AT ANY COST
Some of the older gays said that “Civil Assistance” had been as bad as the National Integrity mob were now back in the 70s, but Alan found that hard to believe. Had Civil Assistance ever come into the quarter and burnt down a whole block of flats? Maybe, but no one could give any examples… in fact he was fairly sure the quarter hadn’t even existed until the nineties… He’d ask Charlie later, Charlie would know… Charlie knew everything, or knew someone he could ask.
At that thought his love came back into the bedroom and sat on the bed next to him, sweeping Alan’s hair from his eyes tenderly and smiling down at him. The sunlight streamed into their apartment, music played softly from the kitchen, and everything seemed ideal… lying there with his boyfriend beside him, Alan could almost imagine that he lived in some other place – and he’d though about moving to one – than a squalid English city. At least, he supposed, they didn’t let National Integrity into the richer areas… least of all because one of their neighbours – Mildred, a former Nat Dem functionary who seemed vaguely disapproving of their… lifestyle – had got everyone in their building to pay for a private security contractor…
“Have you got much work today, honey?” He asked Charlie sleepily.
“Yeah I do.” Charlie said with a sigh, “Boss wants me on the livecast coverage of the election, something about getting a minority anchor in to make sure people know just how modern we are.”
“Ha, hard for Citizens’ to counter that, I guess.” Alan said uncomfortably.
“Indeed it is. This is why you’re the genius and I’m just a pretty face for them.” Alan blushed – genius was a strong word, but his tutors at the university were saying his thesis, dealing with the replication of the Nat Dems’ success by the Values movement in the US, was one of the most promising he’d seen in years.
“So when are you going out?” Alan asked.
“Probably about four so I can get ready but I think I’ll go in now just to prep you know? I don’t know when I’ll be back. If it’s a good night for the party it’ll be early tomorrow… if not who knows. There’ll be a party if it is, I suppose, which you can come to if you want?”
Alan smiled, trying to hide his unease, “Yeah of course babe.”
“Good.” Charlie smiled and stroked his hair again.
“I’ll see you later then?” Alan asked.
“Of course.” Charlie kissed his forehead softly then, grabbing his coat, left the room. Alan heard the door close softly and the rolled over in bed. It was midday, but working could wait.
When Allan woke up again the sun was starting to go down, and he groggily checked the Telewatch on his wrist – 17:30. So much for working, he thought, but then he hadn’t got home until five in the morning, so sleep was deserved. He wondered when he’d get to sleep… not until late, certainly, because he had to watch the election results coming in, if only for Charlie’s sake.
Thoughts of politics and catching a picture of his family in the corner of his eye made his heart sink. His parents were Citizens’ voters, and he was sure the twins had been voting for the Socialists as long as they knew anything about politics… only his older sister, Adriana, was smart enough to vote for the Green Front. They were outcasts in a northern family, he supposed, and the Citizens’ Party, and the liberation movement that had birthed it, were in his blood. Not that he, or anyone sensible, believed in tribal allegiances, but he still felt a tie to that old cause. He tried to put the thoughts from his mind.
He ate dinner, reheated lasagne Charlie had made the night before, alone in their luxury kitchen and then sat himself down on the designer leather sofa in front of their forty-two-inch TV. Being Charlie’s boyfriend certainly had its perks. He switched it on with their new “Omni-remote” (or the one remote to rule them all as his friend Amy had called it) and turned to an NBA newsfeed, before going back into the kitchen to poor himself a glass of red wine and stick one of the older bottles of Champagne in the fridge. Just in case the election was good news.
Protestors have clashed with a National Integrity cell near Leader of the Opposition Gideon Osborne’s campaign headquarters… the slow drawl of the presenter floated into the kitchen as Alan absentmindedly went about his task… the Alliance Party leader, despite death threats, has decided to stay in place until the election results are announced, in what some are calling “a last-ditch effort to prove his strength”. Alan frowned – hardly impartial reporting there, but then what was these days… still it would be nice if the NBA didn’t go the way of the BBC before it. All the protests around Osborne worried him… he was an Alliance supporter at heart– if shy about it, and who wouldn’t be considering his social situation… deep down he was hoping Osborne would be kingmaker… or perhaps even Prime Minister. That, of course, would rather upset Charlie and his radical young friends.
He returned to the sofa and reclined, flicking from the NBA coverage to get the online Livecast Charlie was going to be in. There had been worries about foreign actors taking down British broadcasters like had happened back in 2011, but it seemed like the security services was able to stay on top of things. 17:58, that meant two minutes or so more before the election exit poll was published on NBA and then Charlie and his cohort would be on to give rolling coverage. Alan yawned and then took another sip of the red, scrolling through various Social Media feeds on his phone – optimism from all quarters except for the Alliance camp… this had been predicted as the worst election for the political centre ground since the National Democratic dictatorship had taken power… Heath’s national government hadn’t been as unpopular as Gideon was, miraculously.
The election result, Alan was dimly and frightenedly aware, could totally change the conclusions of his work… Values was still a fringe movement, Mike Pence’s little cohort was scoring around twenty or so electoral votes in every election, whilst the Nat Dems had the chance to form the Official Opposition here. For the first time since Tebbit had seized power, the party had a real chance of holding the levers of power… from both an academic and personal perspective the whole thing was vaguely terrifying.
Then the election coverage began.
“The Mainstream Media have published their main exit poll for this election,” Came the insufferable voice of The Truth’s main anchor Milo Wagner, “And it really is remarkable.”
Allan’s mouth dropped as the results of the exit poll appeared on the television, flashing up the seat totals on a brightly coloured bar chart.
“The National Democrats are leading on 41% of the vote, followed by the Citizens’ Party on 29%, the Liberal-Conservative Alliance on 20%, then we have the minor parties trailing, with Zac Goldsmith’s Green Front on 4%, the Scottish Democrats on 2% and the Northern Irish parties collectively having 3%. The rest went to parties too unimportant to waste our precious, precious time on.” The cast all laughed at that.
“So,” Milo started again, “Any thoughts?”
Charlie spoke first, stunning as always in a sharp suit, “Well, least of all it shows how the British people have thoroughly rejected the old Establishment, and if these figures are correct it paves the way for the first National Democrat government since the end of the emergency.” That was what they always called the long national nightmare of the dictatorship… these ultra-right wing pundits.
From there the coverage kept rolling in, the only interesting part was an interview they did with some nutter in the Green Front talking about forced population reduction and “Eco-Nationalism”, whatever the fuck that meant. The old talking points about how Gordon Brown had failed as Citizens’ second Prime Minister – after Robin Cooke’s resignation – and was failing again as its third were all walked out and done to death, and eventually Allan drifted off to sleep sometime around midnight.
Alan woke up again early in the morning to a full slate of results being displayed on the screen, and his boyfriend and his colleagues cheering and sipping at champagne. I gazed in horror at the results – the National Democrats were just off a majority, with the Green Front and Ulster Solidarity parties able to grant them confidence and supply. He quickly changed the channel to see the end of a report about a clash between the Citizen’s League and National Integrity on the streets of London, then again to the Prime Minister making a speech to the nation. The man looked grey and older, older even than he had done the day before.
And so I must sadly admit the failures of my government, and the triumph of right wing populism, of fascism, over the forces of moderation. Although a National Democratic government is not certain, I cannot continue to serve this nation as Prime Minister and must resign effective immediately… Allan slumped back in his chair and saw on social media that Gideon Osborne had already made a speech in which he accepted “Alliance’s failure to represent the British people, and their loss of their position as the official opposition”. The result was everything that the pundits and scaremongers had conjured up as the worst possible alternative…
Twenty years ago would anyone have dreamt of this? That the party of the dictatorship in alliance with the revanchists left over after the border war in Ireland and Alan Clark’s Green Front might ally together to form a government? The street violence, an NBA announcer said, was even worse in Belfast… Ulster Solidarity clashing with the few remaining Catholics in the city. One voice even suggested that pogroms might start up again, driving Catholic refugees over the “compromise” border drawn up and policed by the UN since the failure of Ulster’s UDI and re-annexation into the UK in the 1970s.
Finally, the National Democrat leader appeared on TV.
Rejoice, rejoice! As one of the greatest figures in my party’s history once said after she cracked down on the enemy within. The grinning new face of British politics began, and, in a very real sense, today is a day of renewal! The excesses of the regimes of the last twenty years shall come to an end… the weakness and the acquiescence to the neoliberal agenda of our enemies across both the Atlantic and the Channel shall be brought to heal! The merciless cyber-attacks of the Russians and Chinese will be countered! The burden of Catholic refugees on our cities alleviated, and the attacks of the IRA stopped once and for all, whatever the cost. The man was whipping himself into a frenzy, but no doubt a certain section of the population would only be more inspired, When the first leader of my party took office on one fateful day in 1980 we were at a breaking point, as we are today! It is now time once again to strive for renewal and reformation!
As rapturous applause met the grinning soon-to-be Prime Minister Alan began to swear and cry all at once… Was this what Charlie had wanted? He could still remember the screaming, and the blood, and the pain as the Catholic Liberation Army had bombed the quarter all those years ago… he could see in his mind the scars on Charlie’s back that he had traced so many times from the day… Could still remember seeing the steel that he now saw in his eyes every day – the dedication to get revenge for his own injuries and those Alan himself had suffered. For the death of their friends. It seemed Charlie could ignore the offences of the National Democrats against gays if it meant revenge against those who had hurt the two of them. He would go to any extent, support any cause, to exact the reparation he felt was owed to him for all they had suffered.
As Alan flicked off Tony Blair’s vitriolic and violent speech to see his own boyfriend’s joyous reaction he went to fetch another glass of wine before simply gripping the neck of the bottle tightly. At least, a part of him supposed, there would be another party to attend…
“Have you got much work today, honey?” He asked Charlie sleepily.
“Yeah I do.” Charlie said with a sigh, “Boss wants me on the livecast coverage of the election, something about getting a minority anchor in to make sure people know just how modern we are.”
“Ha, hard for Citizens’ to counter that, I guess.” Alan said uncomfortably.
“Indeed it is. This is why you’re the genius and I’m just a pretty face for them.” Alan blushed – genius was a strong word, but his tutors at the university were saying his thesis, dealing with the replication of the Nat Dems’ success by the Values movement in the US, was one of the most promising he’d seen in years.
“So when are you going out?” Alan asked.
“Probably about four so I can get ready but I think I’ll go in now just to prep you know? I don’t know when I’ll be back. If it’s a good night for the party it’ll be early tomorrow… if not who knows. There’ll be a party if it is, I suppose, which you can come to if you want?”
Alan smiled, trying to hide his unease, “Yeah of course babe.”
“Good.” Charlie smiled and stroked his hair again.
“I’ll see you later then?” Alan asked.
“Of course.” Charlie kissed his forehead softly then, grabbing his coat, left the room. Alan heard the door close softly and the rolled over in bed. It was midday, but working could wait.
---
When Allan woke up again the sun was starting to go down, and he groggily checked the Telewatch on his wrist – 17:30. So much for working, he thought, but then he hadn’t got home until five in the morning, so sleep was deserved. He wondered when he’d get to sleep… not until late, certainly, because he had to watch the election results coming in, if only for Charlie’s sake.
Thoughts of politics and catching a picture of his family in the corner of his eye made his heart sink. His parents were Citizens’ voters, and he was sure the twins had been voting for the Socialists as long as they knew anything about politics… only his older sister, Adriana, was smart enough to vote for the Green Front. They were outcasts in a northern family, he supposed, and the Citizens’ Party, and the liberation movement that had birthed it, were in his blood. Not that he, or anyone sensible, believed in tribal allegiances, but he still felt a tie to that old cause. He tried to put the thoughts from his mind.
He ate dinner, reheated lasagne Charlie had made the night before, alone in their luxury kitchen and then sat himself down on the designer leather sofa in front of their forty-two-inch TV. Being Charlie’s boyfriend certainly had its perks. He switched it on with their new “Omni-remote” (or the one remote to rule them all as his friend Amy had called it) and turned to an NBA newsfeed, before going back into the kitchen to poor himself a glass of red wine and stick one of the older bottles of Champagne in the fridge. Just in case the election was good news.
Protestors have clashed with a National Integrity cell near Leader of the Opposition Gideon Osborne’s campaign headquarters… the slow drawl of the presenter floated into the kitchen as Alan absentmindedly went about his task… the Alliance Party leader, despite death threats, has decided to stay in place until the election results are announced, in what some are calling “a last-ditch effort to prove his strength”. Alan frowned – hardly impartial reporting there, but then what was these days… still it would be nice if the NBA didn’t go the way of the BBC before it. All the protests around Osborne worried him… he was an Alliance supporter at heart– if shy about it, and who wouldn’t be considering his social situation… deep down he was hoping Osborne would be kingmaker… or perhaps even Prime Minister. That, of course, would rather upset Charlie and his radical young friends.
He returned to the sofa and reclined, flicking from the NBA coverage to get the online Livecast Charlie was going to be in. There had been worries about foreign actors taking down British broadcasters like had happened back in 2011, but it seemed like the security services was able to stay on top of things. 17:58, that meant two minutes or so more before the election exit poll was published on NBA and then Charlie and his cohort would be on to give rolling coverage. Alan yawned and then took another sip of the red, scrolling through various Social Media feeds on his phone – optimism from all quarters except for the Alliance camp… this had been predicted as the worst election for the political centre ground since the National Democratic dictatorship had taken power… Heath’s national government hadn’t been as unpopular as Gideon was, miraculously.
The election result, Alan was dimly and frightenedly aware, could totally change the conclusions of his work… Values was still a fringe movement, Mike Pence’s little cohort was scoring around twenty or so electoral votes in every election, whilst the Nat Dems had the chance to form the Official Opposition here. For the first time since Tebbit had seized power, the party had a real chance of holding the levers of power… from both an academic and personal perspective the whole thing was vaguely terrifying.
Then the election coverage began.
“The Mainstream Media have published their main exit poll for this election,” Came the insufferable voice of The Truth’s main anchor Milo Wagner, “And it really is remarkable.”
Allan’s mouth dropped as the results of the exit poll appeared on the television, flashing up the seat totals on a brightly coloured bar chart.
“The National Democrats are leading on 41% of the vote, followed by the Citizens’ Party on 29%, the Liberal-Conservative Alliance on 20%, then we have the minor parties trailing, with Zac Goldsmith’s Green Front on 4%, the Scottish Democrats on 2% and the Northern Irish parties collectively having 3%. The rest went to parties too unimportant to waste our precious, precious time on.” The cast all laughed at that.
“So,” Milo started again, “Any thoughts?”
Charlie spoke first, stunning as always in a sharp suit, “Well, least of all it shows how the British people have thoroughly rejected the old Establishment, and if these figures are correct it paves the way for the first National Democrat government since the end of the emergency.” That was what they always called the long national nightmare of the dictatorship… these ultra-right wing pundits.
From there the coverage kept rolling in, the only interesting part was an interview they did with some nutter in the Green Front talking about forced population reduction and “Eco-Nationalism”, whatever the fuck that meant. The old talking points about how Gordon Brown had failed as Citizens’ second Prime Minister – after Robin Cooke’s resignation – and was failing again as its third were all walked out and done to death, and eventually Allan drifted off to sleep sometime around midnight.
---
Alan woke up again early in the morning to a full slate of results being displayed on the screen, and his boyfriend and his colleagues cheering and sipping at champagne. I gazed in horror at the results – the National Democrats were just off a majority, with the Green Front and Ulster Solidarity parties able to grant them confidence and supply. He quickly changed the channel to see the end of a report about a clash between the Citizen’s League and National Integrity on the streets of London, then again to the Prime Minister making a speech to the nation. The man looked grey and older, older even than he had done the day before.
And so I must sadly admit the failures of my government, and the triumph of right wing populism, of fascism, over the forces of moderation. Although a National Democratic government is not certain, I cannot continue to serve this nation as Prime Minister and must resign effective immediately… Allan slumped back in his chair and saw on social media that Gideon Osborne had already made a speech in which he accepted “Alliance’s failure to represent the British people, and their loss of their position as the official opposition”. The result was everything that the pundits and scaremongers had conjured up as the worst possible alternative…
Twenty years ago would anyone have dreamt of this? That the party of the dictatorship in alliance with the revanchists left over after the border war in Ireland and Alan Clark’s Green Front might ally together to form a government? The street violence, an NBA announcer said, was even worse in Belfast… Ulster Solidarity clashing with the few remaining Catholics in the city. One voice even suggested that pogroms might start up again, driving Catholic refugees over the “compromise” border drawn up and policed by the UN since the failure of Ulster’s UDI and re-annexation into the UK in the 1970s.
Finally, the National Democrat leader appeared on TV.
Rejoice, rejoice! As one of the greatest figures in my party’s history once said after she cracked down on the enemy within. The grinning new face of British politics began, and, in a very real sense, today is a day of renewal! The excesses of the regimes of the last twenty years shall come to an end… the weakness and the acquiescence to the neoliberal agenda of our enemies across both the Atlantic and the Channel shall be brought to heal! The merciless cyber-attacks of the Russians and Chinese will be countered! The burden of Catholic refugees on our cities alleviated, and the attacks of the IRA stopped once and for all, whatever the cost. The man was whipping himself into a frenzy, but no doubt a certain section of the population would only be more inspired, When the first leader of my party took office on one fateful day in 1980 we were at a breaking point, as we are today! It is now time once again to strive for renewal and reformation!
As rapturous applause met the grinning soon-to-be Prime Minister Alan began to swear and cry all at once… Was this what Charlie had wanted? He could still remember the screaming, and the blood, and the pain as the Catholic Liberation Army had bombed the quarter all those years ago… he could see in his mind the scars on Charlie’s back that he had traced so many times from the day… Could still remember seeing the steel that he now saw in his eyes every day – the dedication to get revenge for his own injuries and those Alan himself had suffered. For the death of their friends. It seemed Charlie could ignore the offences of the National Democrats against gays if it meant revenge against those who had hurt the two of them. He would go to any extent, support any cause, to exact the reparation he felt was owed to him for all they had suffered.
As Alan flicked off Tony Blair’s vitriolic and violent speech to see his own boyfriend’s joyous reaction he went to fetch another glass of wine before simply gripping the neck of the bottle tightly. At least, a part of him supposed, there would be another party to attend…