My birthday – will the Corbynistas kill the Conservatives?

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How do you organise a birthday party when your friends are at opposite ends of the political spectrum and want to kill each other? I have joined the Conservative Party, largely to find a husband but failing that a career. I have just become involved in politics this year and want to become the government’s Minister for Addiction and Mental Health. This comes after crashing out of my career as a BBC reporter because of my cocaine addiction and mental health problems. I have sent my CV to the health ministry with entries such as “Lost in Rehab 2005-2008” and “Only sane inmate at the Prison View Psychiatric Unit 2008-2009.” Strangely they haven’t called me back…

To kick start my apparently moribund political career I therefore want to invite some of my new Conservative friends to my birthday party. Unfortunately one of my best friends, who saved my sanity when I had a nervous breakdown, says that all Conservatives are members of a “toxic neo-fascist political party.”  Obviously he’s a supporter of the hard-left Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn who evokes adulation among his acolytes and despair from his detractors. A Corbynista comedian my friend’s routine includes an explanation as to why God has always voted Labour. He’s so left wing he called his only child Fidel. And she’s a girl. I feel a diatribe from him may hinder my political prospects. And he is not the only Corbynista friend I have in fact all my friends are solid Labour supporters.   I too was a socialist until the stratospheric leap in value of my house in Notting Hill, which I bought for £400,000 in 1999, convinced me I was a Tory.

I have now gone from Conservative to Confused as the new UKIP lite incarnation of the Tory Party has made me and many other pro-European Tories seriously consider defecting to the Liberal Democrats. Indeed I was campaigning for the Liberal Democrats (and looking for a boyfriend) in the Richmond Park by election and was ecstatic when they won.

I have thought of a potential solution of seating the Corbynistas at one end of the table and the Conservatives at the other with large signs at either end. I will sit in the middle physically preventing any contact between the two warring sides. Milling around is dangerous so there will be no chatting after the meal or offers of people to come back to my house. As soon as someone gets up to leave I will escort them swiftly out of the restaurant pausing solely to check they have paid. I am still extremely nervous and have put the Samaritans on speed dial (who were very sympathetic when I phoned them saying I was heartbroken as I’d failed to win a handbag on eBay) for the birthday. Will this be the Last Supper of my Sanity?

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1st Christmas with my family for 12 years!

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Today for the first time in 12 years and for the first time in my entire recovery I spent Christmas with my family. In December 2004 just before I got into recovery I spent Christmas Day alone with a bag of cocaine and litre of vodka. That rock bottom was the start of my recovery journey. Every Christmas since then I have spent away from my family. Before I went into family therapy with my father the relationship was too strained for me to contemplate spending Christmas with him. But I hope there will be other Christmases in future. It was the first time I had been to my father’s house since he bought it almost 10 years ago. After practically bursting into tears 5 minutes after I arrived as I was so upset it turned into a fabulous day.  Unfortunately there will be no Christmases with my mother who died 10 years ago this year. But despite my issues with her she has given me the freedom to write which is amazing. I dream about her all the time. RIP