My adventure in Parliament
By Elizabeth Swan on
So Wednesday began marvellously. I used Murder Mile Dungeon for the first time in the morning and then said goodbye to my slightly bruised but smiling slave. I cleaned up, packed up... and then raced across London to get to the sex work protest that was taking place outside parliament. There were a lot of us there with some amazing banners. I was really proud of how many of us had showed up. And I haven’t ever seen a better looking group of people. The confidence, the fabulous clothes, the pride and anger that shone from their faces as they stared defiantly at the cameras. I hide my face. But I think if I ever do the big reveal it will be because of activism and not a ploy to get more customers (as that definitely wouldn’t work!)
After the protest some of my friends decided to go into the House of Commons to hear the debate. Luckily I had ditched my dildos at home so passing through security wasn’t a headache. But I suppose with that many MPs passing through the doors each day the police have seen it all before.
We followed the signs to the public gallery and were then lined up and seated on benches down the side of a huge room. We then waited. There wasn’t enough room for me so I sat on bench two where lots of tourists then joined me. There was probably ten people on each bench and about five benches. By the time the security came they were filled. (Believe me, there is a reason for my over exposition.) Anyway so bench one were asked to follow a policeman. As he wasn’t looking I quickly filed in as well. As did everyone else. The families, the group of Japanese tourists, the Americans... By the time we got to the room there were about fifty of us. The policeman turned around and on seeing us all almost said a very rude word. When he recovered he said “Where did you all come from?” and I felt eyes boring into my back. Luckily by that time the one responsible (me) was past him and mounting the steps before anyone could rat me out.
We took our seats in the middle of the gallery. And proceeded to watch a debate on ivory. Now hang on a second...but when we looked at the TV it said at the bottom of the screen, ‘tackling demand for commercial sexual exploitation’ with Sarah Champion. Ahhh. So they were just running late. So we continued to sit and listen to the MPs talk about doing something about the ivory trade. I spotted Zac Goldsmith and thought it a shame that a man so pretty could be a bit of a tosser. As they spoke about the brutal slaying of rhinos I heard a crunch to the right of me. Followed by another one. I looked down the row and saw that my friend Ric had cracked open a bag of almonds and was proceeding to eat them. He caught my eye and mistook my look. “Ah sorry, you want one?” and then proceeded to pass them down the row past our other friends to me. I took one and put it in my pocket so as not to be rude but at the same time whispered “you can’t eat in here” as I handed the bag back down the row. Ric and I have known each others for years. He is a Spanish sex worker and occasionally we misunderstand each others accents. Which must have been why he then CONTINUED TO EAT THE ALMONDS. And all through the talk of the brutal slaying of animals he is sitting eating as one would eat popcorn at the cinema. After a few minutes a security woman walked down to us. I could hear her heels clacking as she approached. “Sir, you can’t eat in here” The woman sounded like she was struggling not to laugh as she chastised him. And of course Ric apologised and put them away, rustling them as he did. By this point everyone in the gallery was watching us instead of the politicians. I tried to wriggle up the bench to create some distance but it was to no avail. Then came my laughter. God even as I am writing this I have tears in my eyes thinking about it. I couldn’t control my shoulders from shaking as I cried with laughter. This came on me in waves every few minutes. And so my friends then proceeded to try to shuffle away from me on the bench. And as I regained my composure about fifteen minutes later one of my other friends whispered to me. “We are in the wrong room! Our debate is in another room!”
Elizabeth Swan