a disloyal label
You may have already heard, but I was enjoying a moment’s repose in the Gladwell Arms last month, where I’d been taking a break from committee-watching for a snifter of port and a sideways glance through some specialty magazines.
‘Defected!’ came the cry over my shoulder, as Chuka Umunna hove into view. He had spied ‘4 Across: Label Lacking Loyalty’, for I was at that moment halfway through MixMag’s cryptic crossword. I could tell it was Umunna from the interjection alone, since his status as a shoulder-snoop is legendary across London.
His habit of shoulder-peeping resulted in one famous down-dressing from Nicholas Soames, when the former Member for Streatham guffawed at a Dear Deirdre the elder statesman had not yet finished reading. For one thing, the honourable Sir Nick is self-conscious about how long it takes him to read anything to do with the lower orders. A life of steamed shirts and brushed turbot means that to him, the world of the common man is very much a foreign country. On one occasion he is said to have been so distracted by one tv entertainment named Countdown, that he telegrammed the head of the armed forces requesting a six-point explainer on its rules.
Quite apart from all that, of course, Soames objected to the laughter itself. He’s always found Deirdre’s solutions decidedly empathetic, and most certainly not a fit subject for mirth.
and so on
‘I just did that myself earlier,’ Umunna chuffed, as I withdrew my mag from view.
‘Defected?’ said I.
‘The crossword!’ said he, as the Velcro scratch of chair-on-carpet rang through the snug, and he plonked himself to my opposite. He said he did not know me personally but friends etc etc. Had heard of my interests and very great insights etc. etc. Would love to gain my favour in critiquing an ongoing venture etc etc.
The interests in question pertained to Rave Review, a pseudonymous periodical I publish each quarter, collecting highbrow judgements from the discerning ranks of dance-crazed politicos.
