THE COLUMNIST
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	Episode II
	Episode 111
	Episode IV
	Episode V
	Episode VI
	Episode VII
	Episode VIII & 1X
	Episode X
	Episode X1
	History of King Tony
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KING TONY

Episode X1

Time today for another helping of the long-lost Shakespearean play “The History of King Tony” or “New Labour’s Lost, Love”, which chronicles Tony Blair’s progress in modern Britain. In the last episode, which I brought you, we saw King Tony face the loss of his court favourite, Sir Peter Mandelson, and worse is to come before it gets better.

   

The scene is a beach in the Isles of the Seychelles. Enter King Tony, Queen Cherie and sundry bodyguards, all attired in swimming costumes, some of them bulging with pistols and mobile phones.

King Tony: Alone at last, my Queen! Here on this beach
Let’s put off state affairs and take our ease!
Untimely hot the weather is for Christmas
- I have not dressed so scantily before
In December’s late and festively frosty days!

Queen: You must not overdo it, good my Lord.
The Tuscan tan that you acquired last summer
Has faded with the months, and left you pale,
So do not rush to get it back again -
I will not have you looking pink and peeled,
Like cloves of garlic from the dear old River Cafe!
Have you put on your cream and general sun block?

Bodyguard: He has, my queen. I rubbed it on just now
Before you did arrive here on the beach.

Queen: Did you indeed? Then ne’er do that again!
Oh, never must you touch the body of the king!

King Tony:: Come, come, my dear - what do you mean to say?
Art jealous of a lowly bodyguard?
Thinkst his touch more lovely than thine own?

Queen: I know not, neither do I care a jot.
One thing alone I know: the undergrowth is full
Of men with cameras seeking candid shots,
Wild-eyed papparazzi after their big break.
If they should spy your royal majesty
Being touched by anyone on earth ‘cept me,
I see the caption now: “King Tony’s boyfriend,
Seen rubbing his brown torso in the sun!”

King Tony: I cannot credit what my ears do hear!
How can you say that I might be a gay!
Am I not all a proper man might be?
Thou hast been in the royal bed with me!
Thou hast given birth to sons of ours!

Queen: I know it all, but this as well I know
- That if the public sees thee in a doubtful pose,
They’ll never hesitate to pull thee down.
A tiny breath of scandal grows and grows.
Once open wide, the door is hard to close.

King Tony: Come, come, dear wife - ‘tis no way to behave.
We have before us sun and sand and wave,
And a pre-chilled bottle of fine Chardonnay.
Is this not a very perfect Christmas day?

Queen: If Duke Prescott were but with us now,
He’d blame this sunny day on global warming,
And cast a general blight on all our party.

King Tony: You do him wrong. Old John is good at heart
But at his happiest when he is complaining.
I love to see old Prescott’s eyebrows quaking
To presage some new storm that threatens breaking
Not for him the joys of quiet home-making,
But those of railing, roaring and fist-shaking!

Queen: Then best make sure he shakes it not at thee...

There comes a strange ringing sound

Bodyguard: My lord, you’re wanted on the mobile phone.

King Tony: Ask who it is. I am off duty now.

Bodyguard: Earl Dobson, sire.

King Tony: My chief of hospitals?
What can my Lord of Dobson want on Christmas Day?

Bodyguard: A bed, it seems.

King Tony: A BED! He wants a BED?
He rings me on my hols to ask a bed?
Has he gone mad or is he truly homeless?

Bodyguard: Tis not for him, but for the poor and sick.
A bug there is abroad in England nowadays,
Known as the Sydney Flu, come from Down Under,
Which knocks out everyone who catches it
And puts them straight to bed. But Dobson says
There are not beds enow. Or doctors either.
And all the nurses are ill-paid as well.

King Tony: Oh, what a bearded misery is he!
God save me from such wailing willies!
Let me have men about me who are tough!

Queen: You had them once, like Mandelson
And Robinson, but not quite tough enough.

King Tony: Is there no other way than these two ways?
Between the weeping way of bleeding hearts
And the hard-hearted path of real life
Is there no other way for us to take?

Queen: You say there is. The third way, is it not?
I seem to recall that this has passed your lips
Occasionally, from time to time, sometimes...
Or every half hour in the last two years!
The third way has grown rancid in my ears!
Come on! Own up! There’s really no such thing!
The third way is the fancy of a king!

Morosely, the King and Queen and bodyguards leave the beach and go back to the hotel. Seconds later, Iraqi jets strafe the beach, just too late. When peace returns, Duke Ken of Livingstone steps from behind a palm tree.

Livingstone: This life of Riley is all right for some,
But till I am Mayor of London, I’ll keep dumb.
Meanwhile, remember this - the pest is yet to come!

The Independent Jan 12 1999