The Prime Minister Sulks

Posted on by Lucy Brazier

Accidental Prime Minister Lucy Wastell idly kicked the leg of her chair whilst resting a sulky chin in her hands, propped up by elbows on the enormous desk that dominated her private office. She was moping because her most senior Cabinet members and advisers were at that very moment holding a press conference, from which she was excluded. Apparently, her last performance to the press was not quite as proficient as it could have been and with the future of the country at stake, she had been confined to Number Ten. Lucy tried to explain that she had a heavy cold last time, but it was difficult to ignore the fact that her previous speech had resulted in the effective drugging of the whole of East Anglia, not to mention unintentionally killing off the star of 90’s TV show Campion, Peter Davidson.

Only Cabinet Secretary Sir Edd Evans-Morley had seemed keen for her to take the stage, but he was quickly shouted down by Wing Commander Tom, who was already riled at not being allowed to shoot anyone. Sir Edd was not usually of a disposition to sulk, but today he was moping like a trooper, locked in his own office just along the corridor from the Prime Minister’s.

Rather worryingly, this left the Cabinet without its usual guiding hand of reason and it would fall to Wing Commander Tom to suppress the more imaginative intentions that ministers deemed to be feasible in these circumstances. Not to mention the bombastic enthusiasm of Boris, King of Oxford, who had set himself up as the main spokesman for the Government – despite not being a member of the Cabinet, nor even on the same side as the Government, with whom his kingdom was still technically at war.

Lucy could’t help but feel somewhat miffed that this was considered the safer option, but given Boris’ experience of handling political calamities (and handling other things he shouldn’t), perhaps it really was best to leave it to him. In fairness, he and Nigel Farage had done a cracking job of exposing the scandal of the peace treaty – even if it had meant recreating the whole sorry episode in the presence of a photographer and semi-professional film crew. Nigel, in particular, had gone to great lengths to ensure that it was a production of some quality – even going as far as to order in specialist lighting and some attractive drapes, as well as finding the time to get himself a spray tan. Boris considered himself beyond physical improvement, but did put on his extra large crown for the occasion.

In fact, Nigel had been making himself incredibly useful just recently. His cinematic enthusiasms were one thing, but his fervour for the arrangements of the formalisation of the peace treaty were quite another. Lucy had noted with some concern that the event appeared to be turning into something akin to a royal wedding, with Nigel as the archetypal frenzied mother-of-the-bride – forever adding to his list of ‘essentials’ and each concept and demand becoming more opulent than the last. The whole thing was only supposed to distract from the fact that Tony Blair had been murdered in the kitchen of Number Ten, but Nigel had insisted that it had to look authentic. There was even talk that she and Boris might have co-ordinating outfits, designed by Mr Farage himself.

There was a knock at the door. Lucy sighed.

“Go away,” she called out.

The door opened anyway and Wing Commander Tom poked his head into the office.

“Are you still not speaking to me?” he asked, tentatively. Lucy sighed again.

“I’m talking to you again,” she huffed. She couldn’t stay angry at Tom. He was the most handsome man in Cambridge, after all.

Tom smiled and scooted through the door, although Lucy was troubled to see that he was carrying a gun. She raised her hands in surrender, just in case this was a coup of some sort. Tom furrowed his brow, before noticing his drawn weapon, seemingly for the first time.

“Oh, this? Don’t worry,” he said. “This is the gun the press found in the bushes. The conference was a complete success. The media is now agog at the revelation of the peace treaty and Boris has provided them with enough salacious particulars to trouble the front pages for some time yet.”

“Oh, that is… good news,” Lucy replied, with some uncertainty.

“Yes it is,” nodded Tom. “It means I can get on with my interrogations. Would you care to join me?”

Lucy considered this to be the perfect diversion.

“Certainly. Who’s up next?”

Despite his fedora covering his face almost entirely, it was possible to detect a wry smile from the Wing Commander.

“Our good friend, the Cabinet Secretary,” he purred. “I believe Sir Edd is in his office. Shall we?”

48 thoughts on “The Prime Minister Sulks”

  1. I’m now of your persuasion (or was it perversion … next on the spell check list?) … really getting into PM Lucy and her government of tricks(ters) with King Boris and his lackey from the ‘other place’ dipping in for peace. Shows the way for Trump & May … no doubt Nigel would like to add his bit too!

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    1. I think this is probably not too far removed from how such things actually occur – although I’m not sure May would allow herself to be sidelined in favour of Boris! I like the idea of Nigel getting into his role as a party planner. It could be a new calling for him.

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  2. I am not sure Boris should be allowed that much power… but as a decoy politician it is what he is for…

    I just smirked a lot in my sensible office, thinking of Nigel’s spray tan and Boris and his extra large crown O_O

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    1. It does make me nervous, having Boris up front like that. But he seems to know what he’s doing when it comes to handling the press! Just need to make sure he has a very short lead… 😉
      Nigel is really getting into things! Worryingly, I can picture him with the spray tan, leaping into action. Just be grateful I didn’t choose to go into detail!

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      3. it is terrifying isn’t it…
        I can picture the scene far too clearly, with Boris strutting about a la Rik Mayal as Flashheart in Blackadder and Nigel attempting to look buff and cool and mostly managing worried and orange…

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      4. Yes, that’s how I see it – Boris with hands on hips and particulars thrusting about… Nigel like a wrinkly Wotsit, not quite sure where to put himself… I’m glad this isn’t being made into a film… christ…

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      8. Unless… we find some quite fit people to play Boris and Nigel. I just typed that and my brain went – ‘Brian Blessed as Boris!’ which would be cool, but only slightly better in the naked stakes! I’m thinking Sean Bean for Nigel – although we might have to kill off the character halfway through to comply with what appears to be cinematic law that Sean Bean never makes it to the end of a film 😉

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      9. hmmmm… to comply wit both the story so far and cinematic rules, Sean Bean would have to be Tony Blair…Or you might have to kill off Nigel Farage, which is not an unappealing idea…
        I am not sure how to incorporate realism and fit people to play Nigel and Boris…

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      10. Bugger, then we won’t get to see him naked. But you are right. If I think of any actors for these illustrious roles, I shall let you know loudly and excitedly. But I fear you are correct that we will struggle…

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      20. Strictly lower case nudity here, any hint of capitalisation and the fuzz start getting involved. I hear it is much stricter in Sussex – I must see what I can do about lifting nudity bans around your way.

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  4. Oh how I wish somebody could keep a certain American president away from Press Conferences over here. His tired “America First” soundbite (and the goofy look on his face while he repeats it) is already old-old-old (not to mention extremely short-sighted, rabble-rousing and insulting to the entire rest of the world!)

    But it sounds like East Anglia has problems of its own to work out. A cabinet spokesman who isn’t even on the cabinet? Who does he think he is anyway — some uber-wealthy American appointee campaigning for confirmation?

    xx,
    mgh
    (Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMore dot com)
    – ADD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder –
    “It takes a village to transform a world!”

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    1. I watched that speech and it gave me the creeps, to be honest. Not entirely dissimilar to early speeches by a certain dictator from modern history. Don’t worry – the rest of your world will not judge you on one man.
      Ha! I think as a decoy politician Boris is probably the best man for the job of deflecting press attention – let’s just hope he doesn’t think he can start throwing his weight around with the Cabinet…
      xx

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      1. The PM has to get something on Boris – you know, blackmail fodder – and let him know that as long as he colors inside the lines, she will too!

        If only the orange-man could be controlled that way. (What IS that, anyway – a bad spray tan?)

        Get rid of the orange, give him some hair and a teensy mustache – dark (or photoshop one of his videos), and who does he remind you of?

        NOW add a few pounds (which will likely increase the double chin too), sit him at a table with a shoe in his hand and NOW who does he look like (once you color-correct for the orange and do something about the comb-over, of course)?

        New game: name that dictator!
        xx,
        mgh

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      2. No doubt Boris has a closet absolutely ram packed with skeletons – I am sure the PM and her team could find something to hold over him!
        It’s a game for all the family! I wonder how history will remember these strange times…
        xx

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