Paul Who?

I had a great laugh at the following spoof by Hugo Rifkind which appeared in the Times the other day - on the life and times of the Reverend Paul Flowers - now that he is not the flavour of the month and is keeping his head down, so to speak.

I have re-titled my post with the heading Paul Who? - because I remember the behaviour of people when I resigned from the Labour Party many years ago.

Some of my former friends and colleagues in the trade union movement disappeared like 'snow off a dyke' as they say - pretending that they didn't know me or that I had been a Labour supporter for the previous 10 years.

I'm sure one of my former Unison colleagues put out a press release along the lines of Mark Who? - which is why I find the bit about Ed Balls and the Labour leadership so hilariously funny.  

I must see if I can find a copy of that old press release - now that would be even funnier.

My Week: Paul Flowers*

Paul Flowers: Banker?

Paul Flowers: Banker?PA

By Hugo Rifkind

Monday

I am in hiding. Only my closest friends know where I am. One comes round and just looks at me.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” he sighs. “I can’t quite believe it.”

I hang my head.

“I thought I knew who you were,” he says. “It’s like you’ve been living a double life.”

I agree that it must look that way.

“I mean,” he says, “for God’s sake, Paul! We have the same friends. You’ve been to my house. We’ve even been on holiday together. And all this time none of us ever even suspected . . .”

“I know,” say, “I know.”

“. . . that you were a banker,” he says.

Tuesday

The doorbell rings, quite early. I don’t answer. If it’s not the press it’ll be the milkman, and I owe him money. I’ve slightly lost track of how much, but it’s either £4 or £44 billion. Either way, I don’t have it to hand.

Sitting in my front room, with the curtains drawn, I call Ed Balls.

“Do I know you?” he says.

“Ed!” I say. “It’s me! Paul! From the Co-op Bank!”

“Never heard of it,” says Ed.

But it’s one of Britain’s largest financial institutions, I say. Part of the Co-operative Movement, for which you’ve been an MP for the past eight years.

“Never heard of that, either,” says Ed.

“But we gave you loads of money!” I say. “It’s just not plausible that you didn’t realise!”

“Did you realise?” he says.

“Fair point,” I say.

Wednesday

Len Wardle, the Co-op’s overall chairman, has resigned over his links to me. We meet, incognito, in a Manchester coffee shop.

“Coffee?” I say. “Or would you prefer a cocktail of crystal meth, cocaine and ketamine?”

Len says just a coffee, thanks. Then he sighs. We had such plans, he says. All turned to dust. Perhaps our only legacy will be Smile, online.

“I don’t think anybody is smiling about what I’ve been doing online,” I say.