The First Draft of Nick Clegg’s Party Conference Speech is an Eye Opener!

Clegg

Party Conference 2013 Closing Speech – Nick Clegg (Draft)

Well, look at you. My tired eyes scan the room and what do they see? Traitors! Nothing but traitors! Gasbags! Bellows! Yes men! No men! No women in our parliamentary party!

This isn’t a conference, it’s a wake!

Man, I wish Ming Campbell was alive to see this.

So here we flap; another wasted trip to one of the country’s premier sink-holes, marked by indifference from the public and the profound imbecility of our so-called activists. Why do you come every year? What do you think you know about government? You think it’s easy being Deputy Prime Minister? Well it’s not – it’s a living death: I’m the sequel to John Prescott for God’s sake. It’s power without power. I’m the worst straight man of all time. What does that do to a bloke? I’ll tell you – it churns him up inside. Pour resin into my soul-shaped void and you’ll get a lump of perfectly preserved blowflies.

I go around the country and people ask me, ‘Nick, why did you do it? Why did you join the Liberal Democrats?’ And I tell them, truthfully, that the only reason I didn’t throw my lot in with the Conservatives, who are after all my ideological kinsmen, more so than you non-entities anyway, was their anti-Europeanism. When you’ve got a Spanish moll and you best chance of power is a seat in the so-called European Parliament, there’s no place for you in what was, and some say still is, the party of William Hague.

This, ingrates, is the tragedy of Nicholas William Peter Cleggover – a man who compromised everything he believed in for a chance at successful monogamy and a realistic shot at a political career, only to ascend to government, thanks to a perfect storm of in-party perfidy, bent capitalism and an autistic Prime Sinister, yet remain on the sidelines. Next to me Walter White looks like an everyman with a shot at redemption. Anyone bring ricin? Well before you give it to me why not test it on Sarah Teather? It’s about time we got a laugh out of that bullfrog.

People say we’ve junked our principles; thrown away everything we ever claimed to believe in for a seat at the top table. Not so. We’ve never been visionaries. Liberal Democrats believe that ideology means being cuffed to a corpse in the desert. Government’s about successful management: the evidence based assumption that the fundaments of the system are sound; it’s just the admin that needs tightening up. If this means our policies are short-term, contradictory, piecemeal and uninspired, so be it. The Gang of Four didn’t leave the Labour Party because they were in love with radicalism, knowhattamean? Isn’t that the truth about Liberalism that we know, even if the electorate have forgotten? Well they’re reminded now and damn them if they can’t see the sense in it.

When the pig-ignorant owner-occupiers that open their doors to leafleting swine like yourselves ask, ‘what difference have you made to this government in your tit-for-tat alliance with your pale reflection, David Cameron?’, you can tell them, with pride, that it was never about differentiating ourselves – it was about showing Middle England, that reactionary peat bog, that we could govern like a real, that is to say innately conservative political party; that a vote for the Liberal Democrats was a safe bet. Why split the Tory vote in those seats? Because, idiots, it means getting a hand on the unholy grail – permanent coalition: the dream that never again will this country be addled by a single party government with a radical agenda for change.

But if those self-same miscreants persist and want to know about Liberal Democrat policies; the stuff we left in a packing crate under the table; then you tell them, and with pride – minor changes to the tax system, a ban on private sector wheel clamping, a row of houses built and the TSB back on the high street – it wouldn’t have happened without us, and by us I mean me. You didn’t do anything.

So let’s return to our constituencies and prepare to sell this lemon in 2015. You know what a return to opposition would mean. Oblivion. No one’s going to take us seriously as a real alternative now. Coalition’s the only game in town, hippies. The public rejected our attempt at rigging the electoral system and insisted we inspire the hordes to gain the largest share of the vote to achieve power, so scuppering the main parties’ attempts at crossing the finishing line is our only chance. You think I like it? I wanted to cheat; I tried – it’s not my fault the feckless masses came out of their coma at the wrong moment.

Anyway, let’s get out of here and try and forget about the last few days. I for one found it to be an even more dispiriting occasion than usual. Listening to you relics from the wilderness years didn’t help either. If you want to feel good about something, try this: Lembit Öpik’s still not an M.P.

Have a yellow afternoon.

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Published in: on September 18, 2013 at 12:37  Leave a Comment  
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