Quentin Kelp MP - Midweek Update

Funny story written by tjmstroud

Wednesday, 27 June 2012


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Dear Constituents

I've had such a hectic week and it's only Wednesday.
But here's my belated weekend report to all of you, my enthusiastic supporters and Krupton constituents.

As expected, the weekend concert of teenage hopefuls hammering on drums and trying to emulate Jimmy Hendrix was a rain sodden mud bath. Fair play to them for sticking it out but who can blame them for deciding enough was enough when lightning struck one of the amplifiers. I have to say I hadn't heard the thunder as I was sat far too close to one of their loudspeakers and, anyway, was far too pre-occupied with certain matters emanating from my Blackberry.

(What is wrong with women? You give them an inch and it's still never enough).

However it soon became obvious that something else was wrong when the music stopped and a sudden silence descended - except for the sound of the torrential rain of course. It was then that I noticed people running but I suppose that is a reasonable reaction when an oak tree crashes in a ball of flame - in this case, just behind the main marquee. But as I joined the stampede, Anthea (my PA) was still calling me on my Blackberry claiming I was making up stories about raging infernos just so that I didn't have to speak to her.

I kept telling her that the fire wouldn't last long and was bound to go out long before the fire brigade arrived due to the rain but that still wasn't enough. Then I fell arse over tit into the mud and my world went very dark for a few seconds. Not only that but I had to grope in the mud for my Blackberry. And, yes, Anthea was still talking.

As I struggled to my feet I tried to explain that her first job on Monday morning would be to take my suit to the dry cleaners. She sounded rather anguished at this and I seem to recall her saying that she was a PA and not "your bloody wife" but, before I had time to pursue the conversation, something else happened.

It was then that a dog bit me.

I suppose it, too, had been trying to escape the fire and mud but I have to admit I did pull on its tail in the mistaken belief that it was the hand of a loyal constituent desperately trying to preserve my dignity and save my navy blue suit. As I pulled harder trying to get to my feet, it sank its teeth deeper into my ankle and instead of releasing me immediately as it would surely have done if it had recognised me, it seemed determined to hold on ready to shake the life out of me.

It was then that I recognised it as the Pitbull terrier called Frankly from the Golden Fleece. Of course Colin, the pub landlord owner, was nowhere to be seen although I have to admit that by then we all looked the same colour - chocolate brown. But Anthea was still on the phone.

But this brings me to my theme of the week - the keeping of pets and teenagers.

You see, I think they all need to be properly licensed and tracked. Farmers have to do it so why not cats and dogs and teenagers?

Colin, I know, keeps his pitbull Frankly so that his pub remains free of drunken trouble-makers, although the chance of finding even one constituent to share a drink with in the Golden Fleece is difficult as it lacks the essential ingredient - other drinkers. So Frankly does very little except lie down and look menacingly at strangers out of the corners of his watery, red eyes. Only when he doesn't like the look of someone does he stand up. It is then that the water starts dripping from his mouth.

Cats are something else. I know that some people find keeping a cat, feeding it, wiping it, brushing it, renewing its toilet box and generally pouring affection over it is a necessary part of their quality of life. But a cat is a useless and selfish animal that does nothing except eat, drink, sleep and wander about at night looking to get its end away.

If someone needs to pour affection on something fluffy then why not buy a Teddy bear or even just find one. Plenty get left around. At least a Teddy bear doesn't need a flap cut in the back door so that it can wander in and out when it decides to.

And dogs can at least be made to work for their upkeep although I find their enthusiasm for their rather individual skills a bit overdone.

Have you ever watched a police dog sniffing out cannabis for the reward of a biscuit? This is not rational behaviour but a sign of an animal that is totally obsessed. It is mental cruelty. But it's a pity that teenagers don't show as much enthusiasm for work.

This interesting fact became quite obvious to me at the weekend. Teenagers also appear completely out of their minds and obsessively overexcited when they're making a noise that exceeds anything that the noise abatement society tolerates or are high on alcohol or something else. But try getting them out of bed when it's time for work or school and their energy seems to disappear. Not even the temptation of a bowl of Coco Pops (which I have tried on my son Henry) is enough.

So, I will be putting a fresh and innovative proposal to the Home Office.

You will be pleased to learn that I will be proposing that we replace police dogs on the grounds of animal cruelty. As a result of this policy, we will also find we are able to bring down teenage unemployment levels. No-one has ever tried this before.

We will achieve this by inviting teenagers to go self-employed and bid for Police contracts for drug raids. Some of them are already well practiced in the art of sniffing and we all know that their sense of smell and sound is far superior to that of adults. So I'm sure they can be persuaded that sniffing officially on behalf of the local Police force offers a great work-life balance. Perhaps they would also offer to forgo the minimum wage and work for a packet of Digestive biscuits and all the Class A drugs they can find.

The argument I already have ready in case my proposal is initially dismissed without proper consideration is that no-one is likely to solve the world-wide drugs crisis just by making a few random Police raids on social housing estates. Get rid of one local drug dealer and another moves in - it's market forces. There is no argument here.

So let's use the extraordinary powers of teenagers and inflict some form of control over them at the same time.

You see, it's not just their excesses of drinking, drug taking and utterly stupid behaviour. Teenagers spread disease.

Have you ever watched Embarrassing Bodies on TV? These teenagers are riddled with disease and parasites and suffer the most hideous abnormalities - or, at least the ones who expose themselves on Channel 4 via Skype do. We can't allow this. Like cows with TB, culling must be on the cards as a final solution.

So for those aged thirteen to nineteen I will also propose that they be properly licensed and given a number so that the authorities can track their movements and fine their registered owners if they wander beyond the agreed territorial limits or mix too closely with other animals of a similar age. The system is already tried and tested on our farmers so there is no need for any new technology. Clearly we can't use indelible body markings like sheep because they already have these and even pay for them. Instead, the simple solution for these teenagers will be ear tags with bar codes.

Teenagers are obsessive about following one another like sheep and so the tags could also be sold as a fashion accessory and I am convinced they would soon start looking out for personalised ear tag numbers.

I can imagine them shouting at one another above the noise in the Pink Coconut.
"I'll give you thirty quid and my COO 1 tag for your BRAT 1 tag."

But what is the point of keeping any pet or a teenager if all it does is hurt you or someone else? Teenagers live at home for free and still bite the wallet in your pocket and Frankly, that nasty piece of canine shit that lives for free at the Golden Fleece, bit me just because I grabbed his tail. I never want to hear anyone say that Quentin Quelp allows others to get the better of him, so I plan to bite him back when I get the chance.

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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