Something Missing, by Peter Morford

A hacker has drawn this extract from the private memoirs of Mr Cedric Macleod, MBE

People tell me I look much younger than my 50 years, that I have the unmarked face of a man with no worries.

            Not entirely true.  To get where I am today, Chief Executive of the largest Quango in the UK, I have had my share of worries and responsibility.

             I have been criticised for having a serious outlook on life. My answer is to say that life is hard and to make progress is harder still.  I have never understood why so many people take a frivolous view of the world. People say that I never smile in photographs and  I say how inane the grinners at the camera appear to be.  Think of the typical “family” picture; everyone grinning because someone told them to. Even worse is the social picture with all the smilers grasping a drink for support.

I therefore make a point of staring impassively at the camera.

            At University I avoided the drinkers. There is nothing funny about intoxication when it interferes with one’s studies.  The strong work ethic inherited from my father would more than compensate for any intellectual shortcomings and I graduated with a respectable 2.2 in Business Studies.

            On my father’s advice I joined the local Council as a graduate trainee in the Planning Dept.  By 25 I was Senior assistant to the Deputy Director of Social Amenities (Social Interface and Racial Equality Department.)

            Two years and a promotion later my parents said it was time I found a house and a wife. Father said that he would be sad if our family name died out.  It was up to me.

            I looked round my office for a likely female candidate.  The trouble was, they all seemed so silly, giggly, only interested in frivolous things like fashion, TV soaps, dancing and tuneless music.

            Nevertheless, rather at random, I invited Betty for coffee at The Bistro.  She wanted to see a film and I obligingly took her.  It turned out to be a comedy. Betty laughed with delight and explained some of the jokes to me. I might have smiled because she said I looked much better when I relaxed. Smiling doesn’t come naturally to me. Comedians and farcical drama have never amused me. Visual humour of the banana-skin variety leaves me cold. As for puns….

            I tried again. Donna was pretty and, I knew, good at her job.  I took her to see Macbeth and she politely told me afterwards that she had never liked the play at school and liked it less now. Still, Thanks for a lovely evening.

            I considered a few more candidates but all seemed somehow to slip away from me.

            To my parents’ relief I moved to a new job fifty miles away. For the next few months I was so busy reorganising my new department that there was little time for socialising.

            Then I met Jennifer. She was 30, a lawyer, unattached, no children. We both knew this was a trial run when she moved in with me. Unfortunately I soon found that she made light of many things which were serious.  Her clients, for example, seemed to amuse her, particularly a regular burglar who had what she described as wit. She had more sympathy for drunks than seemed reasonable for an upholder of the Law. We both moved on to seek new partners.

            By any normal standards my career has been successful. I have a reasonable income and have invested wisely. I am young enough to have a few more profitable moves in my career. I might, before it is too late, find a woman to help me preserve the family name.

            I am often interviewed by the media.  Last week an impertinent young woman on Newsnight thought she was being clever when she asked me “Mr.Macleod, how do you justify your salary of £500,000?”

            “Five hundred and seventy-five,” I said.

            “Sorry, Five-seven-five… when your Department has recently had its powers and function, even purpose, reduced to practically nothing?”

            I had the answer. “Public authorities must draw on the best talent and pay accordingly.  I could earn considerably more in the private sector but I have a sense of duty.”

            She bowled me a bouncer. “Mr Macleod, you’re well-known for your frequent moves. I see you’ve received golden handshakes from the NHS – twice – several Councils and other Non-Government bodies. I suppose that you’d be prepared to move again for the right golden handshake and more money?”

            “Do you know something I don’t know?” I asked.

            “Only joking,” she said.

            “I never joke.”

            “Think what you’re missing,” she said.

            As I left the studio I reminded myself that I was rich and successful. If people said I lacked a sense of humour, so be it. I was having the last laugh, so to speak.