(This letter was sent to Nick Clegg on 4th March 2010 – awaiting reply)
Let me first begin by saying that your mum and your old school must be proud of you. You da man. You’re living the dream. You’re head of a political party. But we have a little problem, Nicky. And that is, how shall I put it?….No one’s ever heard of you.
Shhh. I know what you’re saying. You’re saying, ‘Oh, but they have heard of me. I’m leader of the liberal democrats. I’m in the papers a lot.’ Yes, Nicky, love, but you’re in the papers that noone reads and unless they start putting boobs in The Telegraph and Ashley Cole Love Rat headlines in the Guardian they never will. I saw a friend last night. ‘Kirsty,’ I said, because that’s her name. ‘I’m going to write a letter to Nick Clegg.’ And she said ‘Who’s he?’
It’s not really your fault Nicky. No one had heard of Ming either. I once mentioned Ming Campbell when I was having dinner with my sister. Later that night as my sister lay in bed, entwined in her husband’s arms, she said, ‘baby, who the fuck is Ming?’ and he said, ‘how the fuck should I know?’
So the odds are stacked like chairs against an assembly hall wall. With you being the assembly hall wall. But it’s all right poppet, I’m here to help you. I’m here to help you dazzle. Because dazzle you need to do. Hasn’t anyone told you, Nicky, there’s an election coming up? And we don’t like the other two candidates.Now is the time for us, your people, to take you, little Nicky, into their hearts.
The way I like to look at it, Nicky, is like this. Imagine that the nation is a young lady at a party. She’s feeling good. She’s done a 5 sunbeds for a fiver deal, she lost a bit of weight last week after some dodgy Sweet and Sour prawn balls and to put it plainly Nicky she’s up for it. The only available men at this party are Gordon, David C and you. Now she’s already had a bit of Gordon and frankly it was dissappointing, she thinks David C. is a plonker, and, Nicky, all you need to do is give her a lukewarm WKD or do a silly dance to the PussyCatDolls and you could be copping a feel in the downstairs loo. But you’re not doing anything, Nicky, you’re standing by the fridge picking your teeth.
Darling, it has to stop, you have to get in there. And that’s why I’m writing. I’m going to give you some tips to dazzle.
1) You must call yourself Nicky Clegg from now on. Nicky Clegg, see how warm it sounds. Think Nicky Clarke, Nicky Campbell, granted they’re both pretty odourous, but we’ve heard of them, darling. So Nicky Clegg it is.
2) You must stop wearing suits. The only people who wear suits are bankers, undertakers and Piers Morgan. And we don’t like any of them. Haven’t you noticed the popularity of Lady Gaga and Strictly Come Dancing? We want feathers, shades, sequins and hats shaped like lobsters. But failing that a nice tank top with a shirt underneath would do. Never unerestimate the effect a tank top has on a woman, Nicky.
3) You need to stop talking like a politician. When you come home after a hard day’s work and your lady says, ‘ey up, squidgy bum how was your day?’ do you respond by taking a deep breath, doing a quick impression of a girl about to throw a netball and saying, ‘well, i start from the simple premise that this election to be different to the last several elections for the simple reason that…’ ? Of course you don’t because your good lady would say, ‘Whoah, there, Nicky, back up till it beeps. Why are you talking like a freak?’ Well, that’s how we feel when we hear politician speak. Now please stop it.
4) You need to use fake tan. You have an unfortunate case of politicain palor. You look grey. Don’t worry it’s common. I would recommend Johnson and Johnson Holiday glow, and while you’re in Boots I’d get some of their Protect and Perfect serum as politics causes premature aging of the skin.
5) You need to do something so that the little papers will write about you. I would suggest calling Simon Cowell and asking him if you could cover Danii’s maternity leave but I’m not sure he’d take the call. Therefore, you must harness youtube and Twitter. I realise you’re already using them. But Nicky, darling, you’re not doing it right. No one wants to watch you on The Andrew Marr show unless you’re saying ‘Ed Balls,’ and then sniggering like a twelve year old over the word ‘balls’. This I recommend you do, you then need to post the footage on youtube under ‘Nicky Clegg’s Gaffs’ along with another short clip where you attempt a Justin Timberlake dance move at a wedding and fall onto a bridemaid and break her leg. As for Twitter, don’t Twitter links to your interviews, Nicky! No one wants to read that. Twitter things like ‘David C. is a twat’, protest your innocence by saying you were hacked, but keep them coming.
I do think these little changes could make all the difference, Nicky. Jolly good luck with it all. I shall be following your progress avidly.
On lighter notes, I really think Spring might be on the way. Hurrah!
Yours very sincerely