News & views
[15 Sept 2012] Sometime junior health minister Edwina Currie has been regaling the nation with the latest instalment of her diaries. A walking embodiment of TMI (too much information), she reveals: ‘I think about sex quite a lot, usually with whichever presentable man I’ve been chatting to during the day. And why not? There ought to be a lovely naked man in my bed and I ought to be playing with him.’
Currie is candid about the uselessness both of her novels (dire, she says, apart from the sex scenes) and her former constituents in South Derbyshire, whom she regards as washed-up plebs: ‘[Today,] a three-hour [constituency] surgery, full of lunatics for whom I have precious little sympathy.’
The Oxford-educated Liverpudlian says that when she got engaged to the Gentile who eventually became her first husband, her Jewish father and nine other men held a funeral service for her because, to them, she was dead.
Now living in the depths of north-west Derbyshire, Currie has endeared herself to locals by opening fetes and cutting ribbons at charity events. The local rag needs to be more supportive, we feel, describing her recently in one photo caption as ‘the well-known former MP’. Now that must hurt. [MC]