The Chancellor’s severe medical condition was diagnosed at Saturday’s meeting of the Conservative party’s 1922 Committee.
The symptoms included losing touch with reality, manic delusions and illogical, incoherent ranting.
Mr Osborne displayed no such symptoms when the meeting was called to order. However, as senior Tories one by one expressed their concerns about dragging many of their potential supporters into the 40p tax bracket, George was becoming increasingly agitated.
He doodled frantically (a later inspection of his drawings revealed that his chosen subject was Nigel Farage with a noose over his neck), muttered incoherently and fidgeted in his seat.
Out of the blue, he jumped up and screamed, “People – Conservatives! – like paying taxes! They ******* love it!”
The Tory grandees present were taken aback. They exchanged worried glances and one of them said solicitously, “There, there, George. No need to get excited, old boy. We’re all friends here, what? Sit down, will you, there’s a good boy. Here, have some water…”
George knocked the proffered glass away with a mighty swipe of his forearm. The glass smashed against the wall, with shards flying all over the room.
“Sod your water!” he shouted. “I mean it! Every poll proves it! The higher the taxes, the more the punters love paying them.”
“Er… how does this work, George? I mean, I’m sure you’re right, but…” asked another senior Tory, having decided that the only way to calm the younger man down was to humour him. Several other 1922ers were surreptitiously whispering into their mobiles.
“There are advantages in more people paying tax at 40p,” repeated George.
“Are you sure you’re still a member of the Conservative party?” asked another grandee who was a bit slow on the uptake.
“I’m not!” screamed George. “I’m not the party’s member! I’m its brain!
“Paying higher taxes makes punters feel they are a success and joining the aspirational classes.
“That means they are more likely to think like Conservatives and vote Conservative.
“If they are paying 40p tax, they have a greater interest in cutting government spending because they are paying for it. All the polling evidence suggests I am right.”
A stunned silence ensued, with the MPs pushing their chairs away from George’s just in case.
Trying to keep him quiet until the paramedics arrived, one Tory engaged George by questioning his logic. “Are you saying that paying more tax is good for the middle classes?”
“Yes, I bloody well am,” shouted George grabbing his own throat. His eyeballs rolled up and only the whites were visible.
Ignoring the impending explosion, the same Tory continued, “You cannot argue that making more people pay 40p tax is good…”
Another grandee tried to stop him in mid-sentence, whispering, “Oh shut up, for heaven’s sake. Can’t you see what’s going on?”
But the stubborn man wouldn’t be silenced. “I simply don’t follow your logic. What Conservative voters really want is the same as all voters – that is to pay less tax, not more…”
Suddenly George climbed on top of his chair and raised his right arm in the manner of the bronze Richard I outside the Houses. “You’re betraying the party, you reprobate!” he thundered.
“The people who are betraying the party are not me but those who have abandoned our roots,” objected the parliamentarian who still wasn’t getting it.
George foamed at the mouth, jumped on the conference table and tried to kick the man in the face. All those present converged on him and after a brief scuffle managed to pin him down to the tabletop.
At that point two burly young men in white coats rushed in and expertly squeezed George into a straitjacket. As he was being carried out of the room the Chancellor was singing at the top of his voice, “…frustrate their knavish tricks…”
Now, I admit that my account of the incident features a few made-up details added for colour. But the essence is true: this was exactly what the Chancellor declared at the meeting of the 1922 Committee, the inner sanctum of the Tory parliamentary party.
I’m only surprised that he didn’t develop his argument to the logical conclusion that, ergo, introducing a 100p tax on all income will guarantee a Tory landslide. Perhaps George’s illness is only in its initial stages and he’ll come round to that way of thinking later.
As to his colleagues’ stunned reaction to his insane claims, it was verbatim as I’ve described – apart from their calling for an ambulance. But then a writer must be allowed to indulge in wishful thinking every now and then.