Tory luminaries pierce gloom of Orwellian nanny state

The Michael Howard Politically Incorrect Tour has got off to a cracking start at an informal reception in South London, where the Tory leader spent a lively afternoon chatting to a wide cross-section of the urban community and treating them to a refreshing taste of what life in a post-PC world may be like.

The event marked the launch of an historic counter-offensive against the humourless PC busybodies whose over-protective interference in every aspect of daily life has transformed a once lighthearted nation into a quasi-Communist régime almost devoid of any spark of joy. Mr Howard will be criss-crossing the country over the next few weeks with a full complement of Shadow Cabinet colleagues and indulging in the kind of traditional repartee that has been depressingly absent from public debate in recent years but is all set to blossom again under Tory rule.

First up for a tête-à-tête with the Conservative leader was youth worker Clarence King, who queried Howard's recent advice to the police urging them to boost their record on stop and search by doing it as often as they possibly could, provided they didn't keep any records. Acknowledging the improvement in crime-solving efficiency that this would bring, Mr King nevertheless worried it was going to make his own job as a community leader more difficult.

"Oh absolutely," Mr Howard agreed. "It'll be tough for all nig-nogs." Then, aware of a possible blunder, he sought to clarify the matter. "You are a nig-nog aren't you?" he asked, and moved in a step closer for a clear diagnosis. "Yes, I'm afraid the tell-tale signs of nig-nogginess are all too apparent," he commiserated. "But perhaps a second opinion is in order. What do you think, David?"

The Shadow Home Secretary scanned the poor fellow's features and nodded grimly as fellow Conservative spokesmen tried gamely to suppress their titters. Mr Howard then surprised all of them with a heroic gesture, putting his arm around the crestfallen constituent and consoling him with a soothing reflection. "Don't worry, lad. We can send you back home instead where you can have all the bananas you want."

Meanwhile the Disabled Person's representative Brian Bedsore had rolled up for his own dialogue with the future Prime Minister, taking the opportunity to ask whether the level of disability benefit was under any threat as a result of the necessary but swingeing cuts in public expenditure pencilled in for the next Tory manifesto.

Mr Howard didn't answer the question directly, turning instead to his Shadow Health Secretary Andrew Lansley with a query of his own. "Who let the cripples out? You'd think they could at least fix a curtain around the poor sod. Good heavens, the public shouldn't have to see this."

With Mr Lansley busily taking down notes for his conference speech it was left to Family Minister Theresa May to rescue the situation with cries of "Shoo! Shoo!" and frantic gestures at the inconsiderate half-wit to back away.

It was finally the turn of the formidable Bridget Thorneycrotch, president of High-Flying Women Against Glass Ceilings, to engage Mr Howard on the issue of whether discrimination against women at board level could be effectively tackled by his continued promotion of family values over career aspirations for the fairer sex.

Clearly distracted by the charms of his interlocutor, Mr Howard answered obliquely: "That would be nice. Just one sugar please."

Unfamiliar with the metaphor, Ms Thorneycrotch rephrased the question, hoping to elicit a more direct policy statement, as Mr Howard's gaze remained fixed on her chest. "On second thoughts make that two lumps," he replied. "Two rather luscious ones wouldn't you say, Charles?"

Party Co-Chairman Lord Saatchi guffawed his agreement as Mr Howard elaborated on his vision of the qualities that a female board member could bring to a top corporation. "And I'll take a squirt of milk," he concluded, reaching out to locate the engorged teat concealed behind the pristine white blouse and bra.

He was stopped a moment too late by Shadow Chancellor Oliver Letwin yanking his arm away and setting him straight. "No, Michael, no, you can't do that. Not unless they've given birth recently."

"Oh but dash it all!" complained the Prime Minister-in-waiting, as Ms Thorneycrotch gazed at him in rapt gratitude, her cup full with the prospect of a fabulous damages claim.

Observing the incident, tour promoter Harvey Goldstools was immediately on the phone to reschedule the next day's agenda. Under the revised itinerary the first port of call tomorrow is the Mandela Maternity Ward at Dulwich Hospital, where the fun starts at 9.00 am. Local residents are advised to get over there straightaway and bed down in the corridor to grab themselves a front-line view of the morning's action.

Previously

• Conservatives will win next election: Official
• Tories promise clampdown on sloppy speech
• Tories to unleash stand-up comedy onslaught