The Time Machine

Satire / 3 February 2017

SAVAGE, UCLU’s Premier Arts and Culture Journal, Interviews Ed Balls

Anonymous

Always at the vanguard of the London culture scene, UCLU’s arts journal “SAVAGE” presents an exclusive interview with dancing sensation Ed Balls.

I arrive at Former Chancellor Ed Balls’ dressing room in the gilded halls of the BBC, my heart racing with giddy delight. Could it be true that I, William, a mere reporter for SAVAGE, UCLU’s Premier Arts and Culture Journal, was about to interview this Herculean figure of a man? I knock with baited breath, until a jaunty voice from within bids me entrée.

As I entrée, the great man is hunched over his MacBook, one leg suspended in a cast. “I’m just crafting my next foray into the Twittersphere,” he says over his shoulder. I watch his delicate fingers painstakingly spell out his name. “Please, take a seat.” I sit in the luxurious beanbag Ed motions to with his sensuous porky hand.

He cracks open a couple of bottles of Cava with his teeth, drains his in four seconds and gestures for me to do the same. Unfamiliar with the protocol, I falter and spill half of it down my front. “The trick is to never shit where you eat,” murmurs Ed as he unbuttons my sodden shirt. I nod, culturally. “Let sleeping dogs lie and you’ll fish for a lifetime,” he continues. Every word is pure gold. I reach for my Moleskine to take some notes, but Ed is using it to construct origami models of Miliband’s “Promise Stone”.

I begin to quiz the Chancellor-turneddancer on whether he agrees with me that reality television truly is the “fine art” of the post-Thatcher classes, but he silences me with another bottle of Cava. “Let’s see if you can fit it all in this time,” he whispers. Unfortunately for everyone, we’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Not even UCLU’s Premier Arts and Culture Journal can master the fickle hand of fate. A voice comes through from the other side: “Mr Balls, Yvette’s here for your weekly appointment”.

Ed sighs, and hands me back my shirt. Cradling my face in his bosom-like palms, he intones softly: “An Englishman’s home catches the worm”. I leave in a state of spiritual rapture.

William, Reporter for SAVAGE