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Window cleaners, and five other people you're too middle-class to sack

ACROSS non-confrontational Britain, homeowners huddle together, united in receiving poor service but too cowardly to say anything. They dream of dismissing these: 

Terrible window cleaners

Oh, it started well. You grabbed him while he was doing next door’s and he made everything sparkle. Then he handed it over to his apprentices, who turn up on an irregular schedule and leave the windows streaky or just plain unwashed. But you’re unable to say anything because they’re both tattooed and appear to have done time.

Aggressive personal trainers

He’s waiting for you at the gym. Upbeat, muscular, tireless and determined to put you through hell. Every week you turn up, dutifully, lying about how much you’ve exercised in the last seven days, weighing exactly the same as on January 3rd. Every week promising yourself this is the week you’ll say something. And you do: ‘Another 10 sessions at £42 a time? Sign me up.’

Hopeless driving instructors

After six failed tests, they’ve given up on you and you’ve truthfully given up on them. You’re paying an hourly fee to drive around and discuss last night’s telly. But at this point it’s like breaking up with a boyfriend so you both stay in this loveless marriage,  desperately unhappy, with only a 2018 Ford Focus in common.

Uninterested au pairs

How can you sack someone who lives with you? Who is only able to remain in the country because of your sponsorship? Even if she plainly couldn’t give a f**k about the kids and has a rough boyfriend and weekend coke habit, you can’t make her unemployed and an illegal alien as a stroke. All this would be so much easier if she were sleeping with you.

Incompetent dentists

The dentist is useless. The reception staff are vile. The surgery is above a kebab shop. But oh so crucially it’s an NHS dentist which means it costs bugger all, even if you did once see a rat run out from under your car after an evening filling. So you have no choice but to accept their indignities because you back the NHS and vote Labour.

Lazy cleaners

It was a bright day when you jointly decided you earned enough to hire Magda. And for a while it worked. But now, working from home, Magda’s £30 an hour costs you £150 in lost productivity as she talks, shows photos of relatives, and does no cleaning. But if you sack her you’re racist and she knows all your secrets.

'You're locked in here with me': Mike Amesbury MP's prison survival guide

AS member for Runcorn and Helsby, I know how to survive in hostile environments. So my ten weeks inside will be spent as the f**king Daddy: 

Make a weapon

Everyone in Britain knows how to make a shiv out of a toothbrush or a cosh from snooker balls in a sock. Half the Commons has done it. I’ll manufacture mine on day one, and assume a minor slash wound prevents any form of retaliation and there are no repercussions from ruining a snooker game between two violent criminals.

Intimidate

In Watchmen, Rorschach snarls: ‘I’m not locked in here with you, you’re locked in here with me.’ I’ve come up with my own threatening catchphrase: ‘Cross me and I’ll do you like you’re a f**king constituent, mate’. They’ve seen what I hand out to a man complaining about temporary bridge closures in a taxi queue. They’ll back off.

Use my political influence

If fellow inmates help me out with vapes, spice or oral sex, I’ll quid pro quo. My connections can get them a Keir Starmer ‘Change’ mug, Labour Party membership or a £574,000 solar farm contract. That should win me friends.

Take down the toughest guy on day one

It works the same in Parliament. On his first day, Starmer walked straight up to Eric Pickles and kneed him in the corpulent nuts. That’s why he gets respect. I’ll do the same with whichever seven-foot psycho is dominating the yard. With lateral thinking like this you can see why I’m an MP.

Make prison hooch

Alcohol makes you friends – look at my own recent experience – and life inside is one long party. I’ll be manufacturing my own ‘bread lager’ and ‘chateau d’orange juice’ in bin bags behind radiators. When I get out I probably won’t ever need to buy booze from pubs again.

Devise your own Shawshank strategy

In The Shawshank Redemption, Andy Dufresne uses his accountancy skills for preferential treatment. I have an equally valuable skill – I used to be a careers advisor. Once I’m giving fellow cons valuable career insights like ‘Do you like working outdoors or do you see yourself more in an office environment?’ I’ll be protected.

Sell drugs

It’s basic, but it works in the Strangers Bar. Get a regular supply of drugs, make it known, sit back and wait for the other MPs – sorry, inmates – to queue up to get obliterated. Angela’s smuggling me in 200 Tramadol on visiting day. They’ll get me through ten weeks, then I’ll return to my elected position as representative for Runcorn and Helsby.

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