An Encounter With Michael Fabricant

In an embarrassing altercation last week outside Angel Tube, Islington, the bon viveur Rt. Hon. Michael Fabricant, M.P. for Lichfield, on his way back from Sadler’s Wells Theatre, was mistaken for musician Justin Hayward, of the 1960s Birmingham band The Moody Blues. He’s now having to buy a new wig.

 

All started off well with the encounter, as an unnamed gentleman asked Mr. Fabricant for directions to Myddelton Square. Mr. Fabricant was observed to duly oblige and offered the gentleman the directions he required. Unfortunately it was at this point, that the individual paused for thought and asked the M.P. for Lichfield “erm, excuse me Sir but you look ever so familiar, erm, now where is it I know yer from? Oh oh! ‘Nights in White Satin,’ yeah, thought so! Well I be, it’s a pleasure to meet yer.”

 

Mr. Fabricant was quite bemused over this mistaken identity, and decided to put the fellow right. “Good Sir, I am afraid you are incorrect with your identity. I am well known, of course, it goes without saying. I am privileged after all. I am the Member of Parliament for Lichfield in Staffordshire. Michael Fabricant.”

 

Michael Fabricant MP

Michael Fabricant MP

 

Unfortunately the unnamed gentleman misheard what he said and was uttered to say “Michael Fab-Cunt? Please, don’t insult my good nature and hearty soul, for I know yer Justin Hayward, of The Moody Blues an’ not this Fab-Cunt guy you proclaim yer to be.”

After further questions regarding his singing on such hits as “Nights in White Satin”, “Tuesday Afternoon” and of course “Forever Autumn” it was still not made definitively clear to the gentleman that the MP was not Justin Hayward.

 

Unfortunately Mr. Fabricant was by this point in a rush to get to Savile Row to buy a new suit, and with much alacrity he attempted to to flag a black cab. It was at this point that the other gentleman noticed Mr. Fabricant’s tousled blonde hair was at a jaunty angle, and looked on in embarrassment as the MP’s syrup fell on to the wet Islington pavement. Even more startling, however, was that Mr. Fabricant’s bald pate wasn’t entirely bald, as on his head was tattooed an unsightly image of what was said by bystanders to be a nude Margaret Thatcher reclining on a chaise longue.
 

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