DAVID CAMERON’S PLEASE BUY MY BOOK BLOG
As told to Matt Owen
People say to me “You know, David…”, and you know what, I have to stop them right there. I stop them right there and tell them to their face “There’s no need to call me ‘David’, call me Dave”. Because I like to think of myself as everyone’s friend: my next door neighbour; my the Missus Wife; the man who walks his dog past my house every day; but not the 16,141,241 people who voted to Remain in 2016, who now face 50 years of eating dog food and shitting in a bucket.
I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’ve just written a book. It’s a book full of words, some of them quite long, and some of them not quite so long. There are also pages with no words on them. But that’s by the by. The book contains mainly words which make up sentences, all written by me (and another man called a “writer”). There are also some pictures so people who don’t like to read words, can look at pictures of me standing outside Number 10 with the Missus Wife and shaking hands with Michael Gove and pretending to like him.
My book is called For The Record. I had a big argument with the publisher about this. I wanted to call it For The CD, because my good friend Nicholas Soames, who’s “with it”, reckons no-one buys records anymore. I know they don’t sell them in Our Price for starters. In fact, come to think of it Our Price is now one of those tiny Waitrose around our way. On the one hand you can no longer buy a Barclay James Harvest cassette from the Bargain Bin, but you can buy a delicious prawn mayonnaise sandwich. So, it’s swings and roundabouts.
But I digress – back to the title of my book. The publisher assured me that For The Record wasn’t going to be about actual records, but my memoirs. That’s a shame, really, because there’s nothing I like more than listening to a good record, like the U2’s seminal album The Joshua Nkomo Tree which I used to play all the time in my “digs” when I was a student.
I can’t give too much away about the contents of the book (although, as I have already pointed out there will be plenty of words – many of them real crowd pleasers). There were the good times when myself and Jeremy Thorpe formed a historic, and useless coalition government (I think it was Jeremy Thorpe – he’s the only one I can think of). We made some very tough decisions, which involved me saying “tough” a lot in speeches. A lot of people have said that we took austerity too far, and I say “nonsense”. In my mind, we didn’t have enough of the austerity. We should have ordered more of the stuff and used it wisely.
I speak of the times when Boris Johnson and Michael Gove were good friends. Indeed, Boris and myself go back a long way – we both went to Cambridge University in Oxford (is this right, I can’t remember?). We were just another couple of rag-tag kids from the wrong side of Eton back then. Him with his mop of blonde hair and a sack full of Latin quotes, me with my screw you attitude and a poster of a tennis player scratching her bum on my bedroom wall. We didn’t know where the hell we were going, or what we were going to do to survive, but we knew we didn’t have to worry about anything because money.
Years later, Boris and I ended up in government – on the same side, you might say. But no. Not on the same side. In fact, very much not on the same side. I’m going to let you into a secret, or “our little secret”, as our housemaster Mr [REDACTED] used to tell us back in Eton. Boris has often in the past told fibs. In other words, he’s said one thing and done another thing. Some of these fibs have been titchy, small ones. And some of them have been very big fibs.
What I’m about to tell you is top secret and can never be shared with anyone (apart from all those people you wish to share this blog with). But when I announced there was going to be a referendum on leaving the EU (and this was before Nigel Farage had even invented the word Brexit) Boris called me and said, “I’m going to vote to remain in the EU”. In retrospect I think what he meant was “I’m a huge liar, and a massive shit to boot.”
If I were a lesser, bitter man, I’d perhaps let all this get to me. Admittedly it does help that I’m extremely rich and can bugger off somewhere that has running water and electricity after Brexit has landed. It also helps that I have my shed where I can get away from it all, put my feet up and switch Test Match Special on and have a snooze. Dooo…dooo…dooo….doooo….dooooo…..