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A saga of everyday life in the Big L and a wry look at contemporary culture

By Tony Carden

 

Episode Thirty

 

The attendees clapped. Mary paused the autocue. She grinned her best conference smile. The applause subsided. Yes!

‘…We will ensure that this island is Great Britain. And I mean Great.

…A Great country for all.

…A Great trading nation.

…A great influence in the World.

…A great environment for business and culture.

…With a great future for all … under the Tory Party.’

The hall burst out into thunderous applause and stamping of feet. Delegates rose to their feet. Yes! Yes! Mary felt herself trembling. This is how it should be.

She stepped off the platform and waved to the crowd. They love me. They really do.

As the accolade subsided, she made for the wings. She spotted James waiting for her.

‘Well, that certainly went down well.’ I saw you stone-faced out there I the front row the whole time. This is not what you want to hear is it. The party loves me, not BJ or that other dumb-foot Christoph.

‘Indeed, James, I know how to whip up the faithful.’

‘Well, all you’ve got to do now is convince those who don’t approve of your version of Brexit.’ The traitors, you mean.

‘They’re coming around, as you know.’ To be ritually slaughtered.

‘Like Bernard and Merkel and Macron are?’ What? Why bring Europe into this?

‘Don’t you go on as well. Salzburg was a mistake.’

‘Whose? Yours or theirs?’ That’s it, I now know we need another chairman.

‘You think I screwed up?’

‘Well someone seemed to have. Your Plan got short shrift.’ Totally disrespectful behaviour by those Johnny foreigners. Bah!

‘Tusk is a euro fanatic. He can’t conceive of anyone wanting to leave the EU. You’ll see, Merkel, Marcon and the others are more level headed on this. I’m sure they were just as much upset as I was.’ They’re responsible to voters; they’ll suffer if there’s no deal.

‘I’m sure they were.’ You can be sarcastic, can’t you? Just you wait. You’ll eat your words.

‘The important thing is to be optimistic.’ Or fatalistic in your case.

‘Where do we go from here?’

‘Onwards, of course. Article 50 has been triggered, so there’s no going back.’ Given a choice, I wouldn’t go back to that lot. But I’ll have to. She sighed inwardly.

‘But there’s pressure building for a second referendum.’

‘You know that’s not possible. Anyway, we’re leaving.’ Why can’t everyone accept that and move on.

‘Not everyone agrees we need to.’ She eyed him. What are you suggesting? ‘You know, reverse the decision. Send another letter saying we’re sorry.’

‘We won’t be doing that as long as I’m PM.’

‘Of course, Mary. I think your views on this are well known.’

‘Are you suggesting I court the Remoaners?’

‘Well. Not every Tory voted for Brexit you know.’

‘I’m trying to get a deal that will please even the Vote Remain crowd.’

‘We’re not making much progress, are we?’

‘According to Bernard, “October is the moment of truth for Brexit.”, so we’ve still got some time to go.’

‘What is your strategy, then?’

‘Well, we’ll go on to the end. We shall fight for market access, we shall fight on for fishery concessions, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in our cause, we shall defend our Island from immigrants.’

‘Quite some list you have there, Mary.’

‘Don’t interrupt. I’m not finished. Whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on for Galileo, we shall fight on for reciprocal regulations, we shall fight to maintain the integrity of the United Kingdom and never surrender Northern Ireland. Even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island were forced to negotiate with the EU on their terms, then our good sense, armed and guarded by British common sense, we would carry on the struggle, until, in good time we overcome adversity.’

‘Quite some speech there, Mary. All it needs is Land of Hope and Glory as a soundtrack.’

‘I’m glad you like it. I plan to use it for my closing address.’

‘Ah! I see!’

 

*   *   *

 

Aiden went down the corridor checking the room numbers. He eventually arrived a the one he wanted and knocked at the door.

It opened. ‘Ah, it’s you.’

‘I am invited, am I not, Chris?’ Aiden peaked beyond Christoph to see several others had already arrived.

‘Only if you cut your palm, offer your blood as proof of your sincerity and swear you’ll never divulge a word of what we say tonight—on pain of never being offered a parliamentary candidacy—ever.’

‘I think I’ll just head off.’

Chris caught Aiden’s arm and pulled him into the room. ‘I’m just joking.’ He gestured at the rest of those in the room. ‘You know everyone here, I think.’

‘I do.’ He looked around at the hotel room. It was not large. Christoph’s suit was hanging on a suit valet press. His suitcase stood open on top of the chest of drawers revealing his belongings.

‘Aiden find yourself a space.’

This was easier said than done. The earlier arrivals had taken the available seats and had even colonised the bed. With the seven of them, it felt very crowded. He made for the bed. Those sitting there, nudged up to make room. He sat down. It was a tight fit.

‘Chris are you seriously going to throw your hat in the ring if there is a leadership contest?’

‘If Mary must resign, don’t you think I’ll be well placed to stand?’ He gestured at those present. ‘You will support me, no?’

‘Of course, we do.’ This came from a backbencher Aiden recognised as being a diehard Remainer who had even voted against the government on the withdrawal bill.

Chris nodded in his direction. ‘Then, the next question is: how do we bring about a leadership challenge.’

‘She’s doing a good job of that herself.’

‘She’s riding for a fall.’

‘We’ve got enough support to get Sir James to call an election.’

‘Woah! Woah! Woah!’ Chris had his hands out to silence everyone. ‘Many thanks for your support. Now, we mustn’t play our hand too early. We should just let the PM dig herself ever deeper into a hole with her Brexit Plan.’

‘We’ve got to act now.’ It was the diehard again.

‘Now, George, while you know I agree with your stance on this, we only have one chance.’

‘That’s why we must go for it now.’

‘George, please don’t interrupt. I’m not finished. Whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on for remaining in the EU, we shall fight on for a second referendum—which we are bound to win, by the way—we shall fight to gain control of the party and never stop till we have won.’

‘Might be hard getting a second referendum bill through Parliament.’

‘You mean Cotton’s lot? At their conference, they practically begged for it.’

‘Cotton didn’t say anything for it.’

‘We know his views, don’t we?’

‘If Labour doesn’t support another referendum, there’s enough Brexiter MPs to scupper the idea.’

‘We must not allow that to thwart our plans.’

There was a knock at the door.

‘Are you expecting anyone, Chris?’

‘No. Everyone’s here.’

‘Who is it, then?’

‘Wait a moment.’ He went over and used the peephole to identify the caller. ‘Shit! It’s Harcourt-Smythers.’ Chris waved at the room. ‘He can’t see you lot.’ He pointed at the bathroom. ‘Hide in there while I find out what he wants.’

There was a mad dash for the bathroom. Aiden found himself being squeezed in the with the rest. It was worse than the tube after a Wembley football match.

Chris pushed the door to. It clicked loudly.

‘Lights off.’

The room went dark.

‘Can’t we have the light on?’

‘Shush! We don’t want Harcourt-Smythers to hear us.’

Aiden strained to hear what might be going on in the bedroom. It was a faint murmur. Then a voice was raised. ‘…of course, it matters…’ Then silence. Then another voice, which he thought was Chris’. ‘…I have no intentions…’

The door opened. Light streamed in from the bedroom.

‘You can come out now.’

‘What did he want, Chris?’

‘He’s a slimy bastard, he is. He was asking whether I was going to request a leadership election.’

‘But you have written to him to do that, haven’t you?’

‘Well, I…’

‘Bloody hell, you haven’t, have you?’

‘Well, not exactly…’

‘That’s a bloody disgrace that is. While we’re out there in the firing line, our name in the chairman’s little book, you’re hiding in here unscathed. You’re the slimy fish here, Chris.’

‘I go along with that.’

‘And so do I.’

There was a general exodus for the door.

After a moment it was just Aiden and Chris who were left.

Chris pointed to the minibar. ‘Fancy a drink?’

 

*   *   *

 

INDY REF2 AND THE LOST CRUSADE

Part 3

The story so far…

At a rally in Trafalgar Square, Indy Reff has taken a Banner belonging to a radical Europhile group and escaped with it, only to be pursued by members of the gang. After catching a bus, entering a hotel and escaping out the back, he is running for his life down a street, with the arch-villain Fedora hot on his heels…

 

EXT. STREET – DAY

Indy charges down the street. He sees a sign above a

shop reading “DR. FANTASY’S MAGIC EMPORIUM.”

INDY

Magic?

He glances back at the men and quickly opens the door to the

shop, stepping inside.

Fedora puts out his arm, gesturing for the others not to

follow Indy.

FEDORA

Hold it. Make sure he doesn’t go out the

back.

INT. THE SHOP – DAY

Which contains the MAGIC ITEMS. Indy rushes to

the rear door of the shop but can’t open it. He hears

Fedora coming, and dives under the counter.

FEDORA

Okay, kid. Out. Now.

Fedora smiles confidently and advances toward the counter. He

walks around behind it…

revealing NOTHING. Indy has completely vanished.

Fedora is mystified, frustrated and angered. Then he feels a

shifting at his feet. He looks down and discovers a trap

door is opening. He pulls it up and sees:

An old man climbing up from the basement.

FEDORA

Okay, fella. Where’s the young guy?

A noise behind him distracts Fedora.

He turns to see:

Indy RUNNING out the front door.

FEDORA

Damn.

EXT. STREET – DAY

As Indy runs from the shop and approaches a

police station we see the nametag “REFF” on his torn shirt.

INDY

Help!

INT. THE POLICE STATION – DAY

Indy bursts through the front door holding the BANNER in his

hand. A police dog BARKS as Indy runs to the counter.

INDY

I need help!

 

INT. THE INTERVIEW ROOM – DAY

 

Indy is sitting down in. The interview room is bare.

There are three chairs and a table. On the walls, where pictures,

charts and maps might be, there are stains on the wall from where

they were removed.

POLICEMAN Eddie JONES is sitting opposite Indy. In fact, he

is studying the banner which lies unfurled

in front of him on the table.

The policeman is

not just studying it, he is making notes of it in his notebook.

INDY

They’re up to no good, I tell you.

EDDIE

Be silent.

INDY

It’s important!

Indy’

EDDIE

Wait until I’ve finished studying this.

INDY

No, please. You listen to me —

EDDIE

(now he shouts)

Reff!

Be quiet for a minute, will you.

No question who is the boss here. Indy gulps, his look says

“What am I going to do with this guy?” And he obeys – he starts

counting, VERY, VERY FAINTLY.

INDY

One, two, three, four…

Now we see what Eddie is concentrating on. We see his hand

writing; then, he holds up one finger.

EDDIE

Silently.

Indy’s reaction:

 

INDY

(louder)

One… two… three… four…

 

Outside, a car is heard arriving.

Anyway, it stops outside the police station.

Two men sit in the front seat. Herman sits in the rear,

BLOWING A TRUMPET.

 

Indy’s reaction: Trouble!

 

Eddie is just finishing his notes.

 

EDDIE

May he who created this…

explain it to me…

 

INT. THE POLICE STATION – DAY

 

The interview room door is just closing, Indy closing it behind him…

just as Herman comes through the front door, still playing

the trumpet.

 

Indy reaches for the trumpet, pulling it from Herman’s mouth.

Herman continues to spit — right into Indy’s face. Indy

flinches.

 

HERMAN

I knew you’d end up here.

 

Herman means the POLICEMAN, who now enters the station.

 

INDY

Just the man I want to see! Now,

there were five or six of them.

 

POLICEMAN

(interrupting)

All right now.

 

INDY

(overlapping)

…they came after… me…

 

POLICEMAN

You still got it?

INDY

Well, yes. It’s right here!

 

Indy shows the Banner, more or less handing it to the Policeman

to make his point. The Policeman takes it casually.

 

POLICEMAN

I’m glad to see that… because the

rightful owner of this Banner won’t

press charges, if you give it back.

 

Fedora enters the Police Station, followed by Roscoe, Rough Rider and

Halfbreed. He politely removes his hat and holds it in his

hand. He nods at Indy in a friendly manner.

POLICEMAN

He’s got witnesses, five or six of

them.

 

The Policeman and Fedora are in cahoots

The Policeman hands the Banner to Fedora. Roscoe reaches in and

takes it from Fedora, then runs out the door.

ROSCOE

Yahoo!

 

As Roscoe runs outside Indy sees — through the screen door —

the MAN IN THE PANAMA HAT waiting patiently beside the car

that is parked out front. Roscoe approaches and gives the

Man the Banner — the Man hands Roscoe some money in exchange.

The Policeman tips his hat and heads for a door to the back of the station.

 

POLICEMAN

Good day.

Fedora remains behind for a moment. He turns and speaks to

Indy in an ironic man-to-man way.

FEDORA

You lost today, kid, but that doesn’t

mean you have to like it.

Then, Fedora takes off his hat and takes a step towards Indy.

He holds the hat by the crown, and puts it on Indy’s head, a

show of respect and admiration for the boy. The hat blocks

Indy’s face.

CLOSE ON THE TOP OF THE FEDORA HAT

 

To be continued…

 

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.

Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 

You can contact the author at:

tony.carden.wordsmith@gmail.com

 

 

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