Hugh Reilly: More pay and longer holidays … so, can I count on your vote?

Published on Tuesday 26 May 2009 19:02

I ALWAYS had the nagging suspicion that Michael Martin's elevation to the post of Speaker was something of triumph for the government's policy of social inclusion.

Last week, he resigned, but did he jump or was he pushed? Well, he wasn't so much pushed as whacked by Westminster "Goodfellas" and bundled into the trunk of a ministerial car to be driven to a remote location. Inside that dark trunk, one can only imagine what was going through the mind of Gorbals Mick: "Can I claim mileage allowance for this journey?"

There will be a by-election in his constituency, Glasgow North East, a deprived community where many men have struggled to find meaningful employment since sewing mailbags in prisons was abolished.

As a concerned constituent, I am putting myself forward for election; after all, being an MP is the only public sector job that offers me higher pay and even greater holiday entitlement.

In England, TV personalities and consumer-champions such as Esther Rantzen and Lynn Faulds Wood (I've never heard of her either) say they may stand against rotten politicians. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't apprehensive that a local celebrity in Springburn may put himself forward and capture the protest vote I'm relying on.

A pal who might be a possible rival is wee Joe, who has appeared in River City and some dodgy, monochrome, low-budget, independent films. He is an ambitious thespian who once secured an acting job in Taggart playing a cadaver in a mortuary, but was thrown off the set when he pestered the director for some dialogue.

I possess transferable skills that would make me a wonderful MP. For example, as a teacher, I am accustomed to class politics, whereby I stand uttering pearls of wisdom, while, all around me, my audience natter to one another.

On a daily basis, I wave worksheets at my kids who shake their heads and jab digits of disapproval in my direction. Committee work in the Mother of Parliaments would not faze me. I've sat on all manner of school committees and have the haemorrhoids to prove it.

As a man of the people, I would not flinch from taking the tough decisions that need to be taken and pledge to use the same decision-making procedure used to great effect by education directorates – make the choice behind closed doors and organise a sham consultation exercise in order to tick a Key Performance Indicator box that says the workforce participated in the process.

Naturally, I would not forget my roots. As an elected member, I would make regular visits to schools in my constituency and, with as much sincerity as I could muster, listen intently to the concerns of demoralised dominies, before jumping in my chauffeur-driven car to my next displacement activity.

Years of taking orders from headmaster and principal teachers means I would have no problem taking the whip.

An aspiration of mine would be to rid the public of the notion that teachers turned politicians are boring, complaining gits who deliver speeches in a dull monotone. I am aware that ex-teacher (and Oxfam chugger) Iain Gray, a representative who makes Ken Barlow seem like Russell Brand on acid, would undermine my position.

Being a veteran of parents' evenings, I have the interpersonal skills to tell people who attend my surgery what they want to hear. Crime? I'm on the case. MRSA? I'll be at BBC headquarters barking soundbites across the table to Jackie Bird. Homeless? If I'd three houses, I'd give you one, but unfortunately I only have my main residence and second home.

I'm only dreaming. Glasgow North East, twinned with Chechnya, is rock-sold Labour, a seat where a monkey wearing a red rosette would be elected.

Hence, to win the Speaker's seat, I've order-order-ordered (slight stammer, sorry) a chimpanzee suit from a fancy dress hire shop and eagerly await the verdict of the electorate.