Sketch: A star-crossed coalition
We now know what would have happened if the Capulets and Montagues had decided to patch things over and form a coalition government.
It was to be expected, given the similar privileged backgrounds of Romeo Cameron and Juliet Clegg, that the pair would be able to strike up some sort of rapport. Little did we realise the chemistry would be this intense.
As their historic first ever press conference in No 10’s Rose Garden wore on it became increasingly apparent Cameron and Clegg are in the first throes of a passionate love affair.
Clegg came up with a tagline which, with one minor correction, would have been perfect for a Hollywood movie. “Until today we were rivals. Now we’re lovers.” It’s a shame “colleagues” was the word he used. But Mr Juliet couldn’t hide his true feelings for long.
He was the coy one, having been pursued by his very persistent suitor in a rapid and frantic courtship. When Cameron said Clegg would stand in at PMQs when he was away he looked down and gulped his water. Clegg looked mock-askance when Cameron said: “We’re looking forward to a lot of foreign travel!” And when Clegg interrupted Cameron the latter substituted “no you go first” for “no you hang up”. The sunny May afternoon wore on happily.
politics.co.uk compared the genetic make-up of 100 fledgling adolescent relationships and contrasted them with that of Britain’s prime minister and his deputy. The study’s results are devastating. One hundred per cent of the teenage DNA was replicated in that of these two statesmen. Here are three reasons why.
Firstly, they were thrust together for the first time, relative strangers who have made the conscious decision to get to know each other very well – but have not yet consummated their love.
Secondly, they urgently want to keep the other happy and were prepared to do anything to smooth the waters. Lacking the easy familiarity of long-term partners, they covered their inadequacy with little looks of – as Jane Austen would have put it – esteem and admiration.
It was probably for the best they were standing behind podiums. If they had been sitting down, the urge to reach across and squeeze each others’ knees affectionately might have become irresistible.
Finally, and perhaps worst of all, they engaged in the kind of mock-rejection role play which has all experienced monogamists reaching for the sick bags. Cameron was once asked what his favourite joke was. A journalist reminded him his answer was ‘Nick Clegg’.
Cameron turned to Clegg, who as Juliet would almost certainly have flicked his hair. “I’m off,” he humphed Miss Piggy style. I couldn’t see whether he was expectantly trailing a hand behind him so he could be pulled back.
Instead of running after him Cameron wailed quietly: “Come baaack!” He said it with all the tenderness of a boyfriend who knows his partner is only foolin’ around. Sure enough, Clegg smiled and ran back to his arms. Or rather, to his podium.
As the birds twittered and the press conference wore on the sun disappeared and, briefly, it looked as if it might rain. The weather has been strangely attentive to the political process in the last 24 hours, with shafts of sunlight shooting across Westminster as Cameron entered No 10 yesterday evening (it appears God is a Conservative).
What were the heavens trying to tell us? It is our sad duty to reveal the truth. It seems, unlike in Shakespeare, both men are two-timing the other.
Cameron is seeing a party called the Conservatives. Clegg has an embarrassing and uncontrollable urge to spend time in the company of sandal-wearers.
It is a terrible truth which both men appeared desperate to ignore on this, their first happy day together. All good romances end in tragedy; we fear this story may not have a happy ending.
