I will leave Hector to enjoy his 15 minutes cracking jokes to the media, saying the right things. Apparently this is not a marriage of convenience. I should bloody hope not. It's not even a marriage of inconvenience. We may have spent years trying to screw each over but this is taking it too far. I will not be his gamp gimp. And it's not some long term scheme to merge myself and Sir Hubert together into one all-powerful-all-fizz guzzling-late-night-texting-super-brolly-Knight
Hector really has got power crazy since I was off work writing MY NHS report. I suspect this whole plan is to make sure Sir Hubert and I end up killing each other in a domestic brolly incident so he can take over both organisations. Next he will be suggesting that BUBB and NCVO share an office, though that might not be such a bad idea. By recognising the friction that exists between the two organisations, we can really build on that, get right on each other's nerves and drive ourselves further apart. And I would quite like the chance to rifle through Earl Scalding's research files so I can doctor fact based evidence that doesn't fit any assumption and agendas I have. Or we could treat it like a Trojan horse tactic - get inside NCVO so we can bring it down from within.
What is so good about collaborating anyway? Why can't we all just get together and agree that it is a waste of time for everyone's benefit? It only has any worth if it's done guiltily to protect one's hide. Vichy France had the right idea.
There have been all sorts of rumours about why I am being forced to move in with Sir Hubert and I can categorically say they are all wrong apart from the ones that are right.
I have not been given an order by the Council to leave East Lambeth as my tomato plants are threatening to destroy the ecosystem and my neighbours haven't complained about me blasting out Rihanna records late at night.
And it is nothing to do with the fact that I can't afford my mortgage.
The more I think of reasons why I can't share with Sir Hubert, the worse it gets. Apparently he is notorious for losing umbrellas and just picking up the first one he sees when leaving the premises meaning other people end up getting pissed on. He never does the washing up and hogs the TV watching endless videos of his football heroes, Charlton (Bobby and Jack, that is). The only positive I can see is that at least I won't spend ages picking hair out of the plughole after he's had a shower.
There is one other bright light though. If I am to be forced kicking and screaming to live in Sir Hubert's box-room I will need to keep up a string of meetings, parties and launch events so I am rarely in the house. Therefore it is good that I have been appointed to the board of the Bogg Society Truss, the new layer of supportive dressing for the window of the Bogg Society Bank. That daft old bat, My Great Aunt Maud, has refused to let BUBB and NCVO each have a seat saying we are too similar as organisations. Is she fucking kidding? Has she actually watched how we operate? NCVO exists to promote the voice of the brolly sector whereas BUBB exists to promote the voice of me. OK, sometime, more by accident than design, BUBB ends up also speaking up for umbrellas but in day-to-day terms we are very different.
Still, I have had the last laugh as Maud has said we can share a seat, presumably in much the same way that we will have to share a toilet when we live together. And whose turn is it first? Mine. Take that Sir Hubert. Three years til you get a go. THREE YEARS. I think we all know that that means I am top Knight. So at least I will be at those lovely Bogg Society Trust meetings while you're at home painting your toe nails and watching Holby City.