"WHERE IS THE SHITTING THING?"
Somewhere in the flat a Nokia 6680 was ringing - for the third time in an hour - and he still couldn't find where it was. It was not down the back of the sofa, it was not in the laundry basket, and it most definitely was not in any of his pockets. For a second, he stopped his madcap dash around the flat, and tried again to listen for the ringtone, while making a mental note to finally change it from that awful bastardisation of Tárrega's Gran Vals.
Was it -? He pulled the fireguard away and found his phone happily lighting up the unlit fireplace. Without pausing to look who was calling, he pressed the answer button.
"Yes?"
A plummy voice with a slight, but still identifiable, Australian twang answered. "I do hope that this isn't an inopportune moment, only I've just finalised the speaking order for Conference, and I thought you might like to know."
He should have known it would be Maude. "Sorry Francis, how are you?"
"Not too bad thanks, busy as ever, but you know how it is. Look, I don't have long so I'll get right down to it. Assuming you are still running for leader come conference season -"
"I have absolutely no ambitions in that dire-"
"Yes, very cute. Look, if you're in the running, we'd like you to speak on the Wednesday afternoon at Conference. I really must get off, I've got some event to get to where I'm speaking - Conservative-Zoroastrian League or something - and I need to change."
With that, Francis Maude rang off.
Now the phone was found he could call someone else. He scrolled through his contact list - nearly calling the member for North West Hampshire by accident - before finding the right number and pressing call.
"Hello David, how are you?"
"Good thanks George, look..."
Somewhere in the flat a Nokia 6680 was ringing - for the third time in an hour - and he still couldn't find where it was. It was not down the back of the sofa, it was not in the laundry basket, and it most definitely was not in any of his pockets. For a second, he stopped his madcap dash around the flat, and tried again to listen for the ringtone, while making a mental note to finally change it from that awful bastardisation of Tárrega's Gran Vals.
Was it -? He pulled the fireguard away and found his phone happily lighting up the unlit fireplace. Without pausing to look who was calling, he pressed the answer button.
"Yes?"
A plummy voice with a slight, but still identifiable, Australian twang answered. "I do hope that this isn't an inopportune moment, only I've just finalised the speaking order for Conference, and I thought you might like to know."
He should have known it would be Maude. "Sorry Francis, how are you?"
"Not too bad thanks, busy as ever, but you know how it is. Look, I don't have long so I'll get right down to it. Assuming you are still running for leader come conference season -"
"I have absolutely no ambitions in that dire-"
"Yes, very cute. Look, if you're in the running, we'd like you to speak on the Wednesday afternoon at Conference. I really must get off, I've got some event to get to where I'm speaking - Conservative-Zoroastrian League or something - and I need to change."
With that, Francis Maude rang off.
Now the phone was found he could call someone else. He scrolled through his contact list - nearly calling the member for North West Hampshire by accident - before finding the right number and pressing call.
"Hello David, how are you?"
"Good thanks George, look..."