Undercover Cameron

The strangely moist and thoroughly unlikeable David Cameron, leader of Her Majesty’s Opposition and potentially the next elected Prime Minister, went undercover in Birmingham last week. Old-Etonian Cameron, who occasionally tries to disguise himself as a member of the lower orders by removing his tie and asking to be called “Dave”, spent a few days living with an “ordinary family”, Abdullah and Shahida Rehman. While he was in Brum Daveyboy also had a crack at being a teaching assistant at a local school.

It’s quite romantic, really, and not unlike the old folk tales where the King puts on a peasant smock, has a quick roll in the dung-heap and sets off to travel amongst his subjects disguised as a beggar. Those stories (at least the ones that get turned into folk songs) tend to follow a predictable pattern.

The undercover king, prince, pope, bishop, colonel, (or whatever), lustily plights his troth with a blushing maiden who steadfastly refuses to Do It with him because she is too pure, and also because he has no money. In Olden Times it seems, a maidenhead was rarely jettisoned without huge lumps of cash changing hands. How unlike the present day, when the phrase “there’s no such thing as an ugly rich man” is never used under any circumstances.

Desperate for a shag, the beggar flings off his smock to reveal his doublet, hose, fine stockings, and, most importantly, a bulging, throbbing purse of gold coins. At which point the maiden suddenly realises that she truly loves him and they rush to the hay-loft where they couple like maddened badgers.

They then either run off together and marry, or he dumps her and heads back to the castle leaving her to bear an illegitimate child, live for twenty years in poverty and then die horribly from smallpox.

And actually we don’t care what happens to them, because by this point the ballad, sung by a middle-aged Aspergic woman with dirty hair in a centre parting and a voice like two asthmatic piglets fighting in a bag, has reached the eighty-second verse and we have broken out in a slight sweat and abandoned all hope.

Not that Dave got up to any of that stuff. He came back having had “an experience which has strengthened my conviction about the right way to build a more cohesive Britain.”

Which is good, probably, but it’s not the kind of thing you’d want to write a song about.