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Gilbert Murray MP's Westminster Blog
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As regular readers of this blog will already know, the past few weeks have not exactly been the best for me. Legal troubles have come at me from all sides, and after the disastrous over-reaction to my ventriloquism act at the Deform UK party conference, I am now persona non grata among my fellow Deform UK MPs. We didn't exactly have the closest of relations to start with, but now none of them seem to want to have anything to do with me.
Well, I have decided not to let that bother me. Welsby tells me that he has my legal troubles well in hand, and I have decided to focus on my constituents, rather than to bother myself overmuch with the party political nonsense that has been taking up so much of my time. This means that I can proudly tell my constituents that I am all yours: I promise to devote myself to your issues and be the best constituency MP you have ever had.
Leaving my legal and party worries to one side, I am pleased to report that other things are very definitely on the up. It was my absolute pleasure to be asked to open a new art exhibition at Gypping in the Marsh village hall last Saturday. The exhibition is a retrospective of the work of one of Gypping in the Marsh's most celebrated artists, Maurits Cornelis Murray, a graphic artist who specialised in woodcuts, lithographs and mezzotints. Many of his works were apparently influenced by the unique triple helix staircase at Saint Bodkin's church.
I'm pleased to report that there was a good turnout at the village hall, and the Gypping in the Marsh Women's Institute did a splendid job of keeping everyone there refreshed with tea, cakes and cabbage-based sweet treats. I must say, it's nice to see them expending their energies on something other than covering every damn pillar box in the village with impenetrable knitted covers. On which subject, more later.
I can't say that I'm much of an art fan myself, but I suppose MC Murray's stuff is interesting enough, if you like that sort of thing. The exhibition is open at the village hall until the end of October, and I'd encourage everyone to come along and take a look.
I also had the pleasure of being asked to visit the Gypping in the Marsh Earthworm Sanctuary this week. This is a small charitable concern that devotes itself to caring for sickly and injured earthworms. The director of the charity, Mr Murray (no relation), gave me a tour of their facilities and introduced me to some of the important work that they do.
As it happened, an injured earthworm had just been admitted on the morning I toured the building. Apparently the poor thing had been hurt in a gardening accident and had quite a nasty trowel wound on its flanks. I was able to watch as the staff prepared the hospital wing for an emergency operation, and was allowed to look on (in surgical scrubs, obviously) as the skilled veterinary staff operated on the poor animal.
I am happy to report that the poor worm is now recovering well from its operation, and the staff are hopeful that after a period of recuperation, it may be well enough to be released back into the wild in a couple of weeks.
Just before I finished my visit, Mr Murray allowed me to accompany him as he released a group of worms which had been taken into the sanctuary's care a few weeks ago back into the wild. Their natural habitat had apparently been destroyed when a villager laid a new patio. We drove out to a field on the edge of the village, and I stood by and watched as Mr Murray carefully opened the container containing the worms, then set it down and let the worms wriggle their way back to freedom. It was a truly uplifting sight.
It was a bit of a shame that three of them got picked off by blackbirds within seconds of being released back into the wild, but that's nature for you. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. Well, it's a bird-eat-worm world, to be precise, but you know what I mean.
Anyway, this really is a charity that deserves our support. I would encourage anyone who can to donate generously to the sanctuary's coffers. Young people can even 'adopt a worm' for a nominal amount each month.
Back to politics. I watched the goings-on at the Labour Party conference last week with interest. They really do seem to have got themselves into a mess over a number of things. Regarding all these freebies that Labour MPs have been getting from Lord Alli, all I can say is that if any Lord or Lady fancies sending some nice suits my way, I certainly wouldn't say no. It can be damn expensive, keeping oneself attired in a suitable manner. I've dropped a few hints to Lord Murray, the 18th Earl of Gypping, but nothing has been forthcoming so far from that direction.
I noted that Stephen Timms, a Department of Work and Pensions minister, said at the Labour conference that taking away the winter fuel allowance from most pensioners could actually reduce pensioner poverty. I have to say, I very much like the sound of this new economic theory and have decided to try it out myself to test its efficacy. I have decided that I will therefore be cutting my PA's salary by 20% with immediate effect, to make him better off. I can't say that Beaker is exactly overjoyed at the prospect, but I have explained to him that if Timms is right, he will reap the benefits.
On a personal note, I was absolutely delighted this week to get a call from a very old friend (well, much more than a friend if truth be told): Georgy, my old Russian sailor companion has got back in touch! I lost touch with Georgy back in the 2000s after I was turfed out of Parliament, and I cannot tell you how much I have missed him. Georgy explained the reason for his sudden disappearance: apparently he was posted to a remote, high-security naval base in Kamchatka and wasn't even allowed time to say goodbye to his friends and acquaintances when he left. But now, nearly twenty years later, he's been posted back to the UK and is working at the Russian Embassy. He looked me up as soon as he got into the country, and he's very keen for us to rekindle our friendship. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. We have arranged to meet up in a few days' time in London. I cannot wait.
Finally, Gypping in the Marsh awoke last weekend to find a third very attractive pillar box cosy, again made by the ladies of the Women's Institute. A third one in as many weeks without a hole for the letters, I have to point out.
I'd like to make a plea to the undoubtedly industrious ladies of the Gypping in the Marsh Women's Institute: can't you ladies spend your time making jam instead? It's practically impossible to post letters around here now.
Gilbert Murray MP
I wrote last week that my old friend and companion Georgy had popped up after an absence of many years. The two of us met up in London a few days ago, and I'm pleased to report that we got on like a house on fire.
We met in the evening at a small, discreet, Italian restaurant in Kensington called Blunt's, just around the corner from the Russian Embassy, where Georgy now works as a cultural attache. The waiter led us to a small, quiet booth at the back of the restaurant where we could talk without being interrupted and I have to say, the years just melted away: it was as if we had only seen each other last week.
Having said that, Georgy has changed quite a bit in the twenty years since we last met. He's no longer the slim, clean-shaven chap I first met in Amsterdam back in 2004; he's now more heavy-set and has a full, bushy beard. But he's still a handsome fellow, and his eyes still twinkle like they did in the old days.
Georgy still has a keen interest in British politics, just as he used to back in the 2000s. He was fascinated to hear the story of how I returned to Parliament, and was particularly interested to hear all about the foreign affairs role that Fromage has given me - not that anything has come of that yet.
The wine flowed freely and so did the conversation. We talked all night, and before saying our farewells, we arranged to meet up again on a regular basis. It was marvellous to rekindle our friendship. Will more come of it? I think it's too soon to say. Regardless of that, meeting up with Georgy again has taken years off me.
I would highly recommend Blunt's, by the way. The food was delicious, the atmosphere was very congenial and the proprietor, Toni, was a delight to talk to. I can particularly recommend the clam risotto, which went wonderfully well with the 2021 Burgess Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley that Georgy chose from the comprehensive wine list. The restaurant seemed to be very popular with Russians and other eastern Europeans. Georgy said that people from the embassy often dined there, and at one point, as the fourth bottle of Burgess was being poured, I saw him giving a discreet nod to a couple of serious-looking men sitting at a table nearby that he obviously knew but didn't want to disturb.
Back to Gypping in the Marsh, and the most important date in the village calendar is fast approaching: November 6th, the Feast Day of Saint Bodkin, a day that the whole village looks forward to. Tradition demands that we need twelve female, teenage virgins and a goat for the main ceremony in the church, but the vicar has so far only managed to find seven virgins and is still in need of a goat. The vicar tells me that as each year passes, it gets more and more difficult to find the required number of teenage virgins in the village - not to mention a farmer who is willing to give up a goat to be sacrificed.
So, if you are reading this and you are a teenage virgin who would like to take part in a centuries-old traditional ceremony, please get in touch with Reverend Murray at Saint Bodkin's church. Similarly, please let the vicar know if you have a surplus goat knocking around the place that you don't mind the vicar sacrificing at the start of November.
Needless to say, unlike the goat, the virgins don't get sacrificed as part of the ceremony; that part of the ritual was discontinued in 1967. For eleven of the virgins, it'll pretty much just be a case of dressing up in a ceremonial robe and parading down the aisle of the church. The remaining virgin (the one chosen by the 18th Earl of Gypping during the ceremony) will play a rather more active role in proceedings - a role which will render her ineligible to take part in the ceremony next year. It should definitely be a day to remember for all participants - especially the lucky chosen one.
One last thing. Having covered every pillar box in the village with impenetrable knitted cosies, the ladies of the Gypping in the Marsh Women's Institute have now knitted a cosy for the village post office itself.
Very impressive, ladies. But I can't help but think that your energies would be better directed elsewhere.
Gilbert Murray MP
It has been another excellent week, I am pleased to report. I mentioned a few weeks ago that I was on the lookout for a place to rent in London: the almost constant travel to and from the Houses of Parliament has been exhausting, and I don't want to spend half my time living out of a suitcase in some rat-infested central London hotel.
I had put my PA, Beaker, on the case, but the man has proved to be less than useless when it comes to finding me suitable accommodation. He has suggested three different apartments to me so far, and each one of them has been entirely unsuitable. The first one I looked around could be best described as looking like a crack den; the second was in such an insalubrious area that I feared for my pocket watch as I walked down the street; and the third smelled as if someone had died in there. With their horse.
I was about to give up on the whole affair when my old friend Georgy gave me a bell. I'd mentioned to him last week that I was looking for a place to rent in London, and he was calling up to let me know that an associate of his had an apartment to rent that he thought would suit me down to the ground.
To cut a long story short, I met up with Georgy and his landlord friend in London the next day and we went to view the apartment together. And Georgy was right: it's exactly what I've been looking for. It's an apartment in a rather grand old house in a marvellous location - Cairncross Gardens, in Kensington - with spacious rooms and a very nice outlook out over the square. The landlord - a charming chap called Maclean - explained that the apartment had just been completely rewired and redecorated, and it looked absolutely immaculate. The rent is surprisingly reasonable for such a desirable part of London, too, which will be good news for the nation's taxpayers - after all, it won't be me who's paying for it. Best still, it's within walking distance of Holland Park tube station, and of Georgy's place too. It won't surprise you to hear that I snapped Maclean's hand off. I've signed all the paperwork and will be moving in next week.
The only thing I'm not entirely sure about is the bedroom: there are mirrors on every wall, and on the ceiling as well! That will take a bit of getting used to. Mind you, I suppose it will add a bit of interest every now and again when I have company.
We went out for another meal at Blunt's that night to celebrate, and at Georgy's suggestion, his friend (and my new landlord) Maclean came along too. Toni sat us in the same nice, quiet booth that we had last time - he and Georgy seem to know each other fairly well - so once again, we were able to talk freely without interruption.
It turns out that it's not just Georgy who has an interest in British politics - as the wine flowed (the 2021 Burgess Cabernet Sauvignon again - I can highly recommend it), both Georgy and Maclean showed an intense interest in my work as an MP. I truly found their interest most gratifying.
It's a funny thing, but as the Burgess flowed freely, I thought that Maclean's voice seemed to take on certain aspects of Georgy's Russian accent. Mind you, he told me that he rents out apartments to a fair few Russians in Kensington, so he's probably unwittingly picking up bits of their accent from having spent so much time with them.
Anyway, enough of me wittering on about my good luck in finding an apartment to rent. You will no doubt be wanting to know how things are going in Gypping in the Marsh.
Following on from Reverend Murray's plea last week for five teenage virgins and a goat to come forward to enable the traditional ceremony to take place on the Feast Day of Saint Bodkin, I'm pleased to report that three virgins have so far put themselves forward and that a local farmer has very kindly offered the vicar a goat. That leaves us with just two more virgins to find before 6th November. Please do contact Reverend Murray at Saint Bodkin's church if you would like to take part.
Onto other matters. Despite Beaker's utter uselessness at finding me a place to rent in London, I have decided to give him complete responsibility for dealing with my correspondence. The number of letters and emails I receive has been increasing day by day, and it's simply too much for me to cope with. Beaker has my complete confidence.
So, if you decide that you have a problem that I might actually be able to do something about, please be assured that from now on, Beaker will give your correspondence the attention it deserves.
Just when I thought that the ladies of the Gypping in the Marsh Women's Institute had put an end to their seeming quest to cover everything Royal Mail-related in the village with wool, I noticed that when the village postman turned up in his van to deliver the mail the other day, it was sporting a huge red, white and blue hat. What can I say? Slightly bonkers, if you ask me.
Gilbert Murray MP
It's been an exciting week for yours truly. To start with, I moved into my new apartment in Cairncross Gardens last weekend. The move went without a hitch: Maclean, my new landlord, sorted out the paperwork in record time, and my old friend Georgy helped me with the move itself.
Given that the apartment is completely furnished, I didn't really need to move many things into it. With Georgy's help, I packed the boot of the Range Rover with the essentials first thing on Saturday morning. We then drove down to London and had everything unpacked by early afternoon.
Georgy was rather puzzled when he caught sight of my bagpipes: he'd never seen anything quite like them before. I've had my bagpipes ever since my Oxford days, when I could often be heard tootling away in my rooms in the wee small hours at exam time to relieve my exam nerves. Until, that is, I ended up having to visit the college nurse in the middle of the night, having woken up the captain of the college rugby team three nights in a row with my rather ragged rendition of 'Flower of Scotland'. But that's a story for another day... one that makes me wince even now, as I recall bending over the nurse's bed so that she could carefully extract the bagpipes from my posterior, where they had been very firmly inserted.
Anyway, as soon as we'd unloaded the car, I gave Georgy an impromptu demonstration of the bagpipes in my new apartment - which happily gave me a chance to meet my new neighbours, as they all came and pounded on the door to complain about the noise. I cracked open a couple of bottles to placate them and soon we were all chatting away as if we'd known each other for years. What a charming bunch - all of them from Russia and Belarus, it appears, and some of them working at the Russian Embassy with Georgy. What a small and delighful world it truly is. We all left on very good terms indeed, and I gave each of them a bottle of whisky to take away with them, along with the assurance that I would be keeping my bagpipe playing to a minimum.
Anyway, enough of London for now. You'll be wanting to know what's been going on back home in Gypping in the Marsh.
I'm delighted to be able to report that the Gypping in the Marsh film industry is undergoing a revival: after a number of years in the doldrums, Murray's Video Productions (no relation) has announced that they will be rebooting their most successful film franchise, with a new release planned for next year.
Murray's Video Productions was an award-winning producer of adult entertainment, including The Postman Always Comes Twice, But the Milkman Leaves More Cream; Shagfest at Tiffany's; and African Anal Queen. They received international acclaim back in the day for their film trilogy starring Welsh adult movie star Dai Hard - Dai Hard, Dai Harder and Dai Hard With a Vengeance: the three films were voted 'Best Pornographic Action Film Trilogy' in the 2001 Llanfair Caereinion International Film Festival.
Unfortunately, after releasing this series of massively successful films, the demise of physical media and the rise of the Internet dealt a nearly fatal blow to the company, and they were forced to move away from the world of adult entertainment and into television advertisement production. The prosecution and conviction of their biggest star ('biggest' in more ways than one), Dai Hard, on charges of grooming, child trafficking and sexual abuse didn't help their cause much either. I told the man at the time that he ought to engage the services of my own lawyer, Welsby, but he wouldn't listen. And look where that got him: a private suite in Wormwood Scrubs.
Anyway, now that Dai Hard has paid his dues to society, Murray's Video Productions is planning a return to the adult entertainment market, with a new film in the 'Dai Hard' series: Live Free or Dai Hard. And what's more, they have contacted me and asked whether I would be interested in playing a bit part in the new film. I've long been an admirer of this film series - I have copies of all three films, bought in Eastern Europe, as they were banned in this country - and I'm always keen to help local businesses whenever I can, so I accepted the offer instantly. Apparently the script is still under development so I don't know what part I will be playing, but I will keep you all informed.
Still on the subject of media, I'm very pleased to announce the start of a new series of podcasts, all about our beloved village of Gypping in the Marsh. Apparently an anglophile American production company wanted to produce a podcast series about a typical English village - mainly for their US audience - and they decided to focus on Gypping in the Marsh. I'm not sure that I would ever describe Gypping in the Marsh as 'typical', but it appears that they were attracted by our long history, our fascinating traditions and the interesting characters that have played a part in village life down the years. The podcast presenters, Dean and Laura, have been interviewing people in and around the village for the past few weeks. Apparently they want to interview me for one of the podcast episodes, so I'll be very interested to see how that turns out.
The first episode of the podcast is now available on the Gypping in the Marsh village website, and it's well worth a listen: it's fascinating to get an outsider's take on our quiet little village. Click here to listen to the podcast. Apparently, new episodes will be released onto the website on a weekly basis.
Before I go, with just two weeks left to go, I'm pleased to be able to announce that preparations for the Feast Day of Saint Bodkin are progressing well. The vicar has now sourced the required number of virgins for the ceremony, the ladies of the Women's Institute are keeping themselves busy sewing new gowns for the virgins (purple this year, rather than the usual white), and Reverend Murray is practising hard on his enormous organ each day. The Feast Day of Saint Bodkin is one of the highlights of the village calendar and I, for one, can't wait. I've invited Georgy along to enjoy the spectacle.
Gilbert Murray MP
It's been another good week for me, I'm pleased to report. I'm setting in nicely at my new London apartment, and really starting to feel at home there. The only thing I'm not too keen on is the large mirrors on the walls and ceiling in the bedroom - I can't get away from the feeling that I'm somehow being watched when I'm in there - but there's not a great deal I can do about that. I suppose I will get used to it.
I met another one of my neighbours this week. We bumped into each other on the stairs as I was walking up to my apartment. She made an instant impression on me. Tall, slim, beautiful, dressed in an expensive-looking fur coat and hat, with flawless skin, a most entrancing smile, bewitching eyes and a smell of fine perfume... I couldn't take my eyes off her as she descended gracefully down the stairs towards me. We introduced ourselves - somewhat clumsily on my part, as I found that I was almost at a loss for words, which is not at all like me - and I discovered that her name is Ivanya. Ivanya Maria Tatiana Kumalova, to be precise. She's Russian - like most of my other neighbours - and works at the Russian Embassy as a translator. She has the apartment directly above mine. So now I know who's been playing Tchaikovsky in the evenings - I could distinctly hear faint strains of 'Francesca da Rimini' coming from the apartment above me as I was drifting off to sleep the night before we met. She is utterly, utterly, charming.
As we chatted, I became fairly sure that my interest in her was being reciprocated. I managed to regain a little of my usual sang-froid, and asked her if she would care to join me one evening for a meal round the corner at Blunt's so that we could get to know one another a little better. And what do you know? She agreed, which set my heart all a-flutter. We made arrangements to meet there in a few days' time, when I am next back in London.
I will not lie; I think I am smitten. Well, I think it's about time dear old Cupid aimed his arrow of love at yours truly: it's been quite a while since someone has played on the old heartstrings, and man was not made to be alone. As anyone who knows me would agree, I am nothing if not a romantic.
That chance meeting on the stairs put me all out of sorts. As I entered my apartment, I realised that my heart was pounding, I was sweating and I was very agitated - a bundle of nerves. I know myself well, and I know that there's only one thing that will help me regain my composure when I'm in that kind of state. So I poured myself a swift drink and made a quick phone call to Madame Clang, a particularly strict lady friend of mine whose unique services I have enjoyed for many years. In no time at all she was ringing on my doorbell with her bag of tricks. Let's just say that she sorted me out, good and proper, as she always does. And by the end of the evening, I realised that all those mirrors in the bedroom maybe aren't such a bad thing after all.
Anyway, enough of what's been going on in London; let's get back to Gypping in the Marsh, where I am now spending half my time.
I'm having some work done at Hemlock Cottage at the moment. I happened to mention to Georgy the other week that I was having a few issues with the electrics in the house. Lights flickering, fuses blowing, that kind of thing. It's a very old building, and I haven't a clue when the place was last rewired. Luckily, Georgy happens to have a friend who's an electrical engineer - he carried out the rewiring of my London apartment after its recent renovation - and he recommended that I get him in without delay to sort things out. One can't be too careful where electricity is concerned, as Georgy reminded me. With that in mind, I got right on the phone to Georgy's electrical engineer friend, Philby, and engaged his services straight away.
Philby really does seem to know his stuff as far as electrics are concerned. He carried out a thorough examination of the electrics at Hemlock Cottage the very next day and identified exactly what needed to be done to get things up to scratch.
When I explained to Philby that the problems I was experiencing with the dodgy electrics were really starting to bug me, he laughed, and reassured me that he'd make sure that whatever was bugging me in the future, it wouldn't be my old electrics. And then he laughed again. He's on the job right now, and should be finished within a couple of days.
Good old Georgy: he really does have my best interests at heart.
With less than one week to go until the Feast Day of Saint Bodkin, preparations seem to be going exactly as planned. The whole village appears to be getting involved in one way or another. Having finished sewing the new purple gowns for the virgins, the ladies of the Gypping in the Marsh Women's Institute are busy preparing food and drink for the village feast that takes place before the church ceremony; the church congregation are busy decorating the church; and Reverend Murray has taken delivery of the goat, Betsy, that will play such a central role in the ceremony.
The vicar tied up Betsy in the vicarage garden at first, but after waking up and finding that all his flowers and half the washing from his line had disappeared overnight, he tethered her in the churchyard, where she is doing a very good job of keeping the grass short. I can't help but feel a little sad, knowing what will happen to Betsy during the ceremony; but at least she is enjoying a good, varied diet in her final days. If you can call flowers and the vicar's undergarments a good, varied diet, that is.
I will be providing a full report on the Feast Day of Saint Bodkin in next week's blogpost.
I'm pleased to say that reaction to the new Gypping in the Marsh podcast has been very favourable. If you haven't given it a listen yet, I can highly recommend it. The second episode of the podcast is now available on the Gypping in the Marsh village website; this week, Dean and Laura discuss the history of Hemlock Hall and the Earls of Gypping. Click here to access the podcast.
Gilbert Murray MP
Read more about the goings-on in Gypping in the Marsh in 'The Farmer', in which Gilbert is contacted by the manager of a Nigerian bank who is looking for someone to help him to steal $20 million from the account of a deceased customer, Mr James Herbert (no, not that James Herbert). Gilbert's farming business is on the rocks, so he is only too happy to help out.
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