The Chancellor started reading the report – “Prime Minister slain while walking his dog yesterday evening. A police spokesman stated that the Downing Street Special Branch Police Authority called a lightning strike because of the reduction of their Pension Plan by the Prime Minister up to 50%.”
The Chancellor thought: ‘I bet it was his bloody dog that ripped my newspaper to pieces.’
He read on: “England in turmoil over who was going to take over? Brussels have stepped in and suggested their Prime Minister should take over as he was practically ruling England anyway.”
The Chancellor threw down the paper in disgust. The Chancellor thought his hearing aid was playing up, he could hear all this noise and then realized someone was leaning on his bell and hammering the knocker furiously.
He crept to the front door and through the letterbox he announced to the police outside that he was going to have his breakfast of shredded wheat, a boiled egg with bread soldiers and a mug of coffee.
‘But Chancellor you’re in charge now.’
‘I am?’
‘Yes!’
‘Hold on a moment.’
The door opened and the Chancellor still in his pyjamas walked from his house to No. 10, went in and closed the door behind him and said to one of the officials, ‘Will you send my breakfast up on a tray, it is breakfast in bed for me, must get my strength up to deal with the problems of the world now that I am Prime Minister.’
Saturday 6th April 6 am
The new Prime Minister threw his alarm clock out of the window which woke up the armed police guard outside No. 10. The newly appointed Prime Minister, also known as The Chancellor ensured the Police had their Pension Plan passed by Parliament making sure there were only a few members in the house and a majority of five to one passed the bill. With the police re-instated in Downing Street it was a safe place to be. The body of the original Prime Minister and his dog were taken away in an ambulance. The dog was okay but wouldn’t leave his master’s side and growled menacingly when someone tried to uncurl the P.M’s hand holding the leash. ‘Let “We Are Pets” sort out the problem,’ said the new Prime Minister.
The new Prime Minister called a meeting and as they all gathered round the table, he said ‘Before we all sit down we will stand for twenty seconds as a mark of respect for him who has just perished and two minutes for the dog who had to put up with his quirky ways.’
‘Prime Minister, are you going to appoint another Minister to take over your former role as Chancellor of the Exchequer?’
‘No! I think I can manage both jobs – Prime Minister in the morning and the Chancellor in the afternoon, should be a doddle. I have come up with a better idea so that I can stay indoors dealing with “Home Affairs” and the men who have volunteered to be me are undergoing plastic surgery and as of next week will be in the limelight going abroad and having discussions with foreign ministers in different countries and if at any time they get assassinated another volunteer will take their place.’
‘People will know about them being killed, surely Prime Minister?’
‘Just mere details, we’ll think of something.’
‘Won’t they know when they see the coffin?’
‘That’s a good point! Perhaps we could say the P.M. likes to travel by coffin, he feels safer in one of those. Yes I think that answer will suffice.’
‘But……..Prime Minister!’
‘No buts, there’s a good lad.’
The Prime Minister whispered to his neighbouring Minister and said, ‘Who’s he who keeps asking questions?’
‘He was the other Prime Minister’s right hand man.’
‘He’ll have to go and the sooner the better – see if we have new promotional position in the lateral sense.’
‘I’ll do that straight away Prime Minister.’
‘Now the preliminaries are over – what’s happening on the home front?’
* * *
A Sunday in the future
Mrs. Baxter visited her father in the “Sunnyside Up Care Home.” She signed the book as usual and was just about to go to his room when a Care Nurse approached her and said how sorry she was that Mrs. Baxter’s Father had passed away peacefully just after the first visitor of the day.
Would you like to see your Father?’
‘Yes!’ said Mrs. Baxter.
As the nurse was taking Mrs. Baxter along the corridor she was speaking all the time and saying that the person who called was very important and spoke briefly to her father this morning.
‘Who was the visitor?’
He said he was the Minister for Home Affairs and he left a message written on the wall and Vera Baxter only noted the last few words, ‘It said what?’
‘See for yourself.’ said the Nurse.
The room was cool and the curtains drawn together and the nurse pulled them apart and on the wall written in bold pencil.
”the old bugger’s gone at last!”
‘But what I can’t understand, said the nurse, ‘Is the broad smile on your Father’s face.’
‘When he first came to the Nursing Home aged 95, I told you he was a Member of Parliament, but he was more than that, he was our Prime Minister and Chancellor – and at a 105 years old, he looks like he won the race after all.’