In
a luxurious banqueting hall in Westminster, quite close to Number Ten, standing
around drinking champagne are Mugg, Gov, Saja, Richi, on whom the many other
Ministers of the British Cabinet who are also present, fawn. Suddenly the double
doors open to reveal Floppo, their Leader. The Ministers cheer and clap him. He
massages his head and grins. Mugg hands him an overflowing glass of champagne.
Floppo:
Ha! My glass floweth over, what.
The others
laugh and giggle and slap each other on the back, and start to sing ‘For He’s a
Jolly Good Fellow’, ‘Rule Britannia’, and ‘Floreat Etonia!'
Floppo:
Most kind. Most kind. But it’s not just my leadership which makes our country
great. We’re world-leading in everything, aren’t we? World-beaters. The envy of
the world.
The others
cheer, slurp their champagne and elbow each other trying to get closer to their
leader.
Mugg:
I say. Did you see what those ghastly people at UNICEF
are doing? Sending food to working-class kids over here! Damned nerve!
Gov:
Ridiculous. If there are any starving kids in
England, it’s a pity their parents don’t work harder. Have another glass.
Mugg:
Send 'em back down the mines, I say. Do they think we're
made of money?
Floppo:
On that subject, Richi, how much money do we have in the bank?
Richi:
Well, um, nothing actually.
Floppo:
Nothing?
Richi: No, nothing at all.
Floppo: Well, what the devil are you going to do about it? We can borrow
some more surely?
Richi: Absolutely. I’ve been in touch with the
Sino-Arabian Global Investment Bank concerning their core offering, the
multiple derived layered confidence bond.
Mugg: I know them. I do hedge funding with them.
Utterly reliable. Been in business since 2019.
Saja: And they’ve funded many last-minute NHS contracts.
Floppo: What interest rate do they expect?
Richi: None!
All: None?! None?!
Richi: None. The only stipulation is that at the end
of each appointed term, we give them one seat in the House of Lords.
Floppo: No problem. We’ll give them Labour seats. Is that all?
Richi: Well, not quite. They ask for no alcohol to be
served.
All: What?! Are they mad?
loppo: Sorry, not possible. Absolutely impossible.
Richi: Their Vice-President Important Customer Relations said he
thought that might be a problem, so they’ve calculated what he calls a low
level of financial repayment instead.
Floppo takes him by the arm and leads him away to a remote corner of the
room where they talk quietly. They return smiling.
Floppo: I shall agree to their terms. (Sigh of relief from all.) I
want a press release about the new arrangements something like:
‘The government is again showing its world-leading concern for visions
and values and is proud to associate with a bank of such integrity, in the sole
interest of the British people in these difficult global times.’ The Minister for Posture and Prating leaves the room at the trot.
Floppo: Now. A different subject. There is some trepidation about the
after effects of Brexit. Shortages and
stuff like that. Knowing our working-class, there may even be riots. We need a
plan to cope with that. So I’ve appointed Lord Rumble of Belch to draw up a
plan for combatting such riots.
Mugg: A good chap. Reliable.
Floppo: Yes, I think he’s a good choice. Loves his food. When we were at Eton
together he was known as ‘The Scoffer.’ He’ll shortly issue a press release
saying that Her Majesty’s Armed Forces will be standing ready to combat any
violence. And that everything is being done to ensure that food reaches every
family’s table. I’ve appointed Brigadier Victor Thump to oversee military
operations. He assured me that he will not tolerate any violence on our
streets. Over to you, Gov.
Gov: Max Hoard will be appointed Minister for
Stock-piling and Ration Books, later today. He will issue a statement saying,
‘Not one person in Britain will go hungry for longer than three days. Your
government will ensure that the British people – man, woman and child – shall
not be without food so long as they have their ration books.
Sajav: As you requested, I’ve appointed Yasmine Aspirinoval as Assistant
Minister for Stock-piling Medecines. And she has talked to Brigadier Thump
about troops for hospital wards in case patients start fighting over
prescriptions, or delayed operations or bed linen laundry.
Floppo: Excellent. Well, I think we deserve another half-dozen bottles. There is a loud banging on the double doors.
Floppo: Who the devil’s that? See who it is, someone. One of the Ministers opens the doors to reveal an old man in scruffy
clothing.
Old Man: Is this the House of Come-ons?
Floppo: What did he say? Bring him here. The old man shuffles
forward. Floppo: Now, my man, what are you doing here?
Old Man: I’m looking for the House of Come-ons.
Floppo: H’m. I think you’ve got the place-name wrong.
Old Man: Well, anyway, lad. I’m ‘ere to see a Mr. Melrose. Ben Melrose.
Asked to see me, ‘e did.
Astonishment all round. Whispers of “Benjamin Melrose is our chief
donor, billionaire, gave millions to the party at the election...”
Floppo: Quiet! Well, he isn’t here. I’ll send someone to find
him.
Old Man: Fanks, lad. I’ve come a long way. From up north.
Gasps all round.
Gov: He’s from the Red Wall area! One of
Labour’s voters that turned to us!
Mugg: Have a glass of champers, old gentleman!
Gov: You are most welcome, my dear chap!
Sajav: A long journey! Care for some aspirin? It's good for aching feet.
Floppo: I can tell you. old friend, we are now concentrating on
levelling-up.
Old Man: Good! It's about time those bloody pot-holes were filled
in.
Floppo: H'm. May we know why you are meeting Mr.
Melrose?
Old man: No problem, lad. The news will soon be out in the
‘Mirror’. (Shudders all round.) Says he’s fed up giving ‘is millions to the
Tory party. And will give ‘em all to Labour from now on.
Cries of: No! No! He can’t. It’s madness! What will we do?
Floppo: Quiet! Please! And just why is Mr.
Melrose doing that?
Old Man: Simple, really. Got involved in a lot of law-suits while
‘e was making ‘is millions, ‘e said. Developed a big admiration for classy
lawyers. Seein’ as ‘ow that Starmer is a classy lawyer, Jim wants to support
‘im all the way to the next election. That’s it, lad.
Enter Mr. Melrose.
Melrose: Ah, there you are, Frank. Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t like
the company here. And I don't like continuous U-turns.
He stares icily at Floppo, looks at the others with a sneer on his face,
puts his arm round the Old Man’s shoulder, and they leave.
The Ministers are groaning in despair, filling their glasses sloppily,
looking accusingly at Floppo and finally inching towards for the double doors
leaving him standing alone, massaging his head.
Floppo: Sic transit gloria melroses….
