On a recent trip to a restaurant with friends I was delighted when a man came over and gave £250,000 to me to support my political party.
‘This is from the executives at HSBC – they want to thank you for scrapping the 50p tax rate and hope you have a great meal this evening.’ he explained. He was clearly very interested in economic policy so me and George Osborne invited him to sit down and join us so he could give us his thoughts on our future plans.
You’re probably thinking ‘what a lovely surprise’. But while it was lovely, it wasn’t a surprise. At least, not for me.
Throughout my political life, I’ve regularly had large sums of money sent to me or my party by men I deny knowing. Once, a well-dressed chap paid enough for me to employ several campaigners in the run up to the general election. I responded with a smile and invited him to join me and some friends for a glass of fine wine, while discussing the planned overhaul of the NHS and asking his view.
And whenever I’ve asked what I’ve done to deserve such treatment, the donors of these gifts have always said the same thing: my pleasing appearance and pretty smile made their day. And it would be nice if I could just read some proposals they have on a change to tax laws.
I’m a tall, well-spoken and handsome man, with a confident demeanour. I know how lucky I am. But there are downsides to being this beautiful – the main one being that some people seem to hate me for no other reason than my lovely looks. While being beautiful has opened many doors for me, it has also caused just as many problems.
Once a week at work I debate current affairs with colleagues, and the treatment I get from people who resent me for my looks is shocking. One funny-looking little man in particular is always very vocal, accusing me of being incompetent and picking fault with everything I do. Why does he do this? Because he is insecure about his own looks and hates me for being so beautiful.
[Does anybody want to tidy this up/finish it off?]