[Chris O'Carroll]

No 4266
Set by Leonora Casement
Peter Wilby recently described Chris Huhne in this magazine as harbouring “a dark side beneath a warm manner and sunny smile . . . My wife rumbled him years ago when we were invited to the annual January party at his home, only to find he had gone canvassing for the Lib Dem leadership, leaving his then spouse to preside. ‘That man,’ my wife confided, ‘is not what he wants us to think he is.’” We asked for made-up first-person tales about a politician of your choice, in which a seemingly small incident (a refusal to eat haggis, a preference for lemon tea, and so on) reveals the “dark side” of the man or woman.

This week’s winners
Well done. We were unsure whether to let Gerard Benson into the winners’ box, as his entry didn’t seem to follow the rules exactly, but it made at least one of us laugh, which is what it’s all about. So in he went. The winners get £25, with the Tesco vouchers going, in addition, to Charles Curran.

Neville Chamberlain
Chamberlain didn’t really end up well, did he? It was no surprise to me. It was obvious to me at the chaplain’s tea party that afternoon in 1906. Eh? Oh, in French Creek, Andros, the Bahamas. He’d been sent out to manage a sisal plantation his father owned. Never got the hang of it; too idle. Any fool could grow anything out there, you know, with a little application.
The chaplain’s wife had poured a cup with the milk already in and he just said, “Thank you,” and drank it! No moral fibre, really, just like his sisal! He should have declined politely and joined the gentlemen on the terrace for a planter’s or two. Never one to cause any sort of fuss, Neville. Typical of him to meet that Hitler chappie and just roll over, giving him everything he wanted.
Charles Curran

Ed Miliband
Who is Ed Miliband? I see him as an honest and terrific caretaker Labour leader but a man who hides a dark side beneath his warm manner, intellect and self-proclaimed “encyclopaedic knowledge” of the Boston Red Sox baseball team.
My wife, Yvette, rumbled him years ago when we arrived at his party to find him there, welcoming guests and serving drinks and nibbles (with one break to read his childrens’ bedtime story). My Harvard intern engaged Ed in some Red Sox banter – but after the first dozen correct answers, it became clear that he had no idea what Earl Webb’s 1931 batting average was, guessing it was “around .290”. When told it was .333, he muttered that he “wasn’t born then” and scuttled off, with the excuse that his brother had just arrived. That man, my wife confided, is not what he wants us to think he is.
Ben Leapman

Nigel Farage
“How very odd,” I thought, as I looked across a crowded restaurant at the noisy but good-natured party a couple of tables away. Nigel Farage was being feted by half a dozen or so of his followers and was obviously on fine form. The crow’s feet and laughter lines seemed more deeply etched than usual, the eyes more electrically coruscating.
And yet, and yet . . .
While his acolytes were dispatching their gratin of lamb shoulder and moules marinière with obvious gusto, Nigel simply pushed his food around the plate without consuming anything. And his wine seemed more viscous, more deeply red than theirs.
As I watched, a young waiter, pushing his way through the throng, lost his balance and dropped a portion of garlic bread on to Nigel’s plate. Farage recoiled in horror, hissing and baring his teeth. “Could this,” I wondered, “explain his dislike of Romanians?”
Keith Giles

Yvette Cooper
I was once present at an exclusive cocktail party where Yvette Cooper was among the guests. I couldn’t help noticing the stylish black dress she was wearing – what is called, I believe, “a little black number”. “Dark,” I thought. I weaved my way over to her and endeavoured to engage her in conversation but, however wise and witty my sallies, she seemed reluctant to speak and replied in monosyllables. “She definitely has a dark side,” I thought. “Most women are fascinated by my banter.” Later, I saw her by the window, observing the night sky and then in animated conversation with the waiter, a tall fellow in formal attire, from whom she ordered a Guinness. When I saw her leaving with Ed Balls, my mind was settled.
Gerard Benson