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Fast Fiction: Conference Time

You wouldn't believe the things those politicians get up to at their party conferences! Thyen again, perhaps you would.

Richard Mallinson tells a juicy tale.

To read more of Richard's stories please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/fast_fiction/

As Ted Burman MP came down the stairs from his room in the conference hotel, Donna Creem went up to hers. They merely nodded to each other.

Actually, it was only two years ago, in this very hotel, that they'd made love. Now, perhaps, they were just being discreet.

In the bar, a dark-eyed young woman smiled at Ted. 'I'm from Dorset,' she said. 'You don't know that part of the country, do you?'

'No,' said Ted, cautiously, 'I can't say I do, being a northerner, you see.'

'Yes, I've heard you being interviewed on the radio - and you really do pile on that northern accent, don't you?'

'Ah, well, it's all part of mi Old Labour image, luv . . . And you are?'

'Oh, I'm Judy, just a delegate ... So, where's your ladyfriend, then?'

'Eh? Who?'

'You know, the New Labour bit you were shagging here two years ago. Donna somebody or other - from Surrey, isn't she? You were lucky the whips didn't get to hear about it... you being married and ail that.'

The whips? Hey, now, wait a minute . . . Hm, lass, what about having dinner with me? But let's have a drink first, shall we?'

'Or two,' she said . . . 'Vodka, please.'

'Cheers,' they both said. The bar had filled up.

'Oh, oh, watch out,' said Judy, 'here she blows.'

'Hi, Ted,' said Donna, wriggling through. 'And who might this be, then?'

'Oh, hullo,' said Judy. 'We were just,talking about you, weren't we, Teddy?'

'Teddy?' said Donna. 'He hates being called that, don't you, darling?'

A whip pushed in. 'Is that true, darling?' he rasped.

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