Labour Conference in An Alternate Universe

A sombre mood descended over Manchester today in the shadow of this year’s Labour Party conference. Faded reddish hoardings, apparently pre-distressed, adorned the area around the conference site of Manchester Central bearing the Labour Party emblem and the laconic message: SORRY.


labour sorryBilled as the party’s ‚Day of Atonement‘, delegates saw a who’s who of the Labour leadership of the past thirty years take to the podium to beg the forgiveness of the party faithful and the British working class as a whole.


A particularly emotional moment came early on in Labour Leader Ed Miliband’s keynote address: ‚I met a number of people down the park recently…‘, began the man who vows to usher in a new era of accountability in Labour politics, ‚…actually, that’s a lie. In point of fact, I was sat on a bench, minding my own business, hiding behind the Telegraph whilst I attempted to eat a bacon buttie, when a number of people recognised me and began to approach.‘ The prospective PM stifled a sob before he went on: ‚They were throwing things and shouting, „You useless git“. One woman pointed at me and said to her young children, „That’s the man who says you’ll need to sleep wrapped in jumpers and old chip wrappers to keep warm this winter!“ And I could only think to myself „Fucking hell. I’m…I’m an absolute tosser. I never knew…“‚. The woman in question, he informed the delegates, was an unemployed teacher called Elizabeth, who was present in the room today.


When asked by Mr Miliband to stand up for the audience, Elizabeth replied: ‚You said there’d be food, you weaselly prick! I haven’t eaten in two days. What do I have to set light to to get something to eat round here?‘ She received a standing ovation from delegates and leaders alike.


When former deputy Prime Minister John Prescott approached the microphone, his dishevelled state made it hard to tell whether he was going through a severe depression or a normal week. ‚Time was,‘ he said, ‚working folk trusted us. These days, I’m sure I’m not the only one here who can’t go for a pint without getting stale chips chucked at him.‘ According to Prescott, the answer to the long-debated question of why support for Labour had spent so long alternating between stagnation and decline was actually quite simple: ‚We’re shit. Simple as that. Working people don’t vote for us because they’re not masochists, and posh people would rather vote for proper Tories. If our Ed were to shoot himself, his approval rating would probably double.‘


It is unclear what reaction Prescott expected to his offhand remark about Leader Ed Miliband committing suicide. Sources close to the leadership, however, report that the telephone lines were jammed by offers of assistance from the general public.


Like the other speakers at the conference, Prescott appeared uncertain how to turn things around for what he dubbed ‚this weak-as-piss apology for a Labour Party‘, but pledged his support to the leadership proposal that, if adopted, would allow any member of the public, for a one-off contribution of only £3, to punch any member of the Shadow Cabinet in the face.


The conference closed on a high note, as former Foreign Secretary and current fugitive from justice Jack Straw shouted over jeers and dodged pound coins to appeal to the delegates and the public at large: ‚Don’t vote for us. Don’t associate with us. Stay well back from us. If you see us, cross the street. We’re the fucking plague. If you like the policies of the past thirty years, vote Tory. They’re better at it. If you want something decent, I recommend you break off and form your own country, because we’ve nothing to offer you.‘ After all, Straw concluded, ‚You wouldn’t pop down Halford’s for a kebab, either, would you?‘