TLIAW: Daughters of Elysium - The European Federal Election of 2019

[Major Crimson]

​

Oh no.

Oh yeah!

A TLIAW? And one with the weird internal monologue at the start?

Listen I'm a sucker for bandwagons.

Election nights are so over done, don't you have a shred of creativity?

They are not! I take a great deal of pride in ripping off proper Politbrits. And I clearly do, just look at this beautiful artwork I created.

The bear is blurry. And is that a bee?

It is. It is a bee.

Brilliant. Well, what's it all about then?

The name's pretty accurate, to be honest, just wait and see. I'll finally get around to posting things tomorrow and (hopefully) it'll be done within a week, I already have 10,000 words written out so its already not the shortest TLIAW in the world.

Oh wow, it might not be an utter failure then.

Maybe not.

Maybe.

Again, you'll just have to wait and see...

 

[galileo-034]

A federation? To go that way, it had to have been an easier path for integration than IOTL.
Is that a parliamantary election or a 'presidential' one in the US style (I'm interested as I tried once to explore that venue without much success)?

 

[Major Crimson]

A federation? To go that way, it had to have been an easier path for integration than IOTL.
Is that a parliamantary election or a 'presidential' one in the US style (I'm interested as I tried once to explore that venue without much success)?

The history of the organisation is entirely different to OTL, with some minor butterfly nets so there's room for the Federation to pop up where it might not have OTL.

And its Parliamentary, definitely, there are "Presidential" elections but they're not really a big deal and it's closer to France than the US. All will be revealed and talked about in the TL as it goes on.

 

[Major Crimson]

​

Oxford
June 11th, 2019
9.48 PM


“I’m sorry sir, strictly tickets only.”

“No no, it's quite alright” Arthur protested, holding one hand out as if in an attempt to ward off the bouncer and erratically ruffling through each of his pockets with the other. The biggest problem with going to for the suit and purple tie, other than the fact that it made him look like a ponce, was that he had 12 different pockets to hide a ticket in.

“I’ve got it here somewhere, I was one of the first to buy one! I’m Secretary for the Co-op Club and-“

The bouncer failed to keep a sigh in, Artie guessed that the ageing Yorkshireman had heard more than his fair share of self-important students throw around petty club titles as if they meant anything.

“Sir, if you can’t find a ticket then you need to le-“

With far more drama than the situation demanded, Arthur whipped the scrap of paper from his breast pocket and held it high.

“Here you are!” The bouncer nodded and gestured through the archway, where Artie joined a stream of ever so slightly intoxicated students and turned the corner into the bar. The Oxford Union was the place to be on election night, at least for those students who didn’t think that the place was an exclusive den of toffs, hacks and ideologues. Entering the bar, Arthur found the room full to burst with a veritable rainbow of campaigners and one-day political hopefuls, gossiping and whispering in little colour coded groups around the room. Elections must have been a lot easier when there was a two party system. Glancing about it didn’t seem that any of his friends or even his colleagues in the club had made it out yet, probably too “bougie” for half of them anyway. Shrugging silently to himself, he turned to the bar itself and hopped up onto a stool.

“Pint of-“

“SPECIAL PARTY COCKTAILS ONLY €2 EACH!” exclaimed the rather excitable bartender who had clearly been knocking himself back a coalition.

Arthur forced a smile and tapped the round, wolf-bearing pin on his lapel. “I’ll take the… CoOp-racao.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Taking a sip from the bright purple concoction he tried his hardest not to gag and thanked God on high that he didn’t have to endure the Confeder-ol mix of Swedish larger and blue food dye. Wishing he’d gone for the pint instead, Artie checked his watch – 9.50, still a good ten minutes before the polls closed. He’d gotten his vote in, along with some pals, many hours earlier and it felt good to vote for the first time, he just hoped it’d mean something.

“AJ!” he heard the voice a second before the hand collided into his back. Ever-so-slightly bruised, Arthur turned to find the – somewhat intoxicated – head of the Green/Red Oxford Alliance standing before him. “How are you old sport?”

Arthur smiled, “Alright Mike but aren’t you meant to call me comrade or something? ‘Old Sport’ is far too reactionary for the future hero of the revolution.” Michael Gwenyn was a round, red faced man with an ill-fitting red and green t-shirt and a few randomly scattered tufts of stubble on his face.

“Oh come on Artie, you of all people know that the revolution is so much bigger than that. We’re in for a good night I feel.” By “we” Mike meant the Left-Ecologist coalition and he seemed to be the only person on earth who thought they stood any chance of not getting obliterated. Panting and somewhat wobbly, Mike grabbed himself a stool and pulled up to the table. Noticing Arthur’s almost entirely untouched drink, he offered his own which was, for some reason, a rather suspicious yellow colour.

“Ours is watermelon!”

“Appropriate! Ours is shit.”

“Also appropriate!” Mike winked and Arthur gave him a punch in the arm before making a final attempt at his curacao-based nightmare. “Heard anything from your HQ?” Mike asked.

Artie bit his lip. “No, but no news is bad news. You?”

Mike shrugged. “Polling’s bad but what can you expect when a cabal of half a dozen businessmen own all the polling companies, first policy should be nationalising the poll companies.” They both forced out a chuckle, if the evidence panned out then the night was going to be a punishing one for the pair of them.

“Anyway, here’s to smashing capitalism.” As they toasted the coming socialist victory, a couple in almost matching colours sat down next to them.

“Evening boys,” Leo Daniels said, smiling. His foppish blonde hair, neat RAF style moustache and clean, navy suit marked him out as every bit the stereotypical public-school boy. The affected accent helped too, as did the oversized rosette loudly bearing the words “VOTE TORY, VOTE CONFEDERAL!”

“Alright Leo,” Artie replied and, glancing at the garish adornment “You do know you’re not actually running for office yet?”

Making a noise that could only be interpreted as a “guffaw” and stroking one side of his moustache with a thumb, Leo replied “Give it a year or four, I’ve already got an internship lined up in the Treasury. Daddy was fag for the Chancellor.”

Dreading the day that he ever made it into power, Arthur turned to the woman on his right. “Good to see you, Anna.”

Annabel Adler nodded confidently and grinned. “Good to see you too Artie, Mike. I think it's going to be an extremely exciting night for all of us.” Anna’s Hamburg roots were easy to hear but her two-and-a-half years at Oxford, as well as her role within the tiny British branch of the Christian People’s Party, had blended in elements of an RP accent.

“You’re going to lose seats you know.” Mike said and she nodded, confidently. “Of course, it has been a hard few years for the union but Mutti is as popular as ever and honestly, when have we ever done as poorly as that last poll said? They were wrong in 09, they’ll be wrong tonight.”

Conventional wisdom and indeed the conventional powers that be had been saying such things for months.

“Anyway, everyone is happier and richer than ever!”


“Tell that to the homeless.” opined Arthur.

“And the unemployed.” Mike joined in.

“And the Army!” Hugh finished, desperate to be included.


She batted away their points as if they were a particularly annoying fly, “Technicalities! It’s going to be another boring night, just like the last four.”

Just as she finished talking, the laughter and warmth of the room faded a little as a procession of men - and only men - stomped in, most of them clad in black, perfectly ironed shirts that were just irregular enough to fall short of a uniform. Their timing had to be deliberate and Arthur wondered if they’d just been poised, waiting outside the door for their dramatic entrance.


“Fascist pigs.” Mike spat, following them as they migrated towards a back corner of the bar. “Why the fuck they aren’t banned I’ll never know.”


“Now now,” Hugh waggled a bony finger and grinned, “The Vigilant are a good sort. Proper Patriots, a little brash sure but I promise you they’re sound, sound gents. Why, I see at least one Churchill in there.”


Artie patted Mike on the back, “Don’t worry mate, we’ll send ‘em packing. We all know Anna’s lot are going to win anyway.”


“TURN IT UP, IT'S COMING ON.” Someone shouted from the back of the room. Immediately, a hundred pairs of eyes snapped to the massive LCD in front of them as the letters E.B.C. rolled into view before a massive “1” slammed down behind them. As the volume went up from silent to blaring, dulcet welsh tones told the room “…for the next twelve hours, so strap in, it's time – for the Federal Election, 2019.”

 

[andry2806]

This is officialy better than porn.

 

[Analytical Engine]

My body is ready.

 

[shiftygiant]

You have my interest.

 

[The Professor]

More importantly is there still a song contest?

 

[Analytical Engine]

More importantly is there still a song contest?

And how often have non-Scandinavian countries won.

 

[TimTurner]

Watched.

 

[Major Crimson]

​

A slight cheer went up throughout the room, and people turned to each other in hushed but energetic conversation as EBC shot through a rapid montage of the past two months of campaigning. The Minister-President smiling and shaking hands with voters in Czechoslovakia, a changing of the guard on the Polish/Soviet Border, black-clad volunteers handing out fliers covered in Union Jacks and European Flags, the Italian Leader of the Democrats kissing a baby and finally spinning around Big Ben and the EBC Head Office in London.

Panning down from rafters full of cameras, lights and an assortment of other gear, the television screen zoomed towards a red desk, behind which sat the ever-angry looking and slightly scruffy face of Charlie Brooker.

“Good Evening ladies and gentlemen,”

“Lord,” Hugh muttered, “why in Gods name did they think this fellow would be a good follow-up to old Dimbles?”

Artie shrugged. “ I like him, bet you anything he’s one of ours. They probably just wanted to spice it up a little”

“Tonight,” the face on the television continued, “from the Atlantic to the Danube the people of Europe will have their say in just who runs the Federation. With the polls tightening, it looks like we’ll be in for a busy night and to bring you the results we here at the EBC have assembled a crack team of experts, whiz kids and the occasional weirdo to bring you an in depth look at how and maybe why the votes were cast.”

Brooker tapped his pen against the table and the camera span around and down to a sofa below his platform. “Louis Theroux will be giving our guests a right grilling as the winners and losers find themselves on his sofa.” Theroux, clad in a neat suit and tie but bereft of the beard he’d been sporting for the last few months, cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly.

“Thanks Charlie, yes tonight I’ll be joined by a series of British and European politicians as well as some commenters, pollsters and experts to give their thoughts on what goes down. Join me later when the Prime Minister and Leader of HM’s Opposition will be giving their thoughts on the results.” As the camera span away again, Annabel let out a deep sigh.

“God he’s hunky.”

“Not my type.” Mike muttered.

Before Arthur had the chance to berate her on her terrible taste in men, Brooker had moved on.

“And handling a series of no doubt subtle and tasteful CGI wonders are Huw Edwards over at the map room.” the camera cut to the somewhat grumpy looking Welshman standing like a bored god on a massive map of Europe, each country and province coloured white. “Yes, Charlie, here I’ll be mapping the votes as they come in but remember, Council Ministers are appointed proportionally within each country, small ones like Switzerland, Ireland or Finland have just 25 whereas Britain, France and Germany have 125, with lots of other countries in between. When a country is declared we’ll light it up in the colour of the winner so you can see the results rolling in from east” he gestured out in the direction of the Soviet Union, “to west.”, swinging an arm around to point at Britain. “It’s going to be a very exciting night!” Edwards smiled but seemed a little miffed that, again, he’d been passed over for the top presenting job.

Brooker seemed not to notice. “Thanks, Huw. And next, it’s Victoria Coren, who will be crunching the numbers for us.” For her part, Coren looked much more enthusiastic, stood, smiling, at the centre of a massive CG European Parliament. The massive white marble hall of the Federal Parliament held a thousand ornate chairs and the flags of each of the federations sixteen member states in a semicircle. Standing at the centre of all of these, was the even larger and raised chair of the Minister-President, flanked on either said by ten slightly less impressive seats for the various cabinet ministers. The entire digital production was empty bar Cohen, standing in the middle with a slab[2]-PDA[3] in hand.

“Hello, Charlie! Yes as the night goes on this hall will fill up with various figures to represent the newly elected Council Ministers from all across the Federation. Now,” she said walking from the digital podium to the edge of the empty seats “tonight not only will these figures be colour coded according to their party affiliation but for the first time we’ll be using the official logos and mascots of the party to fill the hall.”

Mike groaned at that but the rest of them smiled. Like everything in the European Federation, party logos had been standardised: simplistic animal designs with one colour. It made everything look pretty and neat but it was a little boring compared to the variety of the past. Some parties had chosen better than others.

“Seriously, they made us bloody bees!” Mike whined and threw back the rest of his watermelon cocktail. “Who the hell picks a bee? A green bee at that. How the hell do you show a bee in Parliament?”

Despite the audience protest, Cohen continued. “And here’s the makeup from 2014.”

From right to left of the great marble hemisphere they streamed in, a small huddle of black bulls, rampant and snorting: before navy lions, sat back with heads held high; sky blue eagles with wings folded neatly behind them; orange doves, looking somewhat cowed by their vicious neighbours; purple wolves with heads cocked to one side; green bees of a terrifying size that floated and swayed above the ground, and finally a thin line of crimson bears.

​

“Why wolves Art?” Hugh opined, “They’re rather ghastly beasts aren’t they?”

Arthur smiled and shook a finger. “I’m surprised an Old Etonian like you doesn’t know his Kipling. ‘Strength of the pack’ and all that.”


“I bet he prefers ‘White Man’s Burden.” Ann muttered.

As the whole digital chamber came into view, you could easily tell that the Eagles had the best of it. The seats were at least 30% sky-coloured and the sizable chunk of lions gave the blues a slim majority.

“As you can see,” Coren continued, “The CPP have the largest chunk of seats and with their Confederal allies were able to squeeze out a majority of 509. Now, if Minister-President Merkel wants to stay in power she’ll have quite a few options and whatever happens tonight it seems likely that she’ll be waltzing back into the Elysian Palace tomorrow morning.”

A brief chant of “Mutti! Mutti!” came up from the Christian Party supporters before being sushed down by the general audience.

“The CPP have formed governments with the Cons, Dems and even the now extinct Liberals in the past but in the 7 elections leading up to tonight, they’ve always been a part of the ruling coalition.” A few of the Soviets booed from the back. “From right to left we’ve got the Vigilant Coalition, mostly newcomers to the Chamber, they’ll be hoping to nab a few seats in Poland, Hungary and maybe even France. Even though the VA were polling well at the start of the campaign, even taking the lead once or twice, we’ve seen those numbers slip following controversial statements from Vigilant CMs. That’s coupled with a manifesto full of radical policies such as the repatriation of Soviet asylum seekers and an end to the European-Oceanic Alliance. There are even talks about building an alliance with Washington DC and the US but none of this has been official. Whilst Minister-President Merkel has strictly ruled out any power sharing arrangements with the Vigilant, they’ll be hoping to tip the scales in any right-of-centre government.”

From their dingy corner, the Vigilant backers started a dull chorus of “These Most Sacred Fatherlands”, although one particularly sloshed blackshirt seemed to be stuck on “Panzerlied”.

“Loving leftward, but not by much, we’ve got the Confederals.” A roar of WHEY when up from the Tories in the room. “Currently the biggest party in terms of UK support but lagging behind a lot of the others, they’re at 112 Council Ministers with 54 of them coming from the UK.”

“Tory scum!” Mike shouted through cupped hands and, whilst the bouncer outside gave him a nasty look, Leo simply turned up his nose.

“Of course moving on from them we have Mrs Merkel’s Christian People’s Party, currently on 397 and by far the largest group in the room. They’ve been having some trouble recently, both the Turkish Civil War and the Euro-shilling crash have hurt them and pilling suggests they could be on for their worst performance ever. We shouldn't discount the possibility, however, that Mrs Merkel’s own popularity might keep them afloat. To win, they’ll be looking for good performances in Germany, Sweden, Spain, Austria and Poland.”

“Moving over from Centre-Right to centre-left we come to the European Democrats or DEMS!”, Coren shouted the word as most people outside the party had taken to doing” as the rebrand insists.” Even the proudest Democrats shirked away from the new, bright orange “DEMS!” logo. Someone at the bar had it across the chest of their shirt and looked to be seriously considering streaking as a viable alternative.

“Now last time they had a good year, hitting 209 Councillors, forming the official opposition and winning their highest seat count since 1984. Controversy over their newest leader and a general sense of them being, to quote one Parisian commenter, “just a bit pathetic really”, has seen them trailing in the polls. Can they hold on to past gains? Their bases in France, the Netherlands and Denmark all need to stay firm if they’re in with any hope of being in government.”

“Onto the most ferocious looking of our animals, the Wolves of the Cooperative Party” Arthur cheered and held a fist high at the mention of his own party, even if he did refrain from bursting into song. “One of two parties tonight with British candidates at the helm, can their sacred Scotsman lead them into command of the Elysian Palace? They had a rough go of it in 2014, down from a solid 2009 performance to the rather smaller 191, slipping below the 200 mark for the first time since the 80s. Having said that, the Cooperatives have run a popular campaign and there's a lot of fuss online about their new leader, could this be their lucky year?”

“Coming onto our last two parties and reaching the definite left, the Left-Ecologists are hoping for a breakthrough tonight. They made good progress last year, up to 44, and are hoping to see that continue. Wales, Norway and Portugal are the places to watch for our watermelon bumblebees!”

Mike groaned as if his mum had just whipped out the baby photos and took a big swig of someone else's drink.

“Why couldn’t we be stags or badgers or something?” he demanded, “Anything but bloody bees.”

Coren, now having had quite the walk across what must have been a massive green-room seemed to be breathing heavily but persevered onto the final party.

“And last but not least, the Marxist Solidarity Front. Don’t let the size of these bears fool you, there’s only about a dozen of them in the chamber but with a new government in Leningrad and their French Firebrand at the helm, could the MSF finally get that breakthrough they’ve always been hoping for?”

Will tonight see the end of that Christian winning streak? Will the left make the breakthrough they’ve always wanted, or the Vigilant? Or will we be in for another centre-right win? It’s all to play for.”

The camera held on Coren for slightly too long as her smile went from enthusiastic to strained before Brookers face appeared back on screen. “Right and with the preview for Jungle Book 4 out of the way, it is-” Brooker glanced at his watch, “9.58 and 49 second which means I can reveal the exit poll and the first results in just over a minute. Remember, polls close at 10PM wherever you are. That means voting in the east ended at 8PM GMT and on the rest of the mainland at 9. It's just us Brits, the Portuguese and the Irish being awkward. The votes are already being counted in some parts of the Federation and in just a few seconds when Big Ben strikes ten, I’ll be able to give you the Preliminary results of our exit poll. This is a joint poll, conducted for EBC, F-SPAN and Sky by Ipsos Mori and is just a well-educated guess at how the night might turn out.” Checking the screen in front of him, “So in just a few seconds…”

All of a sudden the bells of Big Ben burst into life and the television screen jumped to a picture of the clock tower. In the Union Bar, silence fell and everyone instinctively leaned forwards. With excruciating slowness, the Bells chimed to a stop and a flash of white took over the screen, flying down from above the words, number and logo and logo slammed violently into view.

“And the results of our exit p- bloody hell!”

Brooker, the room and the entire continent fell silent for a second that lasted an hour. There, standing in front of them were the undeniable and impossible words:

VIGILANT LARGEST PARTY
406 Seats

Co-Op - 368
CON- 101
CPP - 50
L-E - 38
MSF - 22
DEMS! - 19
​

 

[The Professor]

!!!
And where did the skyblue sheep come from?

 

[Major Crimson]

!!!
And where did the skyblue sheep come from?

Oops! The CPP originally were rocking sheep but I ended up changing that, clearly not very well though! Fixed!

You have my interest.

Watched.

Great, hope you enjoy!

And how often have non-Scandinavian countries won.

More importantly is there still a song contest?

Obviously, its the biggest event of the year! Last Year's Winner was France's Michel Boise with "Take me Home" and yes I did just make that up on the spot.

This is officialy better than porn.

My body is ready.

Such praise! Strap in, it's a bumpy ride.

 

[Analytical Engine]

That's a big swing. A Canadian-style (and size) swing. That is, if the poll can be trusted.

One thing I have to know - why "cabinet minister" as a title? Just seems an odd choice of name.

 

[Major Crimson]

​

Jeers and shouts immediately filled the hall as the black bull stared down on the bar from above. The Blackshirts in the back seemed to have doubled in size, though that may have been Arthur’s imagination. For a few seconds, his brain shut down, slowly coming to terms with just what the numbers on the screen said.


Anna was fighting back tears, a third of the way into a bottle of gin, whilst Mike had joined a group of rather angry students stepping up to the blackshirts. The bouncer and a couple of Connies stood in between the two groups, trying their best to keep the dispute verbal. Shouts of “Racist bastard!” and “Commie scum!” shot back and forth between the bunches of black and red. Peeling his eyes away from the drama, Artie turned back to the TV.


“...profusely sorry for my choice of words, I was simply caught off guard by these… extraordinary results. Huw?”


Over on the first green screen, Huw Edwards was -oddly enough- as professional as ever.


“Thank you Charles. Now if we look at this projected onto our map, it pans out like this.”


Beneath his feet, Europes segments lit up or darkened out, the west turning a deep shade of purple whilst slowly fading to black as it crept east. Britain, Scandinavia, Northern France, North Germany and the Beleneux were all thick with Coop Purple, with the odd smattering of navy, light blue and orange. Poland, Hungary and Italy meanwhile were jet black.


“We’re seeing huge gains for the VA across the central and eastern Europe as well as in the newer, Mediterranean members of the Federation. This would be - by a significant margin - their best result at the European Council election. What you can also see, interestingly, is colossal gains for the Cooperative Party in the west. Cooperative Candidates haven’t come first in Britain in over 30 years but as we can see they appear to have swept northern Europe as well as the major population centres of Berlin, Prague, Lisbon and Paris.” Edwards pointed from city to city where, within a checkerboard of blue and black, purple hot spots lit up.


“Perhaps the most shocking event, besides the Vigilant gains, however, is the complete collapse of the Christian People’s Party. It seems that, whilst Mrs Merkel’s party has taken a minor hit in the popular vote they’ve been crushed in eastern Europe by a VA surge and beaten out by more united left wing vote in the north and west.


I will remind viewers that this is just an exit poll and we won’t have the first results for another few minutes. Over to you Charlie.”


Brooker, who had composed himself somewhat, still couldn’t stop his voice from cracking halfway through the second sentence. “Yeah, thanks, Huw. I supp-OSE it's down to Louis, who has the PM and the other one in.”


Louis Theroux’s mouth was a straight line as he stared directly into the camera. “Riiiiiiiight, thanks, Charlie. I’m sitting here with the Prime Minister, whose party are associated with the Confederals and the Leader of the Opposition, who backs the Cooperatives.”


Turning to face his guests, Louis found himself sitting across from one skinny, smooth headed man in a red tie and another whose blond hair seemed somehow even crazier than ever.


“First, Prime Minister. What we’re seeing is minor setbacks for your party and a massive surge for your rivals in the Vigilant Alliance, do you think your Government is in any way responsible for this European decline of traditional Conservatism?”


“Frankly Louis,” the great blusterer began, “That's a load of hogwash. I think you have to remember this is only an exit poll, if you look at the exit poll in the last British election it had my own party down by 34 seats when in fact-”


“-you were down by 10.” the Leader of the Opposition chimed in.


“Quite. Whats important to note is that it's a very chaotic election, lots of new party leaders and factors we just haven’t seen before, the poll could be a million miles away from the final result.I think by the end of the night you’ll see a Tory-backed Confederal government in the Palace.”


Theroux nodded and seemed to consider that for a moment. “So will the Confederal Party be open to a coalition involving the Vanguard?”


“Well I… I…” the PM fiddled with his collar “Whilst I am certainly a leader within the movement, the Conservative Party are only one part of a larger group and-”


“So you don’t have any power over that decision?”


“No! Well, yes. No. Listen… Mr Fillon and the party leadership-”


“Oh come on Boris,” the Leader of the Opposition butted in, “Is the Prime Minister seriously saying he’d support a coalition with Italian Fascists and Spanish Francoists?”


Louis nodded slowly, “Is that what you’re saying Prime Minister?”


“No! Well, there are no options off the table-”


“Not even for fascists?” Theroux probed.


“Well you see, I- I- I couldn't possibly say at this time. I wouldn’t call the Vigilant fascist per-se, they’re more a coalition of the more…” he searched for the right words, “Overly enthusiastic members of the right. Whatever the case. We must see how the night evolves.”


“And with the collapse of the CPP, do you think it was the correct decision for the Conservative Party to break away and form the Confederals as an entirely separate party? It’s no secret that the Conservative Party wanted more freedom and authority but given the turn of the Confederal Party to the right and the decline in the CPP today, do you think that decision remains the correct one?”


“Well Louis that was a move made not by me but by my predecessor and it had been nearly eleven years now since the split and what we’ve seen is more and more European parties signing up to be a part of our Confederals. Whilst we have a lot in common with the CPP, you’ve got to remember that we have utterly different views on the future of Europe. You will know that I am a committed and proud European but we in the Conservative Party and on a federal level the Confederal party think that the Federation should be loose and open, rather than the ever tightening bond the CPP support. I think it's been a success for us.”


“Thank you, Prime Minister.” Theroux turned to the leader of the opposition. “Now, Mr Lewis your Party’s allies have done extremely well tonight, can we expect similar results at the Westminister Elections next May?”


“Well I hope so!” came Clive Lewis’ enthusiastic reply, “Tonight is an excellent night for th Cooperative Party and here in the UK its good night for the Labour Party too. Obviously, I’m concerned at the rise in far right gains but I don’t think we’ll see them pan out, at least not to the degree that the exit poll implies.”


“Couldn’t you say,” Theroux inquired, “That its just that sort of complacency that’s allowing such dramatic gains for the Vigilant?”


The Leader of the Opposition paused for a moment and seemed to genuinely consider the point.


“Maybe,” he allowed, nodding and looking considerably less enthusiastic than before, “But nevertheless the night is young and we should be cautious about trusting the exit poll too much, it is only a guess after all. I do think, however, that at the end of the night the most likely outcome is our man in the Elysian Palace.”


“And he really is your man isn’t he.” Louis said, “In fact whilst there has been one Cooperative Minister-President before, there’s never been one from the Labour party or a British MP at all.”


“Well Louis,” the Leader of the opposition was now looking straight down the camera. “It looks like a night for firsts.”


“I would like to point out,” the Boris Johnson piped up, clearly frustrated to have been excluded from the discussion for so long, “That this exit poll does put the Confederal Party at its second best result, ever.”

“After last year.” Louis butted in.

“Yes, I think it's quite possible that, whoever the Minister-President ends up being, they just might be helped along by the Confederals.”

Theroux paused for a second and then, “Could you see your two parties entering into a coalition?”

In sync, both men barked a short laugh.

“No.” one said.

“No.” the other agreed.

“Right then, I know you’re both extremely busy gentlemen and Mr Lewis I imagine you’ll be wanting to head to your party HQ and be with your federal leader for the count so one final question. There’s been a lot of talk of expanding the Federation, both of your parties have committed to negotiations on this expansion but what are your personal takes?”

The Prime Minister started off with a grin. “Well absolutely yes, I think there are many countries that, whilst not European per se, are in fact very much European in character. As you gentlemen will know there are none more committed to the European project than I and indeed I think the injection of some Commonwealth states would be good both for the Federation and for Britain within it.”

Nodding, Lewis said “Stop the presses because me and the PM actually agree on something here. Although I would like to point out that Israel-Palestine is also up for inclusion and, as a close ally of the Federation and a free, multi-cultural democracy, we should absolutely be moving to integration.”

“Thank you both, now it's off to one of our plucky field reporters for their on the ground view.”

As some poor bastard in Norway shouted into a microphone with wind, rain and storm, Arthur was doing his damnedest to ignore the fighting behind him. The Confederals, who had seemingly abandoned their CPP friends, were now wriggling their way into the Blackshirt group, mingling and shouting alongside their newfound friends. It’s incredible just how fast the tides turned.

 

[Major Crimson]

That's a big swing. A Canadian-style (and size) swing. That is, if the poll can be trusted.

One thing I have to know - why "cabinet minister" as a title? Just seems an odd choice of name.

It is! That's what happens with a lot of discontent and a proportional(ish) system.

And Cabinet Minister is just the title for members of the actual cabinet, ie Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs and the rest of the cabinet. Most members of the Parliament are Council Ministers, which is a compromise name between MPs, Representatives and Councillors.

So what do people think, is it interesting is the writing any good? I know its early days but the more feedback the merrier!

 

[andry2806]

Ooohh fuck.

 

[Major Crimson]

​

The room was so quiet now, Mike and Hugh, who had found themselves on either side of the emerging brawl, were both dragged out into the street along with the rest of the writhing mess of green, black, blue and red. Anna had taken the result hard and politely disappeared to go and binge drink in peace leaving Arthur abandoned in the middle of an increasingly empty room. As he stared up at the telly, Charlie Brooker seemed to be sharing in his moment of anguish. “Interesting stuff, I’m hearing that the Polish results will be in shortly but before that I’ve got Catharine Rice, head of Ipsos-Mori, to tell us just how they cocked up the results so poorly. Well, Cathy? Just how did you miss the black tide?”

As the poor woman stuttered and blustered, searching desperately for some logical explanation and seemingly stuck in a loop on the point that “vote splitting and the provinces mean that…”. Exhaling deeply, Arthur found himself once again alone and went to the bar to order a scotch. About a third of the way through his quadruple serving of Laphroaig however, his right pocket lit up and started singing.

“♫Things, can only get betteeeer♫.” Taking the PDA out of his pocket and lifting it lazily to his ear, Arthur clicked the green button on the side.

“AJ here, what’s up?”

“Artie!” the panting voice came, accompanied by two pairs of hurried footsteps. “It’s Jim!” “And Simon!” came a distant shout. “Yeah and Si, we got delayed, had a few pints in the Cape and got distracted." a laugh came from the background and then: "Yeah, "distracted" by that fit girl from Univ you like!"
"Shut up Si. What’s going on, have we missed the exit poll?”

“Yep.” Arthur replied, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “You’re not going to believe it.”

“What did he say?” echoed simons distant voice. “He said we’re not going to believe it! So,” Jim said, “Good or bad?”

“Well, kind of both?” Arthur thought about it for a moment, so far he’d just been despairing but there was a lot of good news to be had. The Co-Ops had been campaigning hard but 300 had been their high target, having nearly 70 seats above that was far more than anyone had anticipated. “A nice chunk of good and then a landfill of bad.”

“Oh Christ,” the runners came to a stop and, panting, went silent for a second. “Good news first?”

“We’re on 368.” “What was that?” came the second voice on the other end of the PDA, “Artie says we’re on 368!” Cheers of joy and what Arthur guessed were hi-fives filled the airwaves and he held the device away from his ear to avoid any damage to his hearing.

“Alright! Fantastic! So, what’s the problem?”

“We’re not the largest party.”

“Oh.”

“Vigilant are.”

A pause, slightly longer than acceptable. “Jim?” Arthur asked.

“Oh.” Jim repeated. “Whats wrong?” “It’s uh, the Blackshirts.” The voices grew quieter as Jim cupped his hand over the speaker of his PDA “They’re the biggest party.”

“Bollocks!” Arthur could almost hear Jim shrug. “Well, we’re coming down George Street now. Be there in a moment.”

Sure enough, the woman from Ipsos-Mori was still floundering her way through Brooker’s grilling by the time that the pair arrived. They were both wearing dark purple “Vote Co-Op” T-shirts from the campaigning earlier but Jim had thrown a suit jacket over his. Both were dripping wet from the rain and still breathing heavily from their sprint across Oxford. Jim was the taller of the two, scraping 6’ 2” with a scruffy beard, messy hair and round glasses, people had joked about Arthur and his’ own similarity since they’d both ran for Secretary at the end of Michaelmas term (Jim had won but didn’t run again in Hillary, so Arthur took it). Simon was skinnier and slightly pale, with short cropped hair and an e-cigarette in one hand, a slight northern accent betraying his Yorkshire origins.

“Alone again AJ?” Arthur laughed despite himself. “I had a little cross-party thing going on but Mike and Hugh-“ “Hugh Lane?” Jim asked and Artie nodded his assent. “Christ I hate him.” “Everyone hates him.” Simon opined. “He’s not so bad. Not that it matters, Mike and Hugh got chucked out for brawling along with the rest of the Commies, Fascists and Cons.”

“I thought it looked a little empty.” Jim said.

“Yeah they’ve culled the nutters. Anyway, Anna was here too but she took the Poll pretty hard.” Arthur glanced about looking for her and, to his surprise, spotted her comforting some poor lad in an orange top who appeared to be bawling uncontrollably. “Ah. Poor Dems.”

“Christ.” Jim muttered under his breath and Arthur turned back to find him staring, fixated at the TV screen where the exit poll was still plastered across the bottom of the screen.

“Four hundred and two?”

“Nevermind that,” Simon cut in, “CPP on 50? They’ve never had less than 200 before.”

“That’s what you get for invading Turkey and deciding that you’d better help the psychopath dictator rather than the rebels.” Jim nodded in agreement. “It's that that fucked them, and the asylum issue, and the economy.”

“It's weird.” Said Arthur. “I’m amazed we didn’t see it coming.”

Back on the EBC, Brooker had finished savaging his guest, who rapidly scuttled out of sight. Turning to the camera, the presenter attempted a smile.“Well, tonight’s a good night for hippies and fascists it seems, thanks for the scoop Louis but we’re about to have our first results in. I believe tonight it’s the Polish Prime Minister announcing their results, now remember Poland has been assigned 50 Council Ministers in the next parliament so we’ve got fifty seats in play, 5% of the whole shebang.”

“He really is a weird choice to replace good ol’ Dave.” Simon said.

The camera cut to a large, marble wall in front of what the caption told them to be the Sejm, the Polish Parliament. Swarming around a central podium, at which stood the Polish PM, journalists and activists had gathered in anticipation. With the exit poll as earth shattering as it had been the camera operators and journos were both flying around at breakneck pace, shoving microphones towards anyone who could talk and taking about 4 million photos a minute. Clearing her throat and holding a large piece of paper out in front of her, the Prime Minister began.

“Za zgodą szefa policji, mogę to potwierdzić…” she started before a EBC dub kicked in and drowned her out.

“With permission from the Chief Counting Officer and with all the ballots cast, I can report that Poland’s votes are as follows:

European Democrats: 11,981

Independents and Unaffiliated: 19,413

Left-Ecologists: 21,656

Marxist Solidarity Front: 93,012

Co-Operative Party: 331,067

Christian People’s Party: 124,899

Confederal Party: 3,131,401

Vigilant Alliance: 5,404,201

50 Council Members will be distributed as follows:

1 to the Marxist Solidarity Front, 2 to the Cooperative Party, 1 to the Christian People’s Party, 17 to the Confederal Party and 30 to the Vigilant Alliance.”

The Warsaw broke into a cacophony of noise as Vigilant supporters cheered their victory. Poland was one of their heartlands, always had been but nevertheless, the VA had never won anything close to a majority here and that 27 out of 50 looked like a big win.

“Well, that is something.” Brooker chimed in. “Not something very good mind you, or at least not something very good for immigrants. If we look to the big stick in front of me – and for once I’m saying that to someone other than your mum – we can see the swingometer is showing a massive 30% swing from the Coalition towards the Vigilant which is quite a lot indeed. We can also see an 11% swing from the Democrats to the Cooperatives and Christ, if these pan out then the exit poll would be spot on. Big, big changes happening here tonight. That’s absolutely crushing for the Dems, whilst they’ve never done awfully well in Poland I don’t think they’ve done worse than the independents well, ever.”

“I can’t believe it.” Arthur muttered under his breath.

“Me neither,” Simon agreed, “but on the plus side, that’s the best we’ve ever done in Poland. Has there ever been a Polish Co-Op CM?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, small mercies I suppose. You think it’ll all keep up like this?”

Before Simon could answer, Jim slammed a pint in front of each of them.

“Chug this, now.” Glancing at each other the two other students blinked, shrugged and chugged back their ale.

“See, nothing like a bit of Gold to dull the pain. I wonder who they’ll have on to talk about this one.

As if in answer, Louis Theroux popped up on screen and shakily declared; “My next guest is a newly reelected Polish Council Minister and Leader of the Polish Vanguard in Parliament, welcome Mr Korwin-Mikke.”

Louis turned to a screen on his right where the beaming face of Janusk Korwin-Mikke stood imposingly in the middle of a hectic office, the Polish Flag and a banner featuring the rampant bull of the VA served as his backdrop.

“Hello Lewis,” he practically shouted, moustache twitching with excitement and thick Polish accent smotheringly the words. “I am so so glad to be talking with you.”

“I bet you are,” Louis responded with a forced smile. “So according to our exit poll its going to be a very good night for you indeed! It looks like in Poland alone you’ve already got nearly as many seats as you won last time.” Swapping the smile out for a frown, he continued;”Why do you think it is that voters would turn to what some call an extremist party? You yourself have been accused of sexism, homophobia and even racism at times.”

The Pole chuckled and rubbed his balding head. “Come now Lewis, come now! People are clearly done with the globalist, mainstream politicians and their cronies and who can blame them? We’ve been forced into an disaster war in Turkey, we have suffered a great much under silly, silly economic ideas and the message that just isn’t getting through to Zurich is that we have had enough! Europe means Europe, their silly plans of expansion to other places are making a lot of people very angry, we have more than enough problems already.”

“Yes,” Louis nodded, “You’ve talked about a lot of these problems before. If I may, I’ve got a list of them right here, do you mind if I ask you about some of them?”

“I would be much obliged!”

“So last year on the election of Chairman Nemtsov, you said – and I quote: ‘We had better invade the Baltic already, there’s no way a man like Nemtsov would fight back,”

“Well I, of course, didn’t actually-“

“I’m sorry Mr Korwin-Mikke, but I hadn’t finished. You then called Mr Nemtsov a slang, rather impolite word for a Jewish person and then said “Semites haven’t got the fire to fight like men”, now whats that all about? Almost a fifth of Poland’s population is Jewish, how do you think they feel knowing that they’ve got a man like you as their chief representative in Europe?”

“Bloody hell, did he really say that?” Simon asked and Arthur nodded, “I saw it live. Right in the Council chamber.”

Back on EBC, Korwin-Mikke was trying his damnedest to be both loyal to the principles of his party and certainly not a bigot. He wasn’t doing very well and his intermittent chuckles were becoming ever more frequent.

“Listen, Lewis!” The Pole was getting agitated now and his once boisterous moustache now drooped forebodingly, “The people of my country and of this continent have had quite enough of your-“

“I’m sorry Mr Korwin-Mikke but I’m going to have to cut you short as I’m being told we have the Hungarian Results coming in and we’ll go to that count now.”

This time, EBC had actually got the dub going on time. The Hungarian setting was a lot more sparse, some odd back room with only a few permitted state journalists and of course the EBC crew present. Some unimportant Hungarian Civil Servant was announcing the results.

“It is my great honour to announce the results of the Hungarian vote for our representatives are as follows. The total number of votes is five million, nine-hundred and sixty eight thousand and sixty one and the results are as follows: Independents and Unaffiliated parties, 3,871; European Democrats 20,145; Left-Ecologist Alliannce, 21,656; Marxist-Soldiarity Front, 89,653; Christian People’s Party, 156,432;”

Arthur frowned, “That’s barely any votes at all.”

“Cooperative Party, 931,067 and the winners of the largest numbers of Hungarian votes are the Vigilant Alliance with 4,706,292. The Council Ministers will be distributed as follows…”

Unlike the chaos from the exit poll, the general reaction to the announcement was stunned silence and a general sense of disbelief. Despite everything, the exit poll was right. Arthur was sure that the ‘Jobbik’ government of Hungary, themselves a key part of the VA, had been involved.

“No way anyone gets that high a percentage of the vote without cheating, not in a federal vote.” he said and Jim shrugged, “I don’t know, if they were going to do it anywhere it was here. Jobbik got a majority in their last national election and hell I think the VA got at least 50% last time.”

Numbers popped up on screen, showing off just how many seats each party received.

Vigilant: 32

CoOp: 6

Confederal: 1

Marxist-Solidarity: 1

Shaking his head, Simon slumped off his stool and, lolloping his way over to the bar, span at the last minute and pointed in an accusatory manner at both Artie and Jim. “Lads. Once Finland comes in,” he paused, allowing the suspense to build; “kebabs.”

 

[The Professor]

Anyone else hearing the results like the ESC?

 

[AvatarOfKhaine]

How "tankie" are the Co-op?

And what are the VA like outside of these former communist countries such as France and the UK etc?