'Right, I've got Chomp up, what does everyone want?'
'Um, a lamb biryani, please.'
'That already has rice, doesn't it?'
'Yeah, its mixed in.'
'Rightyho. Alice?'
'Er, what do they have?'
'Just come and look over my shoulder.'
'Okay. Ooh, I like the look of that.'
'Yup. You need a rice.'
'Oh, just plain.'
'Urgh, plain.'
'Shut up.'
'I will. Keema rice for me, because I'm not happy if my carbs don't also come with protein. Aaand, a korma.'
'Thats a bit boring.'
'I know, but its going to be a long night, don't want to have to leave half way through to have nasty pain.'
'Nice. Just pass me the comportable.'
'Yeah, I'll do that too, it makes more sense than trying to guess.
'Okay.'
Alan handed over his comportable, and left the room. Taking a right, he entered the kitchen, and grabbed two crates of beer. He smiled, tonight was going to be quite something. This was the first election he had been old enough to vote in, and he had managed to organise an all-night beer and curry session with his mates. Alice had said something about an Election Night Drinking Game, but Alan thought it was unlikely they'd get especially pissed, it would distract them from their curry and from having more spontaneous fun.
When he returned to the living room, his mates had already made their choices on Chomp. Alan pressed 'enter' and within the hour, all the curries they desired would be at their door. He settled into 'his' chair (you know, technically it was the university's, but he always sat there, so it was his), and turned on the televisor. Frederick Dimbleby glared out into the room, and they went quiet.
'-nd welcome to the BBC's election centre. We'll only really get going at 10pm, when we will be legally allowed to publish our exit poll. But that isn't for another twenty minutes. Elections are notoriously difficult to predict, and this is no exception. Will the government cling onto power, or will they be driven from office. A hung parliament looks likely, but any number of combinations are possible. George Snow will be explaining whats happening on the laser display screen.' Dimbleby gestured, and the patrician figure of George Snow appeared. He waved his arms about and several coloured bars slid across the screen behind him, their computer generated nature interacting with the visibly real world in a deeply disconcerting way.
'Welcome to the new edition of the legendary Score Board, updated for the 21st century. This line,' he said, jabbing at a virtual white strip that bisected the equally length bars, 'represents the threshold needed to attain a majority. Here are the parties as they now stand.' All of the bars shrank behind the line, representing the current situation. 'As you can see the Nationals are the largest party but at the last election did not get enough seats to govern alone.' The camera went back to Dimbleby, who looked a little more relaxed and a little less like a Southern European dictator.
'Thank you, George. If none of the major parties can govern alone, one of the smaller parties will be in the limelight. Will the Unionists be able to keep their seats warm at the cabinet table? Will the CPGB get a look-in? Or the Home Rule League? Not to mention the possibility of alliances between the major parties to lock out opponents. Will a Grand Coalition be the result of this year's election?' he paused, and looked at a different camera. There was a short delay before it switched, so it looked for a moment like Dimbleby was talking to some unseen figure. 'But we are not alone in holding an election this year. In Europe and the Dominions, elections have already taken place, and they may give us a signal for what might happen in this race.'
A montage came on the screen, showing queues at the polls in Germany, Sweden, Canada and New Zealand. It also showed the marches of party brigades in their colourful shirts, banners raised high. Dimbleby appeared again. 'In Germany, the Peoples' Party continued its coalition government with the National Socialists, a government which has proven popular if not without controversy. The rise of the KPD in the ghetto governments before the general election was used to frighten centrist voters away from a potential alliance of the left. Traditional anti-semitism was also played upon. In New Zealand by contrast, the Liberal Party was able to overturn the Nationals, albeit having to form a Coalition with their erstwhile rivals in Labour. Could something similar happen in Britain?'
As Dimbleby and other talking heads circled by, Alan popped the cap off a bottle of beer. He found this kind of tired speculation boring. The same scenarios had been mooted for weeks, he'd seen the graphs, the speeches, the international comparisons, a dozen times or more. He was here for the real deal. He pulled his sweater vest down slightly, it had ridden up at the back as he slouched, and drank. It was going to be a long night.
'Um, a lamb biryani, please.'
'That already has rice, doesn't it?'
'Yeah, its mixed in.'
'Rightyho. Alice?'
'Er, what do they have?'
'Just come and look over my shoulder.'
'Okay. Ooh, I like the look of that.'
'Yup. You need a rice.'
'Oh, just plain.'
'Urgh, plain.'
'Shut up.'
'I will. Keema rice for me, because I'm not happy if my carbs don't also come with protein. Aaand, a korma.'
'Thats a bit boring.'
'I know, but its going to be a long night, don't want to have to leave half way through to have nasty pain.'
'Nice. Just pass me the comportable.'
'Yeah, I'll do that too, it makes more sense than trying to guess.
'Okay.'
Alan handed over his comportable, and left the room. Taking a right, he entered the kitchen, and grabbed two crates of beer. He smiled, tonight was going to be quite something. This was the first election he had been old enough to vote in, and he had managed to organise an all-night beer and curry session with his mates. Alice had said something about an Election Night Drinking Game, but Alan thought it was unlikely they'd get especially pissed, it would distract them from their curry and from having more spontaneous fun.
When he returned to the living room, his mates had already made their choices on Chomp. Alan pressed 'enter' and within the hour, all the curries they desired would be at their door. He settled into 'his' chair (you know, technically it was the university's, but he always sat there, so it was his), and turned on the televisor. Frederick Dimbleby glared out into the room, and they went quiet.
'-nd welcome to the BBC's election centre. We'll only really get going at 10pm, when we will be legally allowed to publish our exit poll. But that isn't for another twenty minutes. Elections are notoriously difficult to predict, and this is no exception. Will the government cling onto power, or will they be driven from office. A hung parliament looks likely, but any number of combinations are possible. George Snow will be explaining whats happening on the laser display screen.' Dimbleby gestured, and the patrician figure of George Snow appeared. He waved his arms about and several coloured bars slid across the screen behind him, their computer generated nature interacting with the visibly real world in a deeply disconcerting way.
'Welcome to the new edition of the legendary Score Board, updated for the 21st century. This line,' he said, jabbing at a virtual white strip that bisected the equally length bars, 'represents the threshold needed to attain a majority. Here are the parties as they now stand.' All of the bars shrank behind the line, representing the current situation. 'As you can see the Nationals are the largest party but at the last election did not get enough seats to govern alone.' The camera went back to Dimbleby, who looked a little more relaxed and a little less like a Southern European dictator.
'Thank you, George. If none of the major parties can govern alone, one of the smaller parties will be in the limelight. Will the Unionists be able to keep their seats warm at the cabinet table? Will the CPGB get a look-in? Or the Home Rule League? Not to mention the possibility of alliances between the major parties to lock out opponents. Will a Grand Coalition be the result of this year's election?' he paused, and looked at a different camera. There was a short delay before it switched, so it looked for a moment like Dimbleby was talking to some unseen figure. 'But we are not alone in holding an election this year. In Europe and the Dominions, elections have already taken place, and they may give us a signal for what might happen in this race.'
A montage came on the screen, showing queues at the polls in Germany, Sweden, Canada and New Zealand. It also showed the marches of party brigades in their colourful shirts, banners raised high. Dimbleby appeared again. 'In Germany, the Peoples' Party continued its coalition government with the National Socialists, a government which has proven popular if not without controversy. The rise of the KPD in the ghetto governments before the general election was used to frighten centrist voters away from a potential alliance of the left. Traditional anti-semitism was also played upon. In New Zealand by contrast, the Liberal Party was able to overturn the Nationals, albeit having to form a Coalition with their erstwhile rivals in Labour. Could something similar happen in Britain?'
As Dimbleby and other talking heads circled by, Alan popped the cap off a bottle of beer. He found this kind of tired speculation boring. The same scenarios had been mooted for weeks, he'd seen the graphs, the speeches, the international comparisons, a dozen times or more. He was here for the real deal. He pulled his sweater vest down slightly, it had ridden up at the back as he slouched, and drank. It was going to be a long night.