Elijah Chaucer, our Northern Bard, will from time to time regale us with progress of Conference, and provide a behind the scenes look at life on Conference committee.
Remember, you heard it here first!
Lord Drummond of Northern Parts and Lady Michelle of Middle Parts were knackered and did sit together in the Hall of Gundog Manor resting their aching dogs and drinking yet another triple sambuca and paraffin.
"It’s been a hell of a year," said Lord Drummond, his gentle Scottish brogue beginning to crack after yet another speech to the unwashed. "Indeed it has, my Lord," agreed Lady Michelle, her long blond tresses o’erflowing the curvy dress frontage alluringly. "I’m fair jiggered and looking forward with great gusto for that day in Leeds when I can at last pass on the mantle of NALC to some other babe."
Lord Backhouse, upon hearing the word 'babe' and thinking of porkers again, trotted in with Hector his favourite Wessex Saddleback in close tow. "Ey up and sithee thou two, what’s all this slobbing around and talking of pigs when thou knowest that I am most sensitive to a comely swine."
At that moment in danced Sir Gundog. "Ah, a comely swine!", muttered Lady Michelle. "What Ho!, me old beauties," proclaimed Sir Gundog, a foppish hat draped over one eye, "things are going reight gradely at conference HQ, numbers are up, the hotels are all waiting and Tetleys have brewed an extra ship load of ale to quench the heaving masses when thou two have exercised thine gobs all day at the AGMs. The sun shines and the Yorkshire welcome is laid on thick and proper for t’lads and lasses of RTBI and NALC."
Sir Ian of Hemsworth minced in, his hands caressing one another, their scent of filthy lucre mingling with his Old Spice, bought for half price in Leeds market. "We’re on target for a massive profit," he cried in bean counter ecstasy. "Handley, Prince of Birmingham will wear new ermine robes this year and the most flashy of German carriages will be purchased for National Exec use out of the proceeds. I have done well and I know that Lord Drummond and Lady Michelle shall reward my niggardly penny pinching with elevation to the Lords as I’ve long hankered after."
He looked hopefully at the reclining duo. Into his vision rose Sir Gundog, a look of fearsome fire burning his rugged features. Pulling himself up to his full five foot two he rounded on his tight fisted and misguided friend.
"Thou speaketh of profit, thou speaketh of ermine and German carriages, thou speaketh of reward!" His voice was rising and Lord Backhouse covered the ears of Hector to save the sensitive boar from the onslaught which all knew was on its way. "There will be no profit, there will be no gratuities, nor blandishments heaped on the National Exec. This conference is for the common folk, those for whom a wash is an unlooked for luxury, those for whom food must come second to the glory of a proper pint, those for whom sack cloth and rope belt are more easily fit than ermine and a foppish hat. Thou wilt leave my hall this instant and thou shalt proceed forthwith and without dilly dally to the conference venue and the hotels and thou wilt insist that the managers spend all thine ill begotten profits, garnered from the common lads and earthy lasses of our organisations, on the enjoyment of our folk at Conference 2008. Thou must right quick sack Peters and Lee with whom thou had contracted to sing on all evenings, and employ the best musicians around these parts, thou shalt put away any thought of dishing up boiled turnip for tea and instead provide decent grub, to the liking of Sir Gordon of Ramsey, thou shalt reduce thy beer prices so that all can have a right good sup and thou shalt swap the hovels set aside at thy farm as lodgings for the best that Leeds town centre has to offer and at low prices too. All this thou shalt do this very day to give the guests a proper Yorkshire value for money weekend and bugger the thought of profit for Handley, Prince of Birmingham. For thou art a tight fisted effeminate jessy, thine silk purse runneth over for the minute yet by the end of this day it hadst best be down to its last groat after a clear out of funds or so help me I’ll…...."
Lord Backhouse slowly backed away fearing that Sir Gundog was about to bust. Lord Drummond of Northern Parts and Lady Michelle of Middle Parts blanched at the foul and putrescent language issuing forth from Sir Gundogs spraying lips. Sir Ian of Hemsworth sobbed, his tears falling onto the crisp oncers which currently filled his ladies purse. All knew that Sir Gundog had at last risen from the jesty fop which he had of late become and had transformed into the virile and powerful stallion which had been hidden beneath his outrageous costumery. Lady Audrey swooned fair away with pride at the man whom she had married as a last resort but who had now shown himself for the leader she had always longed for. Darting forward she plucked him from the room to lead him to arbours cool where the heat could be turned up further, a look of unconcealed desire spread across her face and heaving bosom. Sir Ian was left to go on his spending spree, every penny which left his purse causing him actual physical pain.
Lady Rochedale and the bard Chaucer appeared when all had left, Chaucer still believed she would fall for his own brand of gibberish and so let fly another of his classy poems:
Lady Kathy was now thoroughly sick of the lumpy poet and kicked him gracefully in the gonads. "See you at Leeds at the conference," wheezed Chaucer, optimistically seeing the kick as a playful taunt.
"Not if I see you first, bloody ejit" sayeth strong Lady Kathy, checking for hot towels.
And so the stage was finally set to welcome one and all to Old Leeds. You’ll enjoy it when you get here and we’ll give you the chance to make some great memories of your time in Yorkshire. Eat, drink and be merry and remember there’s always someone worse off than you …. and it’s usually Sir Gundog!!
View the Chaucer's Chuntering Archive
WARNING - may contain nuts.