The Secret Diary of . . . Colin Craig

19:51, May 13 2012
tdn colin stand
Colin Craig


Once again I was woken up from a deep sleep by a bump in the night. I've lost count how many times this has happened and I don't usually lose count of anything, so it must be a lot.

"What's that noise?"

"Go back to sleep, dear," I said.

"Yes, dear," she said.

The noise got louder.


I thought if I tried ignoring it, it wouldn't bother me, and I'd go back to sleep.

But that's no way to live. We can't be prisoners in our own homes! We shouldn't be held to ransom! We mustn't be afraid to speak out! We - "You're shouting, dear."

"Go back to sleep, dear," I said.

"Yes, dear," she said.


Yet again with the broken sleep and the bump in the night.

It happened the night before and the night before that, and I wouldn't be surprised if it happened the night before that, too.

But what good are facts? Something has to be done. Someone has to make a stand.

I looked in on my daughter. She was fast asleep. I sat on the bed. My eyes got used to the dark and I looked around the room, at her tiny clothes hanging in the wardrobe, the little pieces of furniture in her dolls house, her picture books about the adventures of small, helpless animals.


As soon as I heard the first bump in the night I leaped out of bed, ran down the stairs, grabbed a torch, and shone it on the back yard.

I saw with my own eyes what was causing the noise: promiscuous women.

They were breeding under trees, in the vegetable garden, on the tennis court, and under the gas barbecue.

Their faces were haggard and drawn, their clothes were piled in unruly heaps on the lawn and they filled out forms to get the domestic purposes benefit.

"Stop it!", I yelled. "Not in my backyard!"


I drove to the bank and withdrew $450,000.

"Organising another anti- smacking march, are we, Mr Craig?" asked the teller.

"I'm organising a march against promiscuous women," I said.

"Have a nice day," she said.

And I did. Even though the march only attracted 17 people, the television cameras were there, and I gave many interviews.

My phone didn't stop ringing!


My phone stopped ringing. Strange how fast you can become yesterday's news. It's as though it happens overnight.

But I didn't do it for the publicity. Sure, it helps get the Conservative Party in front of the public. As party leader, I have to court the media.

The bumps in the night carried on. I got up and looked in on my daughter. She was fast asleep. I stroked her hair. Helen came in and stroked my hair.

"I love my family."

"Come back to bed, dear," she said.

"Yes, dear," I said.


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