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There was a knock on the door and a man had a brown envelope: I feared it was for me

Tom Winnifrith
Tuesday 12 April 2016

Having received two threatening emails in two days from lawyers acting for celebrity xxxxxx and his partner xxxxxxx who do not want us all to know what we all already know about threesomes, unprotected anal sex and olive oil baths, I am feeling a tad skittish. And so seeing a bearded man get off his bike and wander to my front door carrying a brown envelope I feared the worst. It would not be the first time that I have been "served" at this adddress.

Sure enough the envelope was stuffed through the letterbox and had my name on it carefully typed. I opened the door and shouted "who are you" as the fat bearded man got back onto his moped. He asked if I was "Mr Winnifrith" to which I shiftily replied that I was at which point he announced who he was "Comrade, I am your local labour councillor". 

Indeed, inside the envelope were clear instructions as to how, as a loyal party member since just before the leadership contest, I can assist Comrade Corbyn and the brothers and sisters in our struggle against the wicked Tories in the forthcoming local elections. I waved a fraternal wave and went back in to be accosted by the Mrs who said sternly that she hoped that I had not been rude to the comrade councillor.

Certainly not. He had informed me the envelope contained a poster for me to display. I said truthfully that I already had one, posted to me by comrade Marvin our Mayoral hopeful. Comrade councillor said I should display both. I mumbled something about how loyalties in our household were divided and that made it hard. That statement is true if not perhaps quite in the way that comrade councillor might think. Perhaps the Mrs is now down on some database run by the Comrades as being an evil capitalist loving Tory.

The strict instructions include how I must report anything that the wicked Tories are up to in our area. Every cloud has a silver lining. To do my bit for Comrade Corbyn I shall now force myself to pop along to the Conservative Club tonight for a cheap pint of beer. It is all in the line of duty you understand.

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About Tom Winnifrith
Tom Winnifrith is the editor of When he is not harvesting olives in Greece, he is (planning to) raise goats in Wales.
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