Once again desperately on the campaign trail with two not fit for purpose councillors, Sir Nutkin made the mistake of venturing into the lair of Mr Lewis.
The shy retiring Mr Lewis, the finest heckler in the land, always with an eye on how he can get under the skin of Sir Nutkin; found himself gifted with his finest hour.
On a some what slow afternoon Mr Lewis was idly gazing through his front window; when what should he see but the trio of Mummy Dalton, Shouter Beck sycophantically hanging lose with good old Sir Nutkin. At first he thought it was a mirage or something he had eaten because he never seen Sir Nutkin on the stump before.
MMM thought Mr Lewis I feel a chance too good to be missed coming on. He exited through his front door and with a smile and a hearty hello Nutkin how are you today?
Would you like to discuss with me how much your two flats are costing me and how much have I paid for your holiday home?
The wickedly cunning repost came straight back from Sir Nutkin, don’t believe everything you read in the paper Mr Lewis. Mr Lewis studied this reply for all of two seconds then said “thank you for that you have just cleared something up for me I was just reading in the paper you were a good M.P. now I know it can’t be true”.
Now would you like to discuss with me Child Sexual Exploitation and what and when you knew; at this Sir Nutkin was heard to mutter something beginning with f and ending in the word off and made his escape.
This left Mummy Dalton and shouter Beck to deal with the ever intrepid Mr Lewis; but heroism not being the strong suit of Rotherham Labour councillors they too retreated.
Then a strange thing occurred Mr Lewis’s dog had taken his chance to escape; leaving Mr Lewis with no choice but to roam the streets of his estate looking for his beloved pooch.
By some unfathomable quirk of fate his dog goes by the name of Nutkin. So being the caring dog owner that he is he tramped the streets whistling and shouting the name of his dog Nutkin.
By another quirk of fate who should he happen across once more but the Labour party trio; thinking they may have come across him on their travels Mr Lewis shouted have you seen Nutkin.
Shouter Beck was heard to say “oh f—–g hell” and the Red Barron was seen dashing for his car. Now Mr Lewis thought this would be a good time to finish his conversation with Sir Nutkin; Sir Nutkin thought otherwise and raced passed him in his personalised number plated expensive 4×4.
Thus ended another fruitless day on the stump for Sir Nutkin and his not fit for purpose councillors.
The strange thing in all of this is that I have known Mr Lewis for a good many years and I have never met his dog.