Bunty decided that it was time for Lady Member of Parliament boot camp-Lola had a lot to unlearn and quickly and the best people to bring on board were a psychiatrist with a practice in Yorkshire and an historian.
“Bunty, I’m confused, is Bingo still alive, and is he or is he not the enemy? Also my brain has been washed so many times-could it stand it again?” asked Lola sucking deeply on the pipe that Harold was teaching her to smoke to give her something to do with her fidgety hands .
“And, ” said Lola, “why Professor Wood? I can never remember where we left him.”
“Lola,” said Bunty, pacing across the room, “we need to distill your essence to give a concentrated measure of Gefiltre to the electorate!” said Bunty, suddenly feeling like a whizzy doctor, a spin meister, or something she couldn’t quite put her finger on…
“Ooh, Doctor Wood can strip me down any time he wants to!” cooed Lola.
“Now stop that!” chided Bunty, “we’re not in Italy! Lady MP’s in England have to be chaste not racy, so Bingo will have to repress those instincts and Dr Wood will help you unleash the imperious yet egalitarian Lola.”
“Well I always have liked the Proles, it’s jolly amusing when they run for the burning pennies in the old country!” said Lola.
“Oh dear,” thought Bunty, “this is going to be jolly hard work.”
“Well I’ll go to the foot of our stairs!” exclaimed Lola in an unconvincing northern accent, “Can you hear the marching of clogs and a woman with an ear-splitting singing voice? I do believe there’s trouble at Mill Bunty and if I remember rightly I am in the purple union as I was “inducted” by that quaint fellow and I can feel industrial action-and in fact any kind of action in my bones! Bunty grab your brassiere-we’re going to strike!”
Bunty didn’t bother to correct her.
Meanwhile, in the local village of Shenanigan the opposing forces were gathering.
A big bonfire was being built and the mob was being led by a scare crow like character who had strangely just won the local Scarecrow Festival with the award “Most likely to talk bullshit” which he also smelled of-he carried a carpet-bag wore a bowler hat and ragged clothes and went by the name of Dr Dork, Reverend Minister of the Church of the Poison Mind and he traveled with a retinue of unbelievers.
In Whipple Hessy Haddock was leading the workers out on strike, curiously singing as she went until she came face to face with Lola wearing a plain two piece suit and bland accouterments, topped off rather fetchingly with a flat cap worn at a jaunty angle, a large pipe which she was smoking ferociously, with a rather thin racing dog on a lead which she had decided to call Parkin.
She looked at the large woman with the red face in her head scarf and pinny and blowing out an impressive cloud of smoke, intoned in a hypnotic voice.
“Take me to your leader!”