Pass the sick bag

Readers with a weak stomach might want to avert their eyes on this one. The following quotes are taken from Steven Berkoff’s article in the most recent Spectator. It’s headlined “I was starstruck by David Cameron”. And then it goes even further downhill:

Who do I see striding the room while the crowd melts before him*. Ah, this is an eight-point stag and really, I just want to meet him, since I have admired him greatly since he made one of the most outstanding speeches to the nation that I have ever heard from the mouth of a politician.

He seems to float through the room surrounded by a small gaggle of satellites that are eagerly feeding on the little verbal titbits he throws out. He looks a model of composure, cool, elegant and relaxed and is accompanied by his lovely wife, no doubt freshly exhilerated after his weekly thrashing of Gordon Brown’s ample backside.

I must complete my evening by speaking to him… I’d like merely to congratulate him on that speech since it was a veritable sermon on the mount and imbued with a certain ‘messianic’ fervour.

I stride boldly across the room, placing my carcass almost in his line of vision. I introduce myself – ‘I am Steven B…’, but he cuts me off and gallantly fibs, ‘Of course I know who you are.’ Oh, how charming he is… I then deliver my oratorio briefly summing up my admiration for that now famous speech and how as an actor I could admire it all the more for the delivery…

Pride now puffed itself into my cheeks. Mr Cameron even had the manners to enquire what I was up to. Fortunately this time I had something to say. ‘I have just directed the stage version of the famous movie On the Waterfront. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I remember it well… and how good James Dean was.’ Of course I couldn’t correct his little error since Brando and Dean were buds of the same tree so to speak…

I felt as if champagne was fizzing through my veins as I strode back eager to see the look of beaming admiration in the eyes of my new young friend…

To be continued in Private Eye‘s OBN column, no doubt.

So what have we learned from this? Well, first of all, Dave has seen Octopussy.

Second, Dave can’t tell the difference between Marlon Brando and James Dean, even in reference to a movie that he claims to “remember well”. If GB had made the same mistake, The Spectator would have run a piece about how out of touch he is with modern culture.

Third, I have a feeling Steven Berkoff isn’t a Labour supporter.

* Honestly, I’m not making this up.



Filed under Conservative Party, David Cameron, Gordon Brown, Labour, Media, Politics

3 responses to “Pass the sick bag

  1. I’ve heard a lot of people talk just as sickeningly about our own former leader…

  2. B4L

    What a little turd he is. Gruesome.

  3. Frank Davis

    I’m not a regular reader of his, but this struck me something of a spoof: Berkoff didn’t mean a word of it.

    Despite him calling Barry Humphries a friend, one has to wonder what kind of friend it is he hasn’t seen for 12 years.

    For him to praise, as an actor, Cameron’s famous speech was surely to suggest that Cameron was just acting when he made the speech, and as such hadn’t really meant what he said.

    For him to highlight Cameron’s mistake about James Dean simply went to show that Cameron was a tad disingenuous, and didn’t know On The Waterfront at all well.

    The finale is Berkoff’s fall as he is dumped by the attractive young journalist he has picked up at the outset. Berkoff is telling the reader that he’s a pompous ass.

    Far from being star-struck by Cameron, Berkoff is full of contempt for him.

    But then, that’s probably why you put it in your blog.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s