord, I think I've earned more than a pound," he said, taking the pound. "Putting you in the PM's good books, getting you a free car, with petrol and maintenance naturally."

"Naturally."

"I think you owe the troop a favour."

"You want me to cut the ribbon at your fete?" I said.

"No, we want you to write to the PM asking him to be guest of honour at our annual event."

"Oh very well," I said. "what is it, a jamboree?"

"No, it's our pie in the face fundraiser. Everyone donates money to push a pie in the guest of honour's face."

"You'll make a fortune, there isn't a man or woman alive who wouldn't want to push a pie in the PM's face, and that's just in the party. The PM won't thank me for it, but I guess you have gotten me a free car. Here's another pound, save a pie for me."