Tony “Bono” Blair is a bit confused. He believes he is the famed British Prime Minister of the same name, deposed after winning a third term. Things begin to look up for Tony when a letter arrives offering a position with McCreedie construction. Thinking he is taking over as CEO of a powerful NASDAQ company, Tony accepts the offer and travels to Scotland, hoping to meet the people, regain their trust, and use his new career as a springboard back into high office. The new career isn’t all Tony had hoped, and he finds himself building a cement runway at Ardrossan International Airport.…
Tony faked a signature to pay a huge bill he’d inadvertently run up back in the hotel … now he’s confronted by an irate boss holding the invoice … and there’s embarrassment ahead about the hazardous chemical that has bothered him for so long … Tony’s journey into the wilderness continues …
Saliva cornered Freeman’s thin, rapidly moving, mouth. Apparently, I wasn’t in a holiday camp. Apparently, Mr. Ferguson hadn’t visited the tourist information suite in his entire life. Apparently, Mr. Ferguson contacted Freeman about the invoice personally, and when the CEO contacted anyone like personally, something awful soon happened to that person afterwards.
“Use of corporate hospitality suite? This could ruin us, Bliar. This could be the end of us. You signed an invoice for corporate advice in the CEO’s name. What were you thinking of, giving McCreedie’s name and signing invoices as the CEO? Corporate advice? What corporate advice?”
I was used to the sight of ravenous opposition baying for my blood. Soon they’d be eating out of my hands.
“Shut up, or I’ll shut you up for good. Pull any more of your stunts and you’re finished.”
“You know, there may be troubled times ahead, but try to understand. Progress is good for everybody.”
But Freeman wasn’t cool about progress. I was there to test the concrete, nothing more. There were worse jobs than testing. Sorensen Marine Processors for example.
“Any more stupidity and your testing days will be over, Bliar. You’re going to find it very hard round here, so my advice is stop messing around. You’ll never be going home ever, and you’ve no chance of a good evaluation if you keep messing around.”
“Evaluation? You don’t scare me with your talk of an evaluation. That’s like, limp-wristed political accountability gone mad.”
But Freeman wanted to know what took so long at the dump.
“Stop to study something did you?”
“I was looking.”
“Looking for what? Ships, incoming enemy aircraft, flying freaking saucers?”
“Hazardous chemical actually, hotshot. I know you’ve got it, bud. I know where it is, and I want you to stop being naughty boys and trying to hide it.”
“Look, I’ll teach you something for nothing, Bliar. The hazardous chemical is plasticiser for the concrete. That’s all it is.”
“Nothing sinister. Now stop asking stupid questions, get some skates on, and stop messing about or I’ll kick your ass around this site forever, you tiny, freaking, soft school satchel, and tidy this place up for Chrissake, it looks like a battlefield. Mr. Ferguson will be here tomorrow, and he’ll want to see a tidy lab, and an upright member of parliament trying not to look like a poodle.”
“Okay daddio. I’m making like a busy bee, and you won’t see me for dust.”
Of course, I knew all the time it wasn’t like, dangerous. But I was starting to itch in a very embarrassing place.
Tony Blair: The Wilderness Years, the novel, ISBN 1-4196-0573-9
This Blog Is
Dedicated To Me, Tony ‘Bono’ Blair.
Without Me, None Of This Could Have Been Possible.
Check out Ian Duncan Smith’s satirical blog Hold It Up For Ridicule.