Alternate PMs #1 - "The Lambeth Walk"

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"Anytime you’re Lambeth way,
Any evening, any day,
You’ll find us all doin’ the Lambeth walk...”


***

From a single glance, it was obvious that the Prime Minister was hardly in a formal state to see the King. His hair was scruffy, its grey threads curling all over his forehead and sticking out behind his ears in a poor interpretation of a duck’s arse. Around his neck was a red tie, patterned with golden diamonds, which made him look like a sleazy casino lounge singer. It wasn’t even pulled up to his top buttons, but one would suppose it didn’t matter if they weren’t even done up. He paused beside a mirror before taking his final steps to meet King George and took a final look at himself. Looking good, son.

“Good morning, Charlie.” The King gave a wry smile at that, as he always did. His fucking Majesty, Tony thought to himself. What a load of bollocks.

“Please, Prime Minister… have a seat.” The King gestured to the sofa across from his own. The palace looked like a doll’s house, with the same flower-patterned furniture pensioners usually had hidden away in their lofts. At least, that’s how it appeared to the Prime Minister. Charlie will cart this load of tat out, most likely. Having been King for only a fortnight, he’d had barely enough time to shoo the corgis out. Their hairs could still be seen, if one wanted to look. “I hope this will be the first meeting of many. I-…”

“Well, of course I hope so too. But let’s get down to business. I’m sure you’ve got questions, just as your mother did. I’m guessing you think you’ve got the answers as well, eh?” The flurry of words came forth very easily. I’ve been waiting a long fucking time for this. There was one issue hanging above all others between the Prime Minister and his monarch, that most grand and old of all British sports: hunting. It was to this his barbed words referred, their every syllable causing visible frustration upon King George’s face.

“Prime Minister, I-…”

“Call me Tony. I call you Charlie.”

“Tony… I’m only here to give my opinions. I’m sure we’d find a lot of common ground, I know we would. But, there are… inevitable, err, disagreements that we will face.” Tony was poised, the words sitting upon his lips.

“Like hunting?”

“Well, yes. I know you’re all for its abolition, but I’m here as an old British institution myself defending another old British institution. You must understand – it’s our culture, Tony. I feel, if we ban hunting, that we will-…” The Prime Minister was swift to interrupt.

"We will lose nothing and regain a bit of our own humanity, Charles. I know where you stand, I do. The people, though, stand with me." In the Commons, he’d always been much the same. He’d heckled from the backbenches as much as he did from Smith’s frontbench for four years, and he never lost it. Even against the King, Tony fought the same battles he used to fight against Major’s side of the house.

"Well, I..." The King paused and Tony watched him, every iota of his concentration forced to come up with an answer. "I think neither of us will change the other's mind. We're at an impasse, it seems. Can we not... agree to disagree on this?"

Smart move. Charles had heard the rumours of a republican referendum. Momentum was gaining and the polls didn't exactly give a clear picture of support for Elizabeth's successor. Tony let the matter rest, however. The animals come first, then the palace, he told himself.

"You're welcome to join the Tories' campaign against the law, if you so desire. But, of course, we can drop it for now." He'd won the war already, so one last battle meant nothing.

"Very well, Mr. Banks. I'm sure there are other things we could discuss." Tony could think of a thousand things to discuss, but the King most likely had another issue on his mind entirely.

"Your man... err, Blair. I hear he's been giving you headaches as of late." Tony Blair. Tory Tony. The "headaches" to which the King referred were like migraines to the Prime Minister. Debating Europe became an altogether unpleasant affair with "Tory Tony" in the house, whose speeches never failed to rile up the Europhiles. Major had much the same problem with his bastards. For the Prime Minister, it was the reverse. Blair and Byers were leading their acolytes to ruin, trying to argue for a referendum. The people know where they stand. The public had an even dimmer view of the single currency than they had of their new King.

"Blair can smile like an idiot and chatter all he wants, but the government knows its position. The man looks like the Cheshire Cat with a fucking spray tan, for crying out loud!" Charles let out a slight chuckle at that. "Have you ever met his wife, Charlie?"

"I can't say I've had the pleasure, no."

"She's just as bad as him. She thinks she's married the son of God, and Blair couldn't agree more. They're a couple of demon-eyed loons." The Prime Minister had little time for the circus around Blair, the backbenchers who followed him like disciples and the journalists that lived as if each word uttered from Blair's mouth was Gospel.

A silence fell over the room and the ticking of the clock in the corner seemed to be drawn out by the pause in their conversation. The King and his Prime Minister had exchanged words for the first time and, as the hands of the clock swept past half eleven, they had already run out of things to say. He wracked his brain for a moment and, just then, noticed that a fountain pen lying on the table between the Prime Minister and the King. Tony was reminded of his Transport Secretary, who had been at the mercy of that pen an innumerable amount of times.

“I’ve had Meacher in my ear for the past few months… and Livingstone and Mullin too. Probably half the Cabinet, actually.” The King perked up.

“Concerning?”

“Well, they wanted me to pass on a message.” The Prime Minister rose from his seat.

“A message? What-…”

Stop with the fucking letters.”​
 
This is very tasty. Unusually for me, I had to look up who the mystery PM was. I thought it was going to be Nigel Farage for a second.
 
This is very tasty. Unusually for me, I had to look up who the mystery PM was. I thought it was going to be Nigel Farage for a second.

I thought that same. Very well done, very much amused. I'm a bit intrigued to see how it would play out; an outspoken Republican becoming PM...
 

Sideways

Donor
I'm enjoying these a lot. Though I'd prefer them to be consolidated into one thread.

Good stuff! I love the description of backbench rebel Tony Blair.
 
This is very tasty. Unusually for me, I had to look up who the mystery PM was. I thought it was going to be Nigel Farage for a second.

Tony Banks is oft-overlooked in alternate history, so I suppose not everyone would recognise him so easily. A Labour Farage is a scary thought, though - I can imagine him being a bit like Kilroy-Silk in EdT's Share or Shaft.

I thought that same. Very well done, very much amused. I'm a bit intrigued to see how it would play out; an outspoken Republican becoming PM...

Good good :) I think it would make a great fleshed out TL, especially at the time that I've set this (late 1997). Banks wouldn't be so accommodating with the Royal Family or sympathetic to their poorly received reaction to Diana's death.

I'm enjoying these a lot. Though I'd prefer them to be consolidated into one thread.

Good stuff! I love the description of backbench rebel Tony Blair.

Glad you enjoyed it! I've already got an idea for the next one - a sort of British regime that I don't think has been done before (and certainly not with the PM I have in mind).
 
Ooh, this is really good - though is Blair Eurosceptic in this TL?

No, he's a Europhile - basically, Banks is ruling out joining the Euro entirely and Blair wants a referendum to decide it. He's seen as a leader of the Europhiles and is firing them up to cause trouble for Banks over the issue.
 
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