Monday
I don’t know why they’re so embarrassed about me. I’m bloody lovely. Bit dusty, granted, but I’m much more spacious than that other kitchen upstairs. Although I’ve never actually been up there to see it. Because I’m a kitchen.
To be honest, I always thought I’d be the main kitchen. Ever since my first bits of lino went down, I dreamed of being the kitchen of the leader of the Labour party. And the other kitchen, the smaller kitchen, the frankly less impressive kitchen; well, I suppose he was always in my shadow. Nobody ever thought he’d be the main kitchen. It was my destiny. And he’s a bit funny-looking.
Suddenly, though, there he was, sticking a knife in my back. Well, a whole bunch of knives. In my back cupboard. And it technically wasn’t him who did it. Still. I think everybody knows I would have made a better main kitchen, but it’s too late now. So these days I just hang around. For a while, I thought I might move to America. But I can’t. Because I’m a kitchen.
Tuesday
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Actually, Ed has popped down twice in the past year. I keep hoping he might come back.
Most recently, he sat at my table for hours writing a speech. Then he went away, but left behind a whole page of it, with the word “DEFICIT” at the top. And I always thought he might come back for it. But he never did.
There was also that time when he came down here with a mirror, and a shopping bag, and a pan. The mirror went on the table, balanced against a colander. Then he fired up the hob, fried a whole packet of bacon, and put every rasher in a separate bap. Then he ate each one, slowly, staring at himself in the mirror as he did so. Then he went away. No idea what that was about.
Wednesday
Once, now I think of it, I even entertained. Well, sort of. That was the abortive kitchen supper with the Cooper-Ballses. I think one of the kids must have let them in. They came down here, turned on the lights, looked a bit bewildered, and sat at the table. After a while, they started joking about where Ed and Justine could be. Then they went all quiet. Then they joked a bit more. Then they started getting angry.
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“He’s a maniac,” said Ed Balls. “What are we doing here?”
“Maybe it wasn’t tonight?” said Yvette Cooper.
“Somebody must be here?” said Balls.
Then they went quiet again. Then, just before they left, they had a brief row about how Ed would fill his Cabinet. With old plates, as it happens, and back issues of Tribune. Not sure why they didn’t just look.
Thursday
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This evening there were some journalists peering through my windows. I could hear them outside, discussing whether I might be a bathroom. But then one of them pointed a torch, and saw my old Aga. He seemed very pleased.
Friday
Drama! Ed came down, along with another guy who looked quite angry. Maybe a press secretary?
“I’d totally forgotten about this place!” said Ed. “It’s been months! When they said two kitchens, I thought they meant our one in Doncaster!”
“Oh my God,” said the other guy. “You’ve got three kitchens.”
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“Actually,” said Ed, “there might be two in Doncaster.”
“Four kitchens?” said the other guy, and looked a bit pale.
“Relax,” said Ed. “We’ll just propose a law. No second kitchens! Wait, better still! Directly elected second kitchens!”
“I’m not sure if you’re joking or not,” said the press guy.
“Nor am I,” said Ed.
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*according to Hugo Rifkind