Ed and Justine: what on earth were they thinking?

ACT I. SCENE ONE

A hotel in Northern England. Late morning. Ed, a 44-year-old politician, is
posing for informal, behind-the-scenes photographs with his wife, Justine.
He is due to make a speech in three hours’ time. It is being billed as the
most important of his career.

ED (talking like a ventriloquist, without moving his lips):
Stop staring at my teeth, it’s making me feel self-conscious.

JUSTINE (whispering): This is how the photographer asked
me to stand, or rather lean.

ED: Is he still framing his shot?

JUSTINE: I think so, yes.

ED: He’s taking his time, isn’t he? My arm is going to sleep.

JUSTINE: He’ll be finished in a minute.

ED: But I’ve got my speech to rehearse.

JUSTINE (her whisper turns into a hiss): Oh, Ed, you’re
not doing it without notes again are you? I thought we’d been through this.

ED: It’ll be fine. Conference will love it. I’m going to keep saying
the word “together” over and over again, and I thought I might mention some
bloke I met on the Heath called Gareth. Or was it Gavin? Either way, it will
make me look spontaneous… Gordon did that barnstorming speech in Scotland
the other day without notes.

JUSTINE: But what if you forget key passages?

ED: That’s the brilliance of it! I can “forget” to talk about the
things that are embarrassing for Labour, such as the flood of immigrants,
and the fiscal deficit, and the national debt.

JUSTINE: In that case, you should “forget” to mention the West Lothian
question as well.

ED: What’s that?

JUSTINE: Why should our 41 Scottish MPs be allowed to vote on
English-only matters?

ED: I know what the West Lothian question is, Justine. It was a joke. I
was being f-u-n-n-y.

Pause

JUSTINE: Ed?

ED: Yes?

JUSTINE: Please don’t try and be funny in your speech.

Pause

ED (sulking now): I can’t feel my arm any more. How much
longer is this going to take?

JUSTINE: Be patient. This photographer is meant to be very good. He
does the Boden catalogue.

ED: Do you think he can hear us?

JUSTINE: Photographers don’t have microphones. It’s TV news crews that
have mics. They are the ones politicians need to watch out for.

ED: When Gordon got caught out calling that bigoted woman a bigoted
woman, he was wearing a radio mic. He’d been on the Jeremy Vine Show.

JUSTINE: Well, TV and radio, then.

ED: Justine?

JUSTINE: Yes?

ED: Do you think Gordon is a better public speaker than me? People are
saying it, aren’t they? Since his speech on Scottish independence, I mean.

JUSTINE: Your styles are different, darling, that’s all.

ED: They’re saying he is like a rampaging bull, whereas I come across
like a mouth-breathing, floppy-lipped basset hound.

JUSTINE: They are not saying that.

Pause. They both know they are saying that.

ED: Do you think I should be wearing a tie for this photograph?

JUSTINE: Open necks are the thing these days. Dave. Nick. Boris. They
all do it. It makes you look more “of the people”.

ED: Gordon wears a tie.

JUSTINE: Yes, but he’s older than you. You represent youth and
vitality. Now stop going on about Gordon all the time.

ED: I’ve undone one of the buttons on my cuff. What do you think? Off
the cuff! Geddit? Like my speech is going to be!

JUSTINE: Please don’t do jokes, Ed.

ED: What about when I said I looked like Wallace from Wallace and
Gromit? That got a laugh.

JUSTINE: They were laughing at you, not with you.

ED: OK, how about this then? I’m going to say to conference that I’ve
got an eight-month job interview with the British people.

JUSTINE: Is that wise? You know what the sketch writers are like. They
will say your CV has gone straight into the bin.

ED (frowning): Something else I’m going to say is that
we’re going to tax the NHS to fund people with houses worth more than two
million.

JUSTINE: Shouldn’t that be the other way round?

ED: What? Oh right, yes, yes, I mean the other way round. I didn’t get
much sleep last night. Working on the speech… Tony and Cherie asked me not
to include the bit about the NHS tax. I mean the mansion tax. Mansion tax.
What’s wrong with me? I need some coffee. You’d think the photographer could
have put something in these mugs he asked us to hold. I feel a right mug
standing here holding this. Right mug, geddit?

JUSTINE: No jokes, Ed. I mean it. And are you sure about not using an
autocue if you didn’t get much sleep? This is an important speech.

ED: Don’t worry, Justine. I know it by heart. I’ve never felt more
confident about anything in my life… (sighs) I’m starting to lose feeling in
my leg now. What’s taking him so long? If it were my brother standing here,
the photographer would have asked him to hold a banana.

JUSTINE (taking a deep breath): Ed, you know what your
therapist said about David and the banana incident. You have to move on.

ED: But he looked such a plonker! (Ed chuckles to himself, takes a sip
from the mug and remembers it is empty.) Tony gave me a good tip about mugs.
He said you should always be photographed holding one with a picture of your
family on it… I could have one made up with a picture of Dad’s face. Over a
Union Flag. The man who hated Britain. Not!

JUSTINE (there is impatience in her voice now): Promise
me you will stick to the serious stuff in your speech. And I’m a bit worried
about this plan of yours to leave out the national debt; don’t you think
conference will notice?

ED: I’m going to be talking for 80 minutes — they’ll be grateful.

JUSTINE: What is our plan for tackling it, by the way?

ED: I’m leaving it to the other Ed to field that one.

JUSTINE: Balls?

ED: No, I’m confident it will work. We’re going to borrow the money to
pay off the debt.

JUSTINE (pinching the bridge of her nose): From?

ED: From Tony and Cherie. They’re loaded. Now, don’t forget that at the
end of my speech I’ll lean over and kiss you. Let’s practise. We don’t want
it to look awkward.

JUSTINE (leaning away): I’m sure the kiss will be fine.
Just fine.