Diary of an undercover lobbyist: Mission Implausible II

The Intimate Adventures of a Holyrood Call Girl #2 – Ambition

Following on from last week’s blockbusting insight into the tortoiselike rise of the most revered Firstminstering whore

“Being democratic is not enough. A majority cannot turn what is wrong into right. In order to be considered truly free, countries must also have a deep love of liberty and an abiding respect for the rule of Rupert Murdoch.” said this greetin faced witch.

By Belle De Salmond

Having said that, the leap to full-on prostitution did not happen overnight…

I ended up in London like hundreds of other MPs. With only a wee smidgeon o’ credibility and a wee bit saved, I thought I was set for a few months but my surplus was quickly drained by meaningless questions and trivial mud slinging.

My daily routine consisted of poring over Hansard, writing enthusiastic and sycophantic covering letters, although I knew I’d never be listened to, and self pleasuring by talking in front of the mirror all night.

The self pleasuring was, by far, the highlight of those days. I imagined myself employed as President of the United Independent Republic of Scotland, and that the job involved covering my thighs with Presidential questions while a mega-rich plutocrat screwed me vigorously.

Or being the elder statesman in discussion with powerful media magnates, chained to their newspapers and eaten out by one of the other corporatist drones, who in turn was impaled on a Foxy satellite mast.

Or riding on a bus, as same sex hands pinched and pulled at my skin, gestures at first financially pleasurable, then politically painful.

London wasn’t the first city I’d campaigned in, but it was certainly the largest. Anywhere else there is always the chance of seeing someone you know, or at the very least a smiling face. Not here. Aw basturt anonymous English oppressors.

MPs crowd the corridors of power, eager to outdo each other to get a pat on the heid from their various leaders.

A female next to me one big media day held a select committee report just inches from her face; it was only later that I realised that she was not reading but crying. I would have offered sympathy considering my party had helped her get into power in the first place, but seeing her kicked oot by her ain lot was just too good to miss.

So I watched my piffling credibility dwindle away as reading through Hansard became the highlight of each week…

For more of Belle’s  adventures in the Diary of a Holyrood Call Girl, tune in next week at the same place – AhDinnaeKen.wordpress.com

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