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LDL, Cherie Booth and the case of the sprung leak

Over at the Town Hall, Barry Bodgeit is trying to get to the bottom of things

Written by . Published on September 5th 2011.

LDL, Cherie Booth and the case of the sprung leak

BARRY Bodgeit was busy throwing darts at the map of Liverpool on his office wall when Uncle Joe burst in carrying a newspaper.

“What the hell are you doing Barry, ya bum?” shouted Uncle Joe looking at the holes in the map.

Barry could taste sausage roll
and smell Old Spice and the love
in the room made him want to cry

“I’m doing the planning proposal for the location of Everton’s new ground,” replied Barry, as he popped one of those herbal relaxation tablets his son Kevin had bought him, from his friend who hung around in the park at the end of their street.

“Take a look at dis!” yelled Uncle Joe as he tossed the paper onto the desk.

“The Daily Post?”

“Ssssssh!” replied Uncle Joe, theatrically putting his fingers to his lips and looking around, “We don’t say doze werds.”

“What words?”

“Dem words.”

“Daily Post?”

“Sssssssh! God damn Barry don’t you understand I don’t want to hear those words again!"

“What? Daily Post?”

“Is der some sort of echo in here?”

“So we can say Echo but not Daily Post?”

Uncle Joe grabbed a dart from out of the map and came towards Barry. “Look, forget about the goddamn papers, I needs you to do something for me, a special job.”

Barry nodded nervously and swallowed. Last time Uncle Joe had given him a “special job” he’d ended up having to sleep in a white van full of Beatles wigs after being barred from the Devonshire House hotel at three o'clock in the morning. He still had the rash on his inner thighs.

“We gotta sort out Cherie Booth’s leak.”

“Can’t she ring the emergency plumbers at Liverpool Direct?”

“Not that sort of leak! It’s a paper leak.”

“Paper? Should she be carrying liquids in paper? I’m guessing there will be health and safety implications. I should ring the Assistant Executive Director of the bucket department. Oh hang on, we let him go…"

 “Der ain’t no goddamn liquid involved and we don’t need no bucket. It’s a story in da paper. It’s leaked from a stolen document about what Cherie Booth told us before she told us somethin' else.”

“Eh?” Barry took another tablet. Was he missing something interesting? Working for the council was so complicated.

“We asked Cherie Booth for advice on what ta do with the Doc."

“The dog?”

“You deaf idiot. The Doc! Doctor McElhinny! Da guy who was running da show around here for a bit. We got him from LDL and then we sent him back there.”

Barry closed his eyes and hoped that when he opened them Uncle Joe had gone away. He knew that times were tough financially, but he had no idea that you could get the head honcho of a municipal authority from a foreign discount supermarket.

 “Barry! Look at me! Do you understand what I am saying? We need to find the leak!”

“So where is she leaking from?”

“She ain’t leaking! Jesus Christ almighty! Someone else is, I want you to find out which stinkin’ rat stole her memos and gave them to the press. I’m talking about Cherie Blair!”

“Aaaaah! Right, I’m on it.  What department does she work in?”


“Cherie Blair.” Barry grabbed a pencil.

“She doesn’t work here! She’s a high court judge! She is married to Tony Blair the ex Prime Minister.”

“Ah! The one with the big gob! So what has she got against Cherie Booth?”


“This Booth woman must be in big trouble if Cherie Blair is leaking on her.”

“Booth is Blair! Dey is the same woman! Look, all you need to know is that she very kindly, purely out of the goodness of her own heart, and six thousand bucks, gave us some advice dat we ignored until she gave us some other advice which I ain’t tellin’ no one about.”


“And someone in this building told the papers, understand?” Barry nodded even though he didn’t.

“And I want you to find out who did it.”

“So, do you want me to ring the Echo and ask them?” said Barry reaching for the Oldham phonebook. Uncle Joe grimaced and put his fingers to his lips, then slowly shook his head.

“No, we can’t. We is all so angry we ain’t speakin’ to them no more.”

“Way to go, Man. Like Alex Ferguson and the BBC...” Barry rubbed his temples as he spoke, he was starting to feel very relaxed.

“Just see to it," snapped Uncle Joe, cracking his knuckles. "I want to dangle them who snitched out of my office window.” 

“Can I ask what her advice was?” said Barry who was now starting to see colours around Uncle Joe’s head.

“It was about leave. The gardening sort.”

Suddenly Barry understood. He stood up and approached Uncle Joe and grasped his face in his hands.

He exalted in the revelation the tablets where bringing him and kissed Uncle Joe manfully on the lips. Barry could taste sausage roll and smell Old Spice and the love in the room made him want to cry.

“Now I know, now I’ve got it!” Barry sighed, inches from Uncle Joe who was frozen to the spot in shock.

“Not leaks, but leeks. The Doc was growing them in his allotment. Wow, that's wicked…” he paused. “…So tell me, was the dude doing it in work time then?"

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5 comments so far, continue the conversation, write a comment.

AnonymousSeptember 7th 2011.

A nervous lack of comments here? Big brother maybe watching....

Only jokingSeptember 7th 2011.

More like BT

Old Hall StreeterSeptember 8th 2011.

This has gone down very well in the office I work in

AnonymousSeptember 21st 2011.

Schumacher's brilliant satirical talent shows there is life after Formula One. What a coup for Confidential to hire him. Who said the Jairmans have no sense of humour? (Someone told me he's a driver, so it is the same one isn't it?). Brocklebanker

Captain HurricaneSeptember 21st 2011.

It is the ton-up Teuton himself, is it.

Of course if there is more than one Shumacher you've got a pair of old cobblers.

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