The Players: Mark Ralph; Jane Stanford-Beale; Richard Willis; Rob Wilson;
The Scene: Four well-dressed politicans are standing in an empty car park.
'This Charming Man' is playing in the background on Hawaiian guitar.
It's taken me years of letter writing and hassling people to get this car park resurfaced.
Luxury. We used to have to get out of our paper bag at six o'clock in the morning, post angry letters to the council, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at Budgens for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
Well, of course, I had it tougher. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night to campaign for the car park to be resurfaced and lick it clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day painting parking spaces for sixpence for the last four years, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us with a rolled up copy of the Tory manifesto.
Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, spend two hours slagging off the BBC for my mate Rupert, work twenty-nine hours a day tarmacing t'road, and pay Budgens for permission to come to work, and when we got home, David Cameron would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.
Well Rob. You try and tell the voters of Reading that ..... they won't believe you. Like everything else you've claimed credit for.