RICHARD LITTLEJOHN: When True Blue constituencies are turning red, Conservatives must be in trouble
First Rod Stewart, now even Terry and June are turning their backs on the Tories. Voters resembling the sitcom characters, played by Terry Scott and June Whitfield, are switching their allegiance to Labour.
The show ran from 1979, the year Mrs Thatcher became PM, to 1987, the year of her third landslide victory.
Terry and June were a typical middle-class, middle-aged, married couple, living in Purley, Surrey, heart of stockbroker country. Along with other BBC comedies, such as The Good Life and Ever Decreasing Circles, Terry And June epitomised ‘small-c ‘and ‘big-C’ Conservative Britain.
But now a new survey of 9,000 people finds that middle-aged suburbanites are deserting the Tories in droves. Not only are they worried about the cost of living, they are increasingly embracing fashionable woke attitudes.
First Rod Stewart, now even Terry and June are turning their backs on the Tories. Voters resembling the sitcom characters, played by Terry Scott and June Whitfield, are switching their allegiance to Labour
When True Blue constituencies in the Gin’n’Jag belt are turning red, the Conservatives must be in even more trouble than we thought.
Rod Stewart set the alarm bells ringing when he called in to a Sky News debate urging Rishi to stand down and give Keir Starmer a chance.
Stewart, a long-time Tory supporter, was tipped over the edge by the crisis in the NHS. His intervention made the headlines, but those of us who listened a little longer to the programme discovered the disillusion went far deeper. Terry and June aren’t the only ones who have had enough.
Our next caller is a Mrs Margo Leadbetter, from Surbiton.
Hello? There you are. I like to think of myself as the silent majority. I’m not one for calling television stations but I just heard that singer, Andy Stewart, and I couldn’t agree more. The NHS is an absolute disgrace.
Rod Stewart set the alarm bells ringing when he called in to a Sky News debate urging Rishi to stand down and give Keir Starmer a chance
Jerry has been tearing what’s left of his hair out trying to get an appointment to see a GP about his, well it doesn’t matter what exactly.
Ever since he was, er, let go by the agency, we simply can’t afford to go private any more.
And Dolly Mountshaft, from the Pony Club, has been waiting more than a year to get a gastric band fitted. She’d be better off going to a vet.
I’ve been forced to abandon my weekly Waitrose delivery and shop at something called Aldi.
Have you seen the price of quinoa these days? At this rate, one will have to take in washing to make ends meet and we’ll be forced to dig up the hydrangeas to grow our own vegetables.
I’m beginning to think Tom and Barbara next door had the right idea all along.
Terry and June were a typical middle-class, middle-aged, married couple, living in Purley, Surrey, heart of stockbroker country. Along with other BBC comedies, such as The Good Life and Ever Decreasing Circles, Terry And June epitomised ‘small-c ‘and ‘big-C’ Conservative Britain
Thank you, Margo. On line two, we have Mr Alf Garnett, from Wapping.
Right, my dear. Now listen, you might learn something. I’m a lifelong Tory, King and Country. Enoch was right, we’ve got far too many foreigners here. Stands to reason.
I mean, when we voted to leave Europe, we was told we were taking back control of our borders. Remember Brexit Means Brexit? Silly Moo. That’s a bloody laugh, innit. Boatloads of the buggers arriving every day across the English Channel.
And what does this so-called Conservative Government do about it? Nuffink, that’s what. Might just as well give that Scouse git’s Labour lot a go.
Let’s go to Torquay and Mr Basil Fawlty, who runs a hotel.
Hotel? That’s what you call it, is it? More like a hostel these days, ever since it was commandeered by the Government to house asylum seekers landing on the beach at Paignton.
Talk about lowering the tone. I thought the Germans and Americans were bad enough. But these Albanians. Absolute riff-raff.
They’ve eaten me out of Waldorf Salads and drunk the bar dry. And don’t mention lockdown. I mentioned it once, but I think I got away with it. Didn’t get a penny, fell through the safety net. Manuel went back to Barcelona after Brexit and I can’t hire staff for love nor money.
Energy bills through the roof, corporation tax going up. That’s it, I’m off. Never voting Tory again.
Mr Martin Bryce is in the Mole Valley. Works in valves and runs the Neighbourhood Watch.
Yes, hello. Thank you for taking my call. I’ve always been a ‘small-c’ conservative, a sort of JFK conservative if you like, even though he was a Democrat, if you get my drift. Ask not what your neighbourhood can do for you, ask what you can do for your neighbourhood.
(Get on with it, Martin — Ann.)
Right, well. As chairman of the Neighbourhood Watch, I try to work closely with the police, but these days I find they’re simply not interested in what I call everyday crime. For instance, when Howard and Hilda had their lawnmower stolen by members of the, er, travelling community, they didn’t bother investigating.
Yet when we complained, and said we knew who the culprits were, they turned up in a rainbow-painted patrol car, blues and twos blazing, accused us of committing a hate crime and threatened to arrest Howard for racism.
I’m toying with the Lib Dems next time, but Hilda says any more of this and she’s voting BNP.
More bad news from Middle England for the Tories. Is there anyone going to vote Conservative next time? Let’s ask Mr Wolfie Smith, from Tooting.
Right on, sister. Call out the instigators, because there’s something in the air. We’ve got to get together sooner or later, because the revolution’s here. And you know it’s Right!
A general strike, millions being paid to sit at home doing nothing, taxes at their highest since World War II, record public spending, open borders, unlimited immigration, drugs effectively legalised, cops off the street, Net Zero, thousands of millionaires fleeing the country . . .
What’s not to like? This is what we’ve been waiting for.
Power to the People! Vote Tory!
A pop-up wash and brush-up
A maintenance worker was killed after being crushed while working on a ‘telescopic toilet’ outside the Palace Theatre in London’s West End.
A telescopic toilet is a pop-up urinal which emerges from the pavement late at night to stop revellers being caught short in the street.
Ever since councils started closing old-fashioned public conveniences, they’ve resorted to ever more expensive and elaborate alternatives. One of my first columns for the Evening Standard 35 years ago was about a tramp who went to sleep in one of those new fangled, French-style, free-standing, self-contained, self-cleaning toilets, installed by Westminster Council.
He wasn’t harmed, but when police eventually rescued him he had been soaped, rinsed and blow-dried half a dozen times. It was the cleanest he’d been in years.
Laughed out loud at the bizarre photo reconstruction which set out, and failed, to prove that Air Miles Andy couldn’t possibly have frolicked in a bath with Virginia Giuffre. Who was that masked man? Or masked woman, come to that. It could have been an old snap of John Major and Edwina Currie.