Political Fables: Theresa May's Goldilocks and the Three Bears
Once upon a time, there was a lovely vicar’s daughter called Goldilocks, who wore expensive animal skin trousers and lovely animal print shoes, and was very fair to everyone who gave her exactly what she wanted.
Goldilocks lived in the house of the three bears. There was Mutter Bear, Papa bear, and their petulant little cub, Wee Bear.
At first, the lovely little girl didn’t mind remaining with the bears, as she was best friends with little Wee Bear (as long as Wee Bear always did exactly as she was told) and there was a certain amount of economic stability. It was a charming house with plenty of porridge for her to eat, comfy beds for her to sleep in and all bananas where a regulated shape.
However, it was always such a bore to follow the bears’ silly rules, or pay them money which could be spent on the NHS and so, after a lot of very careful thought, consideration, and virtually no planning, Goldilocks decided that she was going to leave the three bears' house.
“And you're coming with me!” she screamed loudly in Wee Bear’s face, as this was usually the best way to get others to do what you wanted them to.
“Oh! I dinnae wanna go!” whined Wee Bear in a whiny, little voice, that irritated everyone.
“So,” said Mutter Bear, who was always fussing around other people’s business, “Ven are you goink?”
“Right after breakfast, actually,” said Goldilocks, putting Mutter Bear right back in her place.
However choosing which breakfast to have was going to be difficult.
First, Goldilocks tasted the continental breakfast. "This breakfast is too soft!" she exclaimed.
Then she tasted the stale old austerity porridge. "This breakfast is too hard," she said. “I want cake for breakfast!”
“You cannot have your cake and eat it,” said frumpy, old, interfering Mutter Bear.
“I can! I can! I can!” said Goldilocks, and that showed her!
“So, are you goink to be leavink now?” Mutter Bear asked, obviously getting upset that she was being so roundly defeated by such an intellectual superior as Goldilocks.
“Yes. And I demand assurances that I can come back here, to eat your porridge, and sleep on your comfy beds whenever I feel like it,” Goldilocks replied, winking at Wee Bear, who was now clinging to Mutter Bear’s skirts.
Mutter Bear then made a big fuss of pretending to be confused by a very simple concept that Goldilocks would find herself explaining over and over again.
“So let me get this straight,” said Mutter Bear, “You vant to come here to sleep in our beds but you vill not let us sleep in your beds?”
“I can and you can’t!” said Goldilocks, stomping her lovely foot that was wearing her cattiest of kitten heels. She knew she was going to get the best deal for herself.
“Fine,” said Mutter Bear, “But if you is eatink here and sleepink here you must still do all of your chores.”
“I don’t have to do anything, because I don’t live here anymore.” Goldilocks was very clever, far cleverer than Mutter Bear and she folded her arms to show just how right she was.
“You are livink inside zee house or outside zee house, you cannot have both.”
“I might want to leave as well,” piped up Papa Bear in his outrageous French accent as he sat slowly spreading his brie on a baguette.
“Oh, don’t you start,” replied Mutter Bear who thought brie a silly cheese and preferred good, plain Emmental.
“What could go wrong?” Goldilocks didn’t thinK
“I demand access to the house,” said Goldilocks, demonstrating the kind of strong and impressive leadership The Daily Mail liked. “Or you’ll regret it! ” she laughed, then tossed her head back as far as it would go and emitted a defiant cackle.
But the stupid bears had stopped listening. It was almost as if Goldilocks’ constant demands and inability to see any other point but hers had annoyed them.
“Right, that’s it. I’m leaving!” She grabbed hold of her best friend in the world, who would happily stick by her no matter what and dragged Wee Bear kicking and screaming from the house, whereupon Mutter Bear slammed the door behind them grumbling something about ‘changing zee locks’ and ‘fuckin’ English’.
As Goldilocks started to skip down the road to freedom, she really felt that she had taken back control. Now she could have bananas any shape she wanted! However, Wee Bear wriggled from her claw-like grip and ran back to the house, full of tears, and started banging on the door, demanding to be let back in.
“Silly Wee Bear,” said Goldilocks. It wasn’t in Wee Bear’s economic self-interest to be so rude to her.
As she looked around at the deep dark wood, Goldilocks wondered about all the wonderful opportunities that awaited her, knowing that whenever she wanted to she could just walk back into the three bears’ house because they needed her more than she needed them.
Now, just as Goldilocks was beginning to feel hungry and cold from the lack of porridge, she was greeted by a very rich man, with extraordinary golden hair.
“You wanna come up to my penthouse?” he asked, “It’s a great penthouse, it really is, it’s the best!”
The strange man grabbed Goldilocks her by her hand and led her to his golden tower. “What could go wrong?” Goldilocks didn’t think.
There in the strange man’s tower she lived happily ever after with golden curtains, golden bedclothes and as many golden showers as she could stand.
About the author
As well as contributing to Disclaimer, Holly has published several comic short stories with Black Coffey, and has been known to write and perform stand-up comedy at festivals and charity gigs. Her first play for the radio is in production with Frequency Theatre, and she is currently working on a full-length play for the stage.
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