TLIAFD: "What Is Going On?"

“WHAT IS GOING ON?”

A TLIAFD BY EDWARD W FEERY


*****​

Results of the Bootle By-Election, May 24th 1990


Labour, Michael Carr - 26,737
Conservative, James Clappison - 3,220
Liberal Democrat, John Cunningham - 3,209
Green, Sean Brady - 1,269
Monster Raving Loony, David 'Screaming Lord' Sutch - 445
Liberal, Kevin White - 399
Social Democrat, Jack Holmes - 201
Independent, T.J. Schofield - 21

Turnout 35,501
Majority 23,517
 
Oh, God.

What?

You're jumping on another PolitiBrit bandwagon, aren't you? Y'know, one meet-up does not a classic legend make, mate.

Look, the TLIAD concept is a perfect means of exploring interesting if sometimes implausible ideas and a perfectly enjoyable little writing exercise.

You aren't a writer.

Seba Rashii Culture Zine have published four of my reviews in the past month, thank you very much.

You're even doing the fake-conversation-with-bolded-sentences bit! (And not very well, either...) Is there *anything* original going on here?

I'm being 'meta'. It was all the rage back in the golden days of Meadow and V-J with their 'PM Boothroyd's and 'Major wins in '97's. Besides, it's tradition. You have to do it if it's tradition. Tradition's what being a PolitiBrit is all about.

You sound like a Daily Mail columnist.

You take that back!

...No. And what's the 'F' about?

It stands for 'Few'. Asn in, 'Time-Line In A Few Days'. I do have a job, you know.

How despondently realist.

Was the sarcasm really necessary?

Yes. Yes it was.

Look, can you just leave me alone and let me get on with writing the bloody thing?

Only if you stop procrastinating.

Maybe later.
 
Bootle, May 24/25th 1990

David Sutch was a man in shock. He probably wasn't the only one in the room who felt that way, but that part of him still capable of rational thought was willing to guess he felt a lot better about it than most of the others.

Fucking hell, he thought through the haze of adrenalin, people actually voted for us! We put 'Raving Loony' right there in the bloody name, and we've beaten two actual serious political parties in a real election...

The SDP contingent seemed, as one, to be cradling their heads in their hands. Sutch almost felt sorry for them; he knew how terrible it could feel to lose a deposit, and he was a comedy politician - they were supposed to be a real party (almost sorry, yes... actually sorry? Not quite).

As he scanned the hall, his brain crackling as the adrenaline coursing through it began to drain away, his gaze met that of the Liberal candidate, Kevin White. The fellow's expression, already displeased, darkened noticeably. Sutch held his gaze for several long moments, breaking away only when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Lord Sutch?” said the BBC runner, giving him a genial smile, “If you'd like to follow me...”

Sutch glanced back at the still-scowling White, grinned hugely, and essayed a cheery wave before following the runner to the press area. He could've sworn he heard, behind him, a muffled bellow of rage.
 

Thande

Donor
Interesting start, only a very minor change to OTL...in OTL Sutch came in between the continuity Liberal and continuity SDP candidates, so only the SDP got tarred with the brush of being beaten by a Loony. Maybe that's part of the knock-on effect, to kill the continuity Liberals in Liverpool where they have had minor success in OTL?
 
Interesting start, only a very minor change to OTL...in OTL Sutch came in between the continuity Liberal and continuity SDP candidates, so only the SDP got tarred with the brush of being beaten by a Loony. Maybe that's part of the knock-on effect, to kill the continuity Liberals in Liverpool where they have had minor success in OTL?

Oh, it's a bit more widespread than that... ;):D

But yeah, this is basically me having a bit of fun with something that popped into my head on holiday. The regional connection is purely coincidental - although, as it happens, we'll be back in Bootle before too long.

Speaking of which, I have another update pretty much in the bag - I'll try and post it before I leave for work tomorrow, otherwise I'll get it up in the evening (oo-er) along with at least one more, hopefully two.
 
Normally the POD is a pretty obviously going to have some effect but further killing the rump Liberals can't be that much of a gamechanger.
 
Normally the POD is a pretty obviously going to have some effect but further killing the rump Liberals can't be that much of a gamechanger.

With a POD more than 23 years ago, one must never underestimate the butterfly effect (tbh, given how fast the world moves nowadays, a tiny POD 12 months ago could have substantial impact on the situation today). And besides, even if this is 'just' a small-scale 'gamechanger' in regional politics, small-scale TLs can be really interesting. They're a rare treat in a world of 'Zhirinovsky's Russian Empire's.

Besides, off the top of my head I can see a smidgeon more coverage for the Loonies snowballing into something just large enough to have an impact on a few knife-edge seats in the 1992 election. If enough OTL disenchanted voters/quiet Tories either turn up to vote unlike OTL or vote OMRLP to 'send a message to Major', the Tory majority could end up ever-so-slightly smaller and the potential for butterflies there is huge.

And then there's the fact that this could lead to a change in Sutch's personal development, which may butterfly his tragic suicide and (in political terms) keep the Loonies as a front-page political force. More than hilarity would ensue from that!

Looking forward to more of this, Ed.
 

d32123

Banned
With a POD more than 23 years ago, one must never underestimate the butterfly effect (tbh, given how fast the world moves nowadays, a tiny POD 12 months ago could have substantial impact on the situation today). And besides, even if this is 'just' a small-scale 'gamechanger' in regional politics, small-scale TLs can be really interesting. They're a rare treat in a world of 'Zhirinovsky's Russian Empire's.

Not that that's a bad thing. Zhirinovsky's Russian Empire is a fantastic TL.

That said, subscribed.
 
Not that that's a bad thing. Zhirinovsky's Russian Empire is a fantastic TL.

That said, subscribed.

To each their own. And I'm more making the point that in a forum dominated by 'holy shit, nukes, dystopias and big evil characters causing huge events' TLs (some of which I freely admit to having written!) it's refreshing to see someone start so small.
 
Thank you all for the kind words, guys. Progress on this is going to be a bit slower than I thought over the weekend - after tonight, there probably won't be any updates until Sunday - but rest assured that it will continue.
 
On which note - Update! By which I mean, a few hundred words of daftness involving my (probably wholly inaccurate) take on David Owen, which does little to advance the plot but was immense fun to write :p

*****​

Westminster, May 26th 1990

“Fuck.”

David Owen did not like to think of himself as a man given over to irrational hatred of his political opponents. That said, less than forty-eight hours ago he would never have thought of the deranged egotist in the top hat as a political opponent. And yet here he was, having to watch as his party was compared to compared to a bunch of self-professed – self-professed! - 'Raving Loonies'. The hatred of that silly little man and his band of attention-seekers burned in the pit of his stomach, and it disgusted him.

He should probably cut down on the swearing, but right now it was the only form of catharsis short of a homicide charge.

A bottle of embarrassingly cheap whiskey exhausted itself with a slosh.

Alright, the only other form of catharsis.

“Fuck,” he muttered again, staring into the glass and wondering why on earth he was drinking paraffin – or, come to that, why the off-licence was selling it.

What the SDP was facing wasn't an embarrassment; it was a humiliation. When you had fallen so low that twice as many people voted for a political burlesque than the representative of a serious political party, one had to ask oneself some serious questions. Starting with “what the fuck is the point of carrying on a cause the voting public do not give a shit about?”, swiftly followed by “who the hell allowed this rotgut to be sold legally?” and “why are you relying on the television for company?”

He raised his eyes from his glass in time to see a by now horribly familiar expression of smugness cross the screen. Every current affairs show seemed to suddenly be a determined advocate of feeding David Sutch's ego, and his by-election interview with the BBC was all but tattooed on Owen's retinas. He put his glass aside lest he be tempted to throw it at the prick's stupid, smug grin.

Low as the volume was, he still heard the interviewer ask if the OMRLP candidate had any words for the Liberals or SDP, and tensed. He knew what was coming, had heard it so often by now that he had the timing down pat, but it still stung. It probably always would.

There was the briefest of pauses, and then, right on cue:

“Well, we'd be delighted to form a coalition with them. After all, if two parties are better than one, just think how good three must be!”

It took a horrifying amount of personal control not to just grab the glass and throw it at the screen. Instead, he lunged drunkenly across the room and fumbled for the off button. The horrible laughing mask froze for a moment and then winked out of existence.

Standing in the sudden darkness, swaying from the whiskey, David Owen had a moment of sudden, horrifying clarity: get out now. If he wanted even the slightest scrap of dignity, now was the time to admit it was over and extract himself from the wreckage. Time to end this disastrous social democratic experiment.

...First thing tomorrow. Or at least as soon as the room stopped spinning.

Drunk, depressed and feeling utterly defeated, David Owen toppled slowly to the carpet.

“Fuck.”
 
With a POD more than 23 years ago, one must never underestimate the butterfly effect (tbh, given how fast the world moves nowadays, a tiny POD 12 months ago could have substantial impact on the situation today). And besides, even if this is 'just' a small-scale 'gamechanger' in regional politics, small-scale TLs can be really interesting. They're a rare treat in a world of 'Zhirinovsky's Russian Empire's.

Well, the TL has diverged a fair bit in Zhirinovsky's Russian Empire in my opinion, while I do agree that could have diverged a lot more in the few years the TL has dealt with.


Also, enjoying this TL I am.
 
Leeds, June 28th 1990

There are few memorable quotes about the clarinet, and most of them are cruel. When applied to Michael Meadowcroft, they were also currently quite accurate.

Normally, the leader of the Continuity Liberals found an hour or so spent playing jazz of an evening soothed the nerves wonderfully. Tonight, however, he found himself too preoccupied to concentrate properly, what with the horrific events in Bootle floating in his mind.

It was no use saying they would bounce back from this; that they were the Liberals, and as such would always be there. The certainty was gone, and now they were in a fight for their very survival. They had to come back from this, simply had to, lest they risk becoming an even bigger joke than the one they had lost to.

He gave up the clarinet as a lost cause for the evening, and packed it away. As he took the music down, one sheet came loose and fluttered to the ground. He bent to retrieve it, and it was only then that he noticed the song title: 'The Old Grey Mare She Ain't What She Used To Be'.

Meadowcroft shoved it forcefully back into the pile, and spent the rest of the night trying to remind himself he didn't believe in omens.
 
Last update of the night/morning. I seem to be writing a lot of internal monologues at the moment, and not really advancing the plot... Ah well, consider it character establishment. Next update should move things on a bit.

*****​

London, June 3rd 1990

Jack Holmes turned his face from the death throes of his party, an activist scorned.

Bastards, he muttered in the privacy of his own skull, what the hell gives them the right to take this away from me? They weren't the ones who had to stand on that stage in Bootle last week.They've never done a fucking thing. It's always the little guys, the people like me. I did the groundwork. I took the fall. I believed. And all for what? So the big-shot former cabinet secretary can pull the plug on his pet project because it doesn't suit his aims?

This was a dark day for British politics, that much was obvious. The people were being denied the social democratic future they deserved by the very people who should be fighting for it the strongest. The fact that they weren't voting for it just went to show how badly they needed it.

Well, if David Owen and his ilk wouldn't stand up for them, then Jack Holmes sure as hell would! This wasn't the end of the SDP, oh no. There was still a cause to fight for and an embarrassment to avenge, and it fell to him to him to lead the fight.

Jack Holmes was going to show them. He was going to show them all.
 

Thande

Donor
This should be interesting. OTL the Continuity SDP are still today getting councillors elected in odd parts of North Yorkshire...
 
IT LIVES!

*****​

Bootle, November 8th 1990

Even after four years as a Regional Organiser in the Labour heartlands of the North West, Peter Kilfoyle still felt nervous on election nights; even so, tonight was the worst he'd been in a long while. Maybe it was the knowledge that he'd be doing this himself in a year or two (and wasn't that going to be fun, an anti-Militant activist replacing Militant's Parliamentary spokesman... no, focus, Peter, you have a job to do; daydream about body-slamming Derek Hatton later); more likely it was the lingering absence of his old comrade Mike Carr, whose sudden and shocking death had brought them back here just months after that triumphant night in May. Kilfoyle still recalled his friend's victory with fondness, but he had to admit that what he'd really cherished was the utter humiliation of the Splitting Desperately Party at the hands of the Loonies. And, speaking of the devil...

As if propelled by some mysterious force of narrative, Jack Holmes brushed past on his way to the platform. How his Continuity-Continuity party had managed to scrape together a deposit for tonight was beyond him – their campaign had been truly woeful, for all that Holmes had gotten the soapbox out in style this past week – but they were here and they were hostile.

“Excuse me,” muttered Holmes, barging Kilfoyle aside with his shoulder.

“Back fer another spankin', are yer?” he murmured, causing the SDP leader's head to snap around sharply. Not a man given to gaiety, Kilfoyle just cocked an eyebrow at him; the other man turned and continued on his way, his mood ever so slightly darker.

In the distance he could see Sutch and his ragtag bunch clamouring for a good position. The two made eye contact, and there was a moment of frigidity before the OMRLP man broke off and went back to joking with his followers. Evidently the 'Kinnock's Killjoys' incident from the last by-election still rankled, and Kilfoyle didn't blame them; not only was it deeply petty (and based on a law that had been repealed just three years ago), but using a pub as a political headquarters was an idea he felt he could get behind.

The returning officer took to the stage and launched into the normal opening gambit of insincere thanks and appeals for quiet. Once the din had dropped from 'deafening' to 'irritable', she launched into the results.

“Joseph Edward Benton, Labour – twenty-one thousand eight hundred and forty-two votes...”

Well, that was over quickly. Labour hold; four-thousand fewer votes than last time, but given the party's virtual stranglehold here nothing to worry about. Given the short time between by-elections, he might even have increased the party's vote-share. He glanced at Benton, still looking slightly nervous, as the Labour sector – which was most of the hall – went bananas. His socialism, Kilfoyle knew for a fact, was distinctly self-interested nature – his idea of equality revolved around taking away the privileges of the rich, without giving up even an inch of his own. No friend of Militant, that was for sure, but liable to be trouble down the line.

“Sean Brady, Greens – six hundred and forty-eight votes...”

Brady had lost about half his votes from last time, then – still, quite a respectable result for the Green Party there, especially in a part of the world where they were still colloquially known as “fucken' hippies”.

“William James Clappison, Conservative – two thousand, five hundred and eighty six votes...”

Better luck next time, you Tory twat.

“John Cunningham, Liberal Democrats – two thousand, one hundred and twelve votes...”

The Lib Dems would be disappointed they didn't beat the Tories to second place after last time, but otherwise an unremarkable outcome.

“Jack Holmes, Social Democratic Party – two hundred and sixty-one votes...”

Better than last time, then – not that that was saying much. Hope those masochists found that pummelling worth it...

“Lord David Sutch, Official Monster Raving Loony Party – three hundred and ten votes...”

There was a collective intake of breath in the hall which drowned out the cheers of the tiny Loony delegation. The Splitters had lost to Sutch, come back for a rematch, and lost again. Kilfoyle risked a glance at Holmes; he looked as if the bottom had just dropped out of his world.

The returning officer, sensing the mood in the room, paused for a moment before reading out the last result. It was probably just to allow for calm to prevail once more, but Kilfoyle sensed there was more to it than that. He watched her delicately lick her lips, and found himself doing the same, as much out of anticipation as lubrication.

“Kevin White, Liberal Party – two hundred and thirteen votes...”

For just a split second, you could have heard a pin drop. Sutch's face had gone oddly shiny, Kevin White appeared to be catatonic, and Holmes now looked as though the world was about to drop out of his bottom.

The reality of what had just transpired seemed to occur to those present all at once... and then: bedlam.
 
Why exactly would there be bedlam. I understand that the continuity SDP/Liberals are doing worse than OTL but why on earth would the fact that a bunch of no hopers and even more hopeless cause that much excitement?
 
This makes me so excited when I'm reading it. I enjoy your obviously encyclopaedic knowledge of northwest politics and it's really refreshing to see it come to the fore in a (so far) small-scale TL rather than 'LOL SUPERDEVOLUTION NORTHWEST PARLIAMENT HEY GUYS ROBIN COOK BECOMES LORD PROTECTOR'. Odd tangents aside, my point here is that you're using an impressive knowledge-base to build a detailed and believable scenario, and that's extremely refreshing.

Your humour and narrative style are excellent too, you pepper them with little nuggets of information and exposition while also creating pretty 3D figures in the little snapshots of their lives that we see them in.

As for the most recent events - so the Loonies beat the SDP and the Liberals again, but this time the SDP... beat the Liberals. Hoo boy.

Why exactly would there be bedlam. I understand that the continuity SDP/Liberals are doing worse than OTL but why on earth would the fact that a bunch of no hopers and even more hopeless cause that much excitement?

I think you need to spend some time in the company of local government big cheeses to understand why a decrease in the vote for the Morley Independents or a shock defeat for the Waddon United Against The Incinerator Grouping can elicit stronger personal reactions than a declaration of war.
 
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