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Tuesday Diary: Let Me Guess, You Love a Garibaldi...

Jerry Hayes reveals Tony Blair had George W Bush coasters in Number Ten, and decides Hazel Blears is not of this planet.

By Jerry Hayes

16 Aug 2011, 08:03

* A rather uplifting week. After the horror of the riots it was rather cheering to see such wonderful acts of kindness. Lord Harris of Peckham decided to help those whose flats were destroyed above his Carpetrite store. The good people of Tottenham raised £25,000 for the eighty nine year old barber whose shop was trashed and Mark (blogger of this parish) has set up a pledge site to rebuild the iconic Reeves carpet warehouse which was razed to the ground in Croydon and whose distraught family moved the nation.

Nevertheless, it gave a cheery glow to my cheeks to see that dreadful little oik Jodie Macintyre finally get his come uppance  and sacked from his blog on the Independent for inciting riots. You may recall that he falsely accused the police of dragging him out of his wheel chair at a time when he was seen scuttling around causing trouble like Andy in Little Britain.

* And then to the funeral of a dear old friend, John Gaze, at that magnificent old church, St Michael Cornhill, where he had been the legendry parish Clerk for thirty years. He would have loved the service, soaring sacred music, a gifted choir, moving, yet witty eulogies; high Anglicanism at it’s very best. John was only a little fellow, but larger than life in every other way. He would often cause consternation by sitting wreathed in John Players extra strengh smoke during sermons. He was also a man who was renowned for his many acts of kindness. When dear old Mr. Tomlinson, the news vendor who died after a blow by a police officer, had his funeral at St Michaels, his widow was in a such a terrible state that John led her to the back of the church to calm her. He sat her down, put a lighted fag in her mouth and a tumbler of whisky in her shaking hand. “But this is the House of God!” she cried. “Oh, don’t worry at all” said John, “I’m sure she won’t mind”. We will miss him and our hearts go out to his partner, Ralph, who is devastated.

* So off we trooped to the Cutler’s Hall for a few sharpeners and then piled into the splendid Christian Sweeting’s Bentley for lunch at the Savile. Christian, you may recall, got into a spot of bother a few years ago for shooting a prospective constituent who was up no good with an air rifle. In these times he would be a hero.  He didn’t want to travel by public transport as he was dressed in the full regalia of a papal knight, with sword and ostrich feathered hat and was concerned that one of David Starkey’s Gangstas might put his sword to bad use. Once there we were entertained by the larger than life JP Lovegove who was once mistaken by former Northern Ireland secretary Lord Roy Mason, as a peer of the realm, at a reception. Not wishing to disappoint JP played along. “Yes, he said, the name’s Huntley”. “Ah,” says a delighted Mason, “of the Huntley and Palmer biscuit family I presume”. “Of course” says JP, getting into his stride, “and I can tell straight away that you are a biscuit man……let me guess, you love a Garibaldi”. At this poor old Roy was dumbstruck. It was as if a magician had read his mind. He wondered off mumbling, “remarkable, bloody, remarkable”. A happy man.

* Sadly, the Rev Michael Seed, who brought John Gummer and Tony Blair into the Roman Catholic church, couldn’t join us. He is always very much game for a laugh. He once told me that every time he said mass at Number Ten he had to discreetly remove the coasters that Blair had set aside for the water and wine. He wasn’t terribly keen that the Holy Sacrament should rest on personalised George W Bush coasters.

* Then to be tipped onto a late train to Birmingham. “Hello Jerry”, said a cheery voice. It was Mark Pritchard, Conservative MP for the Wrekin and Secretary of the 1922 Committee. He really is a great fellow and we had a fun conversation. Until he mentioned a piece I’d written about him. You may recall that he introduced a debate banning animals from performing in the Circus, which, for reasons beyond modern psychiatry, Number Ten threw a force nine wobbly over. He must have seen me pale, as I couldn’t remember whether I’d given him a monstering. To his credit and my relief he thanked me for saying some nice things. And anyone who shares their Burger King with me when I’m having an attack of the munchies can do no wrong.

* And finally the most bat shit crazy remark about the riots came from comedy MP Hazel Blears. “Why aren’t they all at school?” the ginger whinger outraged to a hushed nation. Nobody had the heart to tell her that it was August.