OH bloody Nora, now I’ve done it. I’ve stood by my principles and done meself out of a plum job as deputy Tory chairman. Mother’s going to go spare.
It were the peer pressure that did it, ’alf of it from proper actual peers. ‘We’re all voting for these amendments, Lee,’ says that Rees-Mogg, who’s right plummy, ‘won’t you join us?’ And a lad from Ashfield can’t say no to that.
But in’t cold light o’ day, now all that adrenalin from writing the resignation letter’s not coursing through me common Northern veins, ’appen I’ve made a right tit of meself by jacking in the top job.
Mother won’t have found out yet – news takes a while to travel to up North, if it makes it at all – but come Friday night she’ll be expecting my pay packet on the table and I’ll ’ave to tell ’er I jacked it in cause the posh lads said to.
She’ll go spare. ’Bad enough you’re working in that there London when there’s night shifts going up ‘ere, but now you’ve quit? No son of mine’s claiming the dole. We’ve got too much humble pride.’
And she won’t tek me wages from GB News. ‘Making a show of yourself,’ she calls it, and she’s not wrong. I sometimes reckon they’ve only got me on because I’m thick.
No, there’s no two ways about it – I’ll go to the boss and ask for my old job back. I’ll tell him honest Lee’s made a mistake, that he’ll be right good and faithful in future and if he needs anyone doing in, I’m yer man.
Shitting heck, there’s only another Rwanda vote later on. Well that’s set cat among t’pigeons and no mistake. Maybe I’ll hide in’t cupboard.
