MARK STEYN: What the butler saw

The Daily Telegraph ^ | November 9, 2002 | Mark Steyn

[MadIvan]

Exclusive! The butler everyone's talking about opens his heart to the Telegraph!

My story by Paul Burble, the last butler to the Conservative Party in those final desperate months before it cracked up, threw away its seat belt and flipped over.

I, Paul Burble, entered the service of the Rt Hon Iain Duncan Smith at the time he became leader of the Conservative Party and I remained by his side all the way to the bitter end, four days later. Sobbing in a dignified manner, I stood vigil over the coffin, with which Central Office thoughtfully provides each incoming leader.

I'll never forget our first meeting. He'd just taken over, and there was an instant bond between us. "This is a very important position," said Mr Duncan Smith. "It requires someone of impeccable discretion who understands that, if you're doing the job properly, people are barely aware of your presence, you're almost invisible, part of the wallpaper."

"Yes, but enough about your job," I said. "What do you expect from a butler?"

As his closest confidant, I helped the young master cope with the tragic break-up of his party and his increasingly frantic attempts to sustain relationships with men. There was the flamboyant Eurotrash playboy Ken, the exotic Mediterranean heart specialist Michael…

"Ken's been in the bathroom an awfully long time," said the master. "Do you think he's a cocaine addict?" But, after crawling through the ventilator shaft and pressing my ear up to the grille, I was able to reassure the poor distraught creature that Ken was merely giving a long phone interview to Radio Berwick on whether the master would last the week.

With Michael it was different. He was a young dynamic surgeon famous as the first Thatcherite to open himself up and install a new heart. One night the master happened to drop by the hospital as Michael was performing a particularly intricate operation.

"Scalpel," he said.
"Scalpel."
"Clamp."
"Clamp."
"The Liza on Broadway double CD."
"What's going on?" the master asked.

"It's just a routine procedure," explained Dr Michael. "We're operating on Norman to give him the gay gene."

"Get off me, you dago poof!" yelled the patient, but fortunately the anaesthetist was already increasing the dosage.

I could see the master was intrigued, but how far was he prepared to go? Night after night, I was called upon to smuggle Michael, Ken and dozens of other young men out in the boot of my car to the BBC. "Doesn't anybody want to be smuggled in?" pined the master, tucked up in bed in his flannelette nightgown. "I'm so lonely. Theresa says I need to meet more lesbians and ethnic chappies."

He fluttered his eyelids. I fluttered my eyelids. Unfortunately, we were standing too close and they locked. As we waited for the Special Branch officer to come to our assistance, the master seemed to sense the intimacy of our relationship. "You know I'm the only one who really cares about the Rock," he murmured.

"I know you do," I said, taking his hand, "and I'm very touched. I'll always be here for you. I'm going nowhere. Just like you."

"I was talking about Gibraltar," he muttered brusquely, pulling his hand away. There was an awkward pause. "Would you mind giving me a hand with my urine sample?" he asked.

Afterwards, he made me drive him around the back streets of Paddington, handing out £50 notes to prostitutes. He'd wind down the window and say, "Here's the Tory party's new Unmarried Hooker's Winter Coat Allowance." They'd tuck it down their cleavage, and say, " 'Ere, fanks very much, Jeffrey."

"Actually, it's Iain," he'd say. "All part of our commitment to community outreach in the new Britain."

I'll never forget one amazing evening when he came downstairs looking absolutely stunning in a fur coat and diamond ear stud. I drove him to the Brompton Hospital and he stepped out the car and dropped his coat, and underneath he was completely naked! He stood there for a while but none of the passers-by seemed to notice him and after about 40 minutes his teeth were beginning to chatter. "T-T-Theresa's idea," he said, getting back in the car.

The following week, I had an audience of Mrs May. I remained standing throughout our three-hour conversation, as she'd sold off the chairs as a cost-cutting measure. The master's beaker was on the desk. "It's come back positive again," she said.

"Sorry to hear that, Ma'am," I said.

She passed it over to me and read out the lab report. "97.4% heterosexual white male urine, 1.1% Earl Grey, 0.6% Marmite, 0.5% Horlicks, 0.4% Cooper's Thick-Cut Oxford Marmalade." The mistress looked at me sternly. "You know these are all on the Tory party's new list of prohibited substances," she said, shaking her head sadly. "I've tried to reach out to Iain so many times."

"The trouble is, Ma'am," I said, "that you speak in colour. Mr Duncan Smith speaks in black and white. Er, I mean"

"What's all this about a gay scandal below stairs, Burble?"

"Oh, don't worry about that, Ma'am," I said. "Just some obscure bill. It'll all be hushed up. Shouldn't even make the papers, I expect."

[MadIvan]

This is a comment on the status of our Tories. We have a problem.

The present leader is Iain Duncan Smith. His aide, Theresa May have a project to make us more "inclusive". Personally I couldn't give a stuff about "outreach" so long as we stand for the right things.

The "dago poof" is Michael Portillo, who is plotting against Iain Duncan Smith to take the leadership. He is of Spanish heritage, and broke the "way, way, too much information" rule by admitting to having had gay "experiences" as a young man.

The Norman in this question is my hero, Norman Tebbit, who basically is telling the lot of them they are full of it.

We need a George W. Bush in our Tory Party, and quick.

Regards, Ivan

[MadIvan]

Bump!

[Happygal]

The "dago poof" is Michael Portillo, who is plotting against Iain Duncan Smith to take the leadership. He is of Spanish heritage, and broke the "way, way, too much information" rule by admitting to having had gay "experiences" as a young man.

A-HA!!!!! Similarities at last.
Eamon DeValera (Most popularly known in Ireland as Dev..Ivan, you've read about our Civil war politik that resulted in the existing NI situation)..was a Spaniard!! BTW..Bertie is part of his legacy!!!

And Ivan you are right.
AGAIN...I don't want a centerist party.
I want to vote for principle.
WHY.
WHY.
WHY.
Do I find nothing but obselesence?

[MadIvan]

The problem is, darling, is that New Labour has everyone believing that principles can't be popular. Well principles are one of the few ways that parties can now differentiate themselves. Too bad politicians are too stupid, collectively, to see it.

Love, Ivan

[Dog]

I am sorry Ivan but this was funny I don't mean to laugh...Steyn is a hoot when he is on his game.

[Utopia]

Clearly the Tories never understood the Reading of the Rules ... Rules 4, 6, 8 .. No Pooftas!

[MadIvan]

No, they understood the reading of the rules - just Michael Portillo came out of the closet, and we've been trying to stuff him back in ever since.

He is married, but one has to wonder about the legitimacy of that.

Regards, Ivan

[Cicero]

Clone Maggie Thatcher before she dies.

[MadIvan]

As it turns out, the BBC just said that Michael Portillo is going to be presenting one of the programmes in the "Great Britons" series. He is presenting the case for Elizabeth I. Figures they'd get one queen to discuss another. ;)

Love, Ivan

[MadIvan]

Mrs. Thatcher should still be our leader. She would destroy Blair, even though her health isn't the best.

Regards, Ivan

[Tares]

Bump

[vbmoneyspender]

With regard to Portillo, our intelligence agencies have a saying that I think they may have lifted from your Brit agencies -- "Once a c___s___er always a c___s___er!"

[Happygal]

Thatcher?

You BOTH know my opinion.

[MadIvan]

Oh come now, you'd love how Mrs. Thatcher would meet with Little Bertie, and he'd emerge from the meeting with two black eyes and carrying an ice pack clutched to his jaw. ;)

Love, Ivan

[knighthawk]

Mark Steyn ping

[Happygal]

I don't like the woman. Sue me.

[Lurking2Long]

This story is so bizarre that I'm not even sure what is going on...but I have a feeling that that is a "good thing".

[jla]

See? Just like you on your Uncle Mick's farm.
Maybe you & the Iron Lady have more in common than you think.

[MadIvan]

And let's not forget Mrs. Thatcher's preference in world leaders, similar to Happygal's:

Regards, Ivan

[Happygal]

Thanks J.
You just made me smile..BIG TIME.

But as much as I love RR...the Irish in me revolts against Thatcher...I was a kid in the 1980's...saw the footage..watched Bobby Sands (a child) die...

I'm not a Republican (in the Irish sense)..but some things, stick in the memory.

She's an old lady now.
I don't have to like or dislike her because she is not a policy maker no more.

I just don't like her.
And NEVER will.

Jeff, YOU know how stubborn I can be.
IVAN, Time you learned.

I hate margaret thatcher...you don't like that opinion.
Kiss my ass.