Pembroke Doolaly is probably best known to the UK population as one of the foremost exponents of riding the British political gravy train. He has been at the top of British politics now for almost forty years. Thereby surprising a great many of those who take an interest in politics by still being alive.
In his early days, as the son of the Earl of Doolaly, Pembroke, of course, joined the Labour party, anxious to be seen as one of the people. Providing of course, none of those people got too close.
He inherited the seat of Puddletown South in that great Labour tradition of nepotism from his uncle Bacillus Troutcock, who gave up the seat when he became Lord Troutcock. Troutcock entered the Lords pledging to work tirelessly to bring about the end of inherited wealth and privilege.
After serving in the Labour government as Secretary of State for Cabinet Meeting Chocolate Biscuit Provision, Doolaly saw the writing on the wall. He crossed the floor of the house to join the Conservative party in time for the rise of Margaret Thatcher. His constituents all bought their own council houses with money provided by Doolaly – which although technically illegal was covered by parliamentary privilege – and Doolaly’s natural aptitude for political blackmail.
In the Conservative party he rose to Chairman’s assistant in charge of buying stamps.
For a while when the Tory party waned through the Major years, Doolaly did consider joining the Liberal Democrats.
Instead, in a crisis of conscience and cash flow he rejoined the Labour party under Tony Blair.
While out canvassing in his seat, Doolaly saw real poverty for the first time. Pembroke was aghast to discover there were some households, after living for three or more work-less generations on benefits, who had TVs with screens that did not fill up an entire room. Some of them had been forced to choose between pay TV subscriptions and feeding their children. With some of those children reduced to eating as little as seven packets of crisps, and less than the national minimum of 14 litres of fizzy drinks, a day. ‘Some of the children weren’t even obese,’ a shocked Doolaly said on leaving one house where the woman and her 46 children had barely enough benefits to keep them comatose through ingesting cheap lager by the bucketful. The woman had even confessed she was forced to give her new born baby milk ‘like some savage in darkest France… y’know where the giraffes come from?’
Once more entering cabinet, where he claims he hid in a cupboard during the Iraq war discussions. He claimed he was out of the room fetching Gordon Brown a new mobile phone when all the wrong decisions were taken.
After that, he thought about joining the Conservative party again, but decided it wasn’t worth the bother of having to rejoin Labour at the next election after that. So, he decided to stay on the Labour backbenches in opposition and continue making money, where he remains to this day. He is almost as rich, wealthy and privileged as those on his front bench who taunt the Tories opposite for being rich, privileged and out of touch. Something that could never be said about Doolaly after his impressive parliamentary career, and his herd of libel solicitors held on retainer. He has promised to step down at the next election with his safe Labour seat democratically awarded to his own son, Trainshed Doolaly.
Truly, a fitting end to a glittering career in politics.