Following on from the successful BBC true life drama "A Very English Scandal", a hitherto unpublished diary has been uncovered, containing revelations of a short but torrid affair between Liberal MP and gay poster boy Jeremy Thorpe and another young MP by the name of Margaret Thatcher.
Both were elected to parliament in 1959 where the overwhelming experience of fusty old men smelling of gin and ready rubbed tobacco bonded the youngsters together, resulting in a full blown love affair. Thatcher's diary reveals some gory details and links to Thorpe's affair with Norman Scott:
15th October 1959. Dear diary, I've only been an MP for a week and I think I am in love. His name is Jeremy and I am infatuated with his side parting and his trilby hat. I go weak at the knees at the sight of his oversize double breasted pinstripe suit. He is so wonderful.
22nd October 1959. OMG! Dear diary, he sat next to me in the tea room. I could feel myself blushing and I had a warm feeling in my winceyette knickers. I couldn't talk. What is a girl to do?
10th November 1959. Dear diary, I've made some discreet enquiries about JT. It seems he isn't married and doesn't have a girlfriend. Rejoice.
1st December 1959. Dear diary, a breakthrough. I managed to 'bump into' Jeremy all week and he offered me a lift home late this evening. He said 'we can't have a pretty young thing like you jumping into a cab, can we?' We went through St. James' Park in his Morris Minor and stopped in the shadows of the Mall. There in full view of Buckingham Palace, he let me hold his gear stick for a moment before I just had to kiss him. I don't know what to do with myself. This is so wrong, but oh so right.
24th December 1959. Dear diary. I will be beside myself all over Christmas. I went to Jeremy's flat for 'drinks' where he said he 'wants to go straight'. I had no idea what he meant when he asked me for something called 'oral sex'. It's a new concept to me, but when he told me to get on my knees, I just did as he said because I love him. Then he put his thing in my mouth. It's so much bigger than Dennis'. OMG. I can't believe I liked it. This recess is going to be so long.
7th January 1960. Dear diary, I'm so glad to be back in the house. Dennis was beastly to me all over the holiday. He kept telling me I'm like a love sick schoolgirl and when I tried to take his manhood in my mouth he asked where did I learn that? He's suspicious. Is it that obvious? I want my Jeremy...
Unfortunately for the naïve Thatcher, things did not go exactly as she hoped.
14th January 1960. Dear diary. I don't know what to do. Jeremy is an animal. We skipped Prime Minister's questions for a little tête-à-tête at his flat. He was gentle at first, unbuttoning my Brentford Nylons blouse, removing my brassiere and polyester skirt slowly before taking off my Marks & Spencer panty girdle and winter flannelette bloomers. He laid me on his bed face down. I asked him to use protection. No need, he said, I have something better, waving a jar of Vaseline. I asked him if that works and he assured me that it does indeed. He loaded a generous amount onto his beautiful throbbing organ and I was panting. He told me to relax, face the wall and to be his bunny, or it might have been bummy. I didn't know a man could do such a thing to a woman and he hurt me.
Thatcher broke off the affair shortly after her misadventure with the pederast Thorpe, no doubt scarred emotionally and a little bit sore physically. The experience coloured her politics forever and the hitherto sweet and gentle grocer's daughter turned into the heartless bitch who would become known as The Iron Lady.