Poor old Dicky. Always the bridesmaid but never the bride.Discarded by his clog-dancing ex-fake fiancée Simone Clarke, dumped by someone he claimed to have shagged via the internet and left with only an unidentified item of intimate apparel that he claims once belonged to the unfortunate Tilda Swinton, he now leads a lonely and unutterably tedious life, brightened only by the consumption of vast quantities of alcohol and the occasional fight with a Welsh rugby player.
Constantly laughed and pointed at in the street for his bizarre taste in shabby suits and his peculiarly Mark Collett-like sideburns, the laughter follows the intrepid Dicky into the London Assembly, where he talks gibberish simply because it amuses Mayor Boris Johnson, and shares the odd sandwich with
But Dicky's dull, repetitive life may be about to change. After a triumphant demonstration yesterday outside the home of Home Secretary Jacqui Smith, which drew a massive crowd of er, four idiots and for some obscure reason a half-naked female, Dicky has decided to come out to Lancaster Unity. No, not about that. He has at last confessed that he has been surviving on his pitiful pay as an Assembly Member by moonlighting as a mobile kissogram.
Although he's only been doing the job for the past three months, so far he has been able to tuck a staggering 23p (and a dented euro) away into his pension fund. Rather more successful is his ongoing bet with Nick Griffin to introduce spontaneous and unnecessary new words into the English language. At yesterday's disastrous demo, he managed this gem;
'...this taxpayer's money should not be used on frivolicies.'
Bravo, Dicky. That almost, but not quite, makes sense.
