alternatehistory.com

John hadn’t been having the best week but this was ridiculous.

The house was empty.

He was Prime Minister and Downing Street was utterly empty.

Except for himself, of course. He’d slept in late despite the fact he was busy that day, the bastards were out to get him again and this time it looked as if they might actually succeed. He’d managed to stay literally clear of the chaos that had followed Margaret’s downfall. Well, in a literal sense he’d been there when the mortars had almost finished the lot of them. The renovations had taken quite a while, he could remember always being aware to be seen of pitching in with the painters and joiners when there were camera’s about.

The public had adored that, they even seemed to be cheering them on more than Margaret as they stood on a platform together to see off Kinnock back in 1991. She’d done the same for him in 1994 when he’d unified the party and seen off Beckett, she hadn’t had to help him up the stairs like he’d had to do with her but by that point she’d largely recovered from the shrapnel, bless her. The whole thing to do with John Smith was tragic but the nation needed a leader with a mandate and why did they have a Deputy leader if she wasn’t ready to take complete charge.

He wondered if John Prescott’s office was empty today as well. Labour did seem to have given up a bit recently, he could take responsibility for that. Of course it was her who had shifted the overtown window to the extent that Labour accepted the need for free markets and competition for prosperity but it was he who had made it clear that they wouldn’t be tinkering with the system if they ever did manage to win an election again.

The replacement of Trade Unions with compulsory P2P sessions had been a master stroke, one Prescott didn’t actually seem able to oppose it after Tracey Temple came out in favour, the NHS had been put to tender and it had been proven once and for all that the sacred cow was no more efficient than any other statist industry. When people have to actually opt in and decide how much tax they’re going to pay towards drunken idiots on a Friday night it became clear that their individual rights were indeed recognised as far more important as propping up public sector bureaucrats. Full employment had been ensured by the new law on capacity for employment. There were complaints of longer hours and lower wages from the usual subjects but it’s not like they had to do the jobs assigned to them, provided they were happy with being independent and not relying on taxpayers.

Taxes themselves had been cut after the unnecessary bureaucracy had really been disposed of, it had seemed bizarre that Margaret had left so many of them to stew, although he supposed she’d had to pick her battles. There was so many fewer staff these days within Whitehall that he hadn’t initially noticed how quiet it was.

But no-one, he couldn’t understand. Returning to his bedroom he could see that many minor fires had broken out across London. That wasn’t good at all. He’d always been good to the fire brigade, almost as good as he’d been to the police, despite the former’s union being full of communists prior to the P2P roll-out. Michael, the head bastard of the gang, had complained that he wasn’t putting enough priority into defence as the various political, ethnic and religious conflicts in the former Soviet Union.

He’d informed Michael about the need for people to be reassured at home that the government would be there to facilitate their personal entrepreneurial journeys. The other Michael, the bastard on the left, had told him that these journeys were being cut rather short when people were struggling to afford bus tickets to take them to their lower paid jobs but an opportunity to make a joke about literally getting on one’s bike was always worth it. No offence meant towards either Michael of course.

He couldn’t hear the sounds of any fire engines, there didn’t seem to be any police outside either. He wasn’t going to wander outside by himself, it might have been 1998 but the Prime Minister still had to reply on some protection.

His security had called him at least, one was sick, the other one had had a death in the family. He’d suspected that they might have been disingenuous, neither had sounded lethargic or distraught, but there was always a pool of other special branch assistants, except none of them were there either.

No-one else he’d called had seemed to have bothered to pick up the phone, it wasn’t like they were deliberately ignoring him, everyone was just ringing out.

There was a glow in the distance, another fire, some sort of explosion. He found it hard to see, he was rather tired all of a sudden.

With a large yawn he slumped back to bed.

---

It had to have been over a week and John still hadn’t seen anyone, although he had gotten out of bed to turn the radio on, which he was especially proud of himself for.

There weren’t any British stations on the air, which he suspected had something to do with why there wasn’t anyone in Downing Street or outside. He’d had to rely on Voice of America to inform him that there was some sort of mass strike taking place, that the British economy had collapsed and the rest of the global economy suffering from it.

A large amount of time in Voice of America was devoted to informing American citizens within Britain how to get to the nearest US military base if they couldn’t reach the consulate or embassy. John managed a laugh over the radio telling him to avoid travelling at night time due to anticipated riots, although very little had taken place as of yet.

As if Britons would ever riot to such an extent, and this whole nonsense about a strike was ridiculous. The economic collapse was more concerning though, he’d have to call his other John tomorrow.

---

It was about a month but there was little way of telling with the batteries having gone from the radio. Voice of America had been silenced. John was sure there were some more batteries in the cupboard by his bedside, he was sure about it and in fact he was going to check after he’d had a lie down.

---


John had stopped going downstairs because of the smell, who could be bothered with going out into the cold if no-one could be bothered managing the flood barrier. At least he’d seen a friendly face the other day. The dome had always been John Major’s brainchild and it was amazing what he’d done with using the giant tarpaulin as a giant life boat.

He hadn’t waved back though, which was a shame. He’d need to try and call him again once he’d gotten some of the water out the house.

---

He was no longer John Redwood in his own mind as much as he was the Prime Minister. Without anyone to talk to he’d been beginning to forget. It was rather strange, being an island at the heart of power in Britain. He was sort of more free than he’d ever been, not going outside. No-one to depend on him, no stress, not even any need to get dressed, really. Alone with this thoughts, as it should have been.

He’d gotten so much done.

He was beginning to get sick of raw meat but the fridge had gone off so whenever he caught a rat he’d generally just eat it straight away. In his hands ever since all the dishes had gone dirty.

Still, someone had to take care of all these rats, he thought to himself. After he’d had to eat Humphrey. He had a little cry at that thought.

He’d gotten so much done, he’d even leafed through the cupboard to find some batteries. None there mind you.
---

It was so cold that the flooded inner city had largely frozen over, he could see it from outside the window after he’d used his blanket to smear some of the dirt off. It was so cold that he kept his blanket on most of the day now, although the beard he’d realised he’d grown had helped with that as well.

There was something else outside as well, it seemed to be a helicopter. He remembered helicopters from when he’d been John Redwood, now he was the Prime Minister he had no real need for them but he waved to it all the same.

There was a loudspeaker underneath declaring that the two Michaels had got together to sort things out, which was nice of them. He wondered if they were actually in the helicopter. Neither of them could walk after the mortar attack but how nice if they could fly.

If he was Prime Minister he wondered if he could fly.

After all, he’d done everything else, the state destroyed, complete societal collapse, the global economy in chaos, and he’d done it all without lifting a finger. Maximum personal freedom and with it the freedom to choose whatever he wanted to do, as the rest could. Even if it was nothing at all.

If the two Michaels wanted to sort everything out and that was nice of them but he was still free to just relax. He’d had a tough day after all.

The battle between boredom and freedom could wait till tomorrow.
Top