The saga of the second kitchen

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Once upon a time in Laa-Laa Land, there was a man who would be King. Young Edward so wanted people to like him and put him on throne.

One day Edward hit upon a cunning wheeze. He would invite ye olde television cameras into his home. Then everyone in the land would see what an ordinary chap he was.

For a little while, all was going well with his plan. Then this happened to our hero …

miliband_kitchen_3232780b When the people saw this picture, they were struck with a myriad of conflicting emotions.

“My but what a small kitchen Ed has! There’s barely room to swing a cat.”

“What an hideous laundry basket in livid green.”

“Why aren’t there any pictures on the walls?”

“It’s a darn sight tidier than my kitchen.”

Next our tale takes a darker turn as Young Ed’s enemies queue up to stab him with fondue forks. In Laa Laa Land, there is a journal known as Ye Olde Daily Maile – a scandal rag of dubious reputation fit only for the wrapping of a portion of cod and chips.

Working for this journal is a wordsmith by the name of Jenny Vine. Upon seeing Ed and Mrs Ed’s diminutive food preparation chamber, she could not resist dipping her pen in vitriol…

The depressing black-out blind gives it the air of a hospital kitchen, and Ed and Justine look less like a married couple enjoying a quick brew together as two consultants discussing their latest case.

And that is exactly what we will get if Ed wins the election. An austere, self-conscious, self-righteous and, ultimately, hypocritical society of socially engineered equals.

A Britain made in the image of that sad, self-consciously modest Miliband kitchen: bland, functional, humourless, cold and about as much fun to live in as a Communist era housing block in Minsk.

Read more here.

No, no, Jenny. Do not be coy. Pray telleth us what you really think.

It is at this point in our tale that I need to tell you a secret. Jenny Vine is the wife of Michael Gove who is a friend and sworn kinsmen of the current king Cameron.

michael gove and wife

That same Michael Gove whose castle in Notting Hill is said to be worth more than a million British pounds. Not to mention his other homes. Or the basement he wanted to build under his Notting Hill home.

Verily you could not make it up. I swear you could not.

Next into our tale comes another wordsmith. Jenni Russell leaps to the defence of Edward, telling the world that this is only the smaller of his two kitchens. He has another larger kitchen in the basement.

With friends like that …

And now Laa-Laa Land goes kitchen crazy. Other men who would be king proclaim that they don’t have two kitchens. Their mansions have only one kitchen, like the humblest peasant in the land. Who could possibly want for more than one kitchen?

Young Edward, is a fake, they say. He is not a man of the people. He can’t possibly know what it is like to survive with only one kitchen.

Gentle reader, we need to call a halt before our tale gets any murkier. Let us put aside the silliness of silly people. Let us tell us how it is.

Before too long we will be called to choose a king. Shall we keep king Cameron or elect another in his place?

Truth be told, all the men who would be king are wealthy. All live in grand houses. Whether they have one kitchen or two, we can be assured that their ovens are German, their worktops are marble and the whole thing was tastefully designed by artisans. And there will be Dom Perignon in their walk-in refridgidaires.

But would we have it any other way? Should any of us achieve such wealth we would also want a trophy kitchen. And do we not want our kings to be successful?

Let us not forget that Young Edward’s house is five storeys’ tall. With a kitchen in the basement, who would not want for a second kitchen nearby to the room of living? Better that than a beer fridge by the sofa.

Let us choose our King by the things that are important – how wisely they will rule the land, not the colour (or number) of their kettles.

And let us banish these harpies who claim to be journalists but who clearly do not have a clue about what really matters.

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