Howdy. Well, as I said last time I was talking to you good folks, Mayor Mike Whitby, the leader of Birmingham City Council and my bestest pal ever, ordered me, Wilbur Snr, head of strategy in the communications directorate, to go an see some dude called Sir Albert Bore.
Now, it seems that this Sir Bore guy is a high-ranking Labor Democrat who dedicates his life to showing Mayor Mike no respect at all. Course, down where I come from folks like that would be tarred and feathered an' run out of town. We cain't be putting up with no Demcorats. But I guess you English are too laid back for that kind of thing.
Anyways, as I think I mentioned last time, this Sir Bore he ain't too well and spends most of his time in hospital. Mayor Mike tells me Sir Bore is some kind of brain box, claims to be a nooklear physicist, whatever that is.
Well, I tramped through that hospital, ward by ward, carrying a bag of grapes, a box of chocolates and a book of logarithms, just in case Sir Bore felt up to a little bedside maths. You could have knocked me down with a feather when they told me he ain't a patient, he runs the goddam place.
And another thing, I told Mayor Mike I ain't bowing and a scraping to your English aristocracy. No Siree. We Yanks ended all that kind of caper when we threw a load of tea in Boston Harbor many years ago. No taxation without representation, whatever that means.
I finally got shown into Sir Bore's office. You've never seen such a mess. Books an' papers all over the floor, dirty coffee cups on the desk. "Your lordship," I said. Well, you can't be too careful with manners. "I am Wilbur Snr, special envoy from Mayor Mike Whitby and head of strategising at the city council of Birmingham. Pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm sure."
Sir Bore, he took one look at me and said: "You are an idiot. Why are you making a fool of yourself running around Birmingham in shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and strumming a ukelele?"
Then he drew me kind of close and whispered in my ear: "Wilbur, I could have been a contender."
He spoke to me for a long time. A very long time. And this is what he said.
"Wilfred, Egbert, whatever your name is, don't listen to what they say about me.
"They say my memory is going. That I keep repeating myself. They say my memory is going. That I keep repeating myself. Well, that's just not the case. I say, that's just not the case.
"Do you know something William? I used to run this city. Oh yes. I could have gone places. I could have been an MP, a Minister, prime minister even. I could have been a contender, Wilson.
"But you know what happened? They stabbed me in the back. Ungrateful fools in my own party couldn't stand the success. My success.
"They kept putting political pygmies up against me for the leadership. But I saw 'em all off.
"Then I was sold down the river by the Liberals. Wilbeforce, never ever trust the Liberals. Never. If a Liberal shakes your hand, check to make sure your watch is still on your wrist.
"Now the Tories and the Liberals are running Birmingham. And you know what, Watson, they don't obey the rules. You've got to have process. Without that you have anarchy.
"Look, if something's not in the Forward Plan it just doesn't exist. The cabinet can't legally discuss it. But these idiots just don't care. They even ignore the Standing Orders.
"Winston, my boy, let me tell you something. I love those Standing Orders. I wrote most of them, for goodness sake. Many's the night I've gone to bed with a copy of the Standing Orders for company. Now they're being cast aside by people who think they can just make things up as they go along.
"I'll be back you know. One day, I'll be back. I could still be a contender....."
Well, Sir Bore he kind of went on and on and on, so I slipped out 'cos I didn't think he would notice.
You know something? I think he talks even more than Mayor Mike. And that's a lot of talking.