TWO
Thursday, 7 May 2015
11:01pm
“...and while the identity of his successor looks to be anything but certain at the moment, we are privileged enough to be joined now by the incumbent President of the United Kingdom. Mr President, welcome.”
Paddy smiled.
“The privilege is mine, David. Election night will not be the same without you.”
“Well, I’ve not left yet. The electorate have decided to give me one last nail-biter for the road, it would appear.”
“I can’t disagree. Tonight will certainly be interesting.”
“It’s not often we hear your thoughts on electoral politics, Mr President,” said Dimbleby, whose mouth had never quite managed to deliver the title without a hint of a smirk, “except during your own campaigns, of course.”
“I do of course have the Basic Law to consider, David,” Ashdown nodded, “but I will be leaving office on Monday - I’m sure the British people will forgive me a few insights this evening.”
“And we’ll be asking exactly what those insights are in just a moment - we’re hearing that North East England is ready to declare.”
“Labour will probably walk this,” said Peter Kellner as the panel turned to look at the big screen behind them.
“They didn’t in 2003, and I would know,” remarked Ashdown with a grin.
“True,” nodded Kellner, “but that was then and this is now - I can’t see this going any way that doesn’t involve at least two of their electoral votes turning red.”
“Well, we’re about to find out,” said Dimbleby, holding up a hand, “here’s the returning officer now.”
“...that the number of votes cast for each Presidential candidate in the North East England region was as follows.
Campbell, Sir Menzies, Liberal Democrats: 261,524.
Legge, William, UK Independence Party: 313,703.
Portillo, Michael, Conservatives Now: 298,618.
Rowling, Joanne, Labour Party: 605,833.
Sturgeon, Nicola, New Deal: 15,301.
Tatchell, Peter, Red-Green Platform For Change: 71,317.
Vorderman, Carol, William V Rex: 18,351.
Windsor, Charles Philip, Green Party GB: 38,421.
I therefore declare that - of the three available electoral votes for North East England - two are hereby awarded to Joanne Rowling, the Labour Party candidate, and one to William Legge, the UK Independence Party candidate.”
There was much rejoicing from the packed hall.
“Well, that gives us our first result, and as you said, Peter, it’s not a surprise. But it does mean that Ms Rowling is now ahead in the popular vote and - at the moment - leading in the Electoral College. Emily, what does that do to our map?”
Maitlis grinned as the camera panned across to what had been disparagingly described on social media as ‘a giant non-brand iPad’.
“No surprises there indeed, David, but it does mean that the North East section of our map turns Labour red, and over on Jeremy’s wall, Ms Rowling gains two of those all-important stick figures - gender neutral, of course - who will be casting their votes in the electoral college on Monday morning. Mr Legge will be pleased, however, that he has one of his own bringing up the rear in the race to the top of the Arch.”
The graphic - flat and matte, as was the style at the moment - duly updated, and Maitlis handed back to Dimbleby.
“Thank you, Emily,” David said with a glance off to the left, “Peter: the expected result?”
“Almost to a T, David,” Kellner said with a violent nod, “but I say ‘almost’ because of the unexpectedly low New Deal vote. The nationalist/devolutionist alliance had campaigned relatively hard in this region, and polls did suggest there was greater support for north east devolution than this result indicates.”
“Disappointment in Sturgeon HQ, then?”
“Quite, but I suspect they shall be smiling when we hear from Scotland.”
“For all the good it will do them,” said Dimbleby darkly, perhaps not relishing the reminder they would probably not get the Scotland result until 6am at the earliest, “Peter, thank you. Mr President, thank
you for waiting.”
“I love the thrill of a result, David, I’d’ve asked you to hush and let me watch it anyway.”
“I’m sure. How confident are you in your party’s man tonight?”
“I think it goes without saying that Ming is a great friend and the man I always had in mind as a successor. The party’s slogan: ‘Trusted at Home, Respected Abroad’ says it all.”
“But have the people agreed with you today?”
“We shall have to wait and see.”
Dimbleby clearly knew that that meant. With a flourish of notes, he changed the subject.
“You came under fire at the end of last year for suggesting a number of constitutional amendments to the Presidency, specifically with regard to term lengths. Some of them have already been passed by Parliament. Are you sure that, regardless of who is actually in Admiralty Arch, we are not still running the risk of becoming a ‘Paddyocracy’?”
The President laughed.
“David, I announced I would not seek another term in 2013. Without wishing to sound arrogant, I do believe I have the necessary experience to make an informed statement on how long we ought to expect our Presidents to serve, and while I’ve enjoyed my re-election campaigns immensely - as have you and your colleagues in the media - I don’t think they’re a dignified way for a sitting President to spend their time every four years. And the late Roy Jenkins agreed with me.”
“You’re referring to the recommendations of the Jenkins Commission, which were, how shall we say, ‘modified’ by Mr Blair’s government?”
“That is one word for it.”
David smirked. “You have also recently gone on-record repeating a statement you first made in 2006, questioning why we were still the UK.”
“Yes, David, this is something I feel strong about and look forward to discussing more freely when I become a member of the public. As well as typical British institutional inertia, the retention of the name ‘United Kingdom’ was a short-term compromise cobbled together during the Kent Regency out of a misplaced sense of duty to the last vestiges of the old order.”
“Including Prince Michael himself?”
Paddy’s tone changed. “I have always had the utmost respect for the Prince, particularly once he took the courageous decision to accept the responsibility offered him by Parliament. Considering the way the rest of his family behaved, I think he has earned our nation’s gratitude.”
“But didn’t you yourself say at the time that you couldn’t understand why the Speaker was not simply given the reserve powers technically belonging to the monarch? Just while Lord Jenkins was making his deliberations?”
Ashdown shook his head. “David, I’ve denied this countless times, including to you, I am certain. That quote was an idle remark, taken out of context, I wasn’t suggesting “Queen Betty”, as the tabloids put it, and the role as a figurehead on the world stage is one that was skillfully and properly carried out by the Prince in difficult times. I can’t see any Speaker of the House of Commons being able find the time to do that! Now, if we could return to the subject of the farce surrounding ‘the United Kingdom’...”
Dimbleby relented. “But of course, Mr President. What name would you favour?”
“No, no, David,” said Paddy, teeing up a line the British public had grown to know and love in recent years, “I’m not going to fall into that particular elephant trap. I would favour whatever the people of this country decide, and I would like to see a number of options being considered at a constitutional convention. I don’t think a referendum would be out of the question to determine the outcome - we would not just be choosing a name, but a new structure: ideally a federal one.”
“The Federation of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.”
“That is certainly one of the suggestions that is being mooted at the present, yes.”
Dimbleby looked at his screen.
“...I, no, my apologies, Mr President - I thought that we were getting news from Yorkshire. Um, let’s check in with James Naughtie.”
The screen behind the panel changed to the Excel Centre, which appeared to be somewhat busier that it had been an hour ago.
“James?”
“Thank you, David,” Naughtie said over the echoing noise of the hall, “you may have just heard a slight noise behind me from the Labour and UKIP delegation as the North East results were formally confirmed by the National Returning Officer. Glum faces from basically everyone else, I think the Liberal Democrats in particular will be sad to have come behind both UKIP and Mr Portillo.”
Dimbleby tried to avoid catching Ashdown’s eye as he replied.
“And do you think that this is a sign of how the result is going to turn out nationally, James?”
“I couldn’t say, to be honest, David,” Naughtie continued, “the North-East is a naturally Labour-leaning region at the best of times, but, certainly, given the comparative unpopularity of Mr Purnell’s government nationally, I really couldn’t say how this could bring down Ms Rowling in regions less favourable to the party. I think we’ll have to wait for the House of Lords elections before we can garner how Labour are doing more generally.”
“Thank you, James,” Dimbleby said as the screen faded back to the ‘Election 2015’ logo, “and I think that Emily will be showing us the new composition of the North East cohort of Lord Senators fairly shortly.”
Smiling, Dimbleby turned back to face Ashdown.
“Mr President, thank you for your patience. As we were saying, and I’m sure we can discuss Ming Campbell’s somewhat underwhelming performance later, but - to confirm - you will be lobbying for a constitutional convention?”
Ashdown tilted his head somewhat. “Well, I would refute your statement regarding Ming Campbell, but that is indeed a statement for another time. With regard to the Constitutional Convention though, as a private citizen, I absolutely would support one.”
“And as for replacing the Electoral College with a conventional popular vote?”
The President frowned slightly.
“Well,” he replied, “and I’ve always said this, I do feel that the Electoral College is an unhelpful anachronism that dilutes the power of the individual.”
“But surely,” Dimbleby countered,”a popular vote would simply mean that ‘London elects the President’, as Labour often put it?”
Paddy shook his head. “There is nothing to suggest that the electoral system itself doesn’t need to be reconsidered as well, but I look forward to setting out my response to that particular argument once I leave office. I think I have just about pushed to breaking point the boundaries of what a sitting President can say, don’t you?”
Dimbleby gave a respectful nod.
“Mr President, thank you for joining us. Before you go, may I ask you to describe what you would consider to be your fondest memory of your twelve years in office?”
Ashdown contemplated for a moment.
“Curiously enough, it isn’t a matter that I have given much thought to,” he said, “I get to serve our country every day of the year, which is always a wonderful honour. The people I’ve met over the years, every handshake and every ribbon-cutting - every single one has taught me something else about the vibrant and diverse patchwork that makes up this great country. If pushed, I’d probably have to single out the reciprocal state visits to Ireland, which I think really did normalise relations between our two countries. Mo did all the groundwork for that, obviously, and it was really thanks to her that they were able to go ahead so successfully.”
There was another pause.
“However,” Ashdown continued, “I think that the best moment really has to have been the election in 2003. Not so much because of what it meant to me - as I’ve said before, David, I never even considered running for my own sake - but what it meant to the country. For the first time in our island’s history, we had a genuine ability to stay the hand of a Prime Minister, and I think it was that, more than the referendum back in ‘99, that really marked our transition to genuine democracy. It was magnificent feeling, I was honoured to be part of it.”
“Mr President, thank you very much for your time.”
“David, thank
you for having me. It’s been an honour to be part of your last broadcast.”
Both men shook hands - which, on balance, just looked a bit weird - and the camera cut to Emily Maitlis gesticulating at her giant phablet while, presumably, the President of the United Kingdom took off his lapel mic and was politely ushered out of the studio.
“Andrew Neil has got a new guest on his sofa, I see. Andrew, who have you got for us?”
“I’ve got a bag of tricks up my sleeve this evening, David, you know that,” chortled Neil with a wink at the camera.
“I don’t doubt that,” Dimbleby’s voice murmured, off-screen.
“I’m joined now by Suzanne Evans, leader of the William V Rex party -”
Evans leant forward, firmly raising her hand.
“Andrew, I’m afraid I must stop you there. WVR is not a party.”
“My apologies!” said Neil, throwing his hands up in mock embarrassment, “what are you, then?”
“WVR is a mass movement of people who feel the abolition of the British monarchy was done with neither the public’s consent, nor any legal right.”
Neil cut in, quickly. “Something that no constitutional scholar or Supreme Court judge believes.”
“The views of the establishment are irrelevant. We -”
“Very populist rhetoric, well done, but doesn’t that rather ignore the 74% endorsement the Presidency received in the referendum?”
“The referendum was a totally false choice, arguably rigged, offering the public a new ‘democratic system’ or a confusing status quo. There was no option to place a Windsor back to the throne, because obviously, that would have won!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, frankly.”
Evans ignored him. “We the people, operating through the electoral banner of WVR, are going to put that injustice right. When a WVR candidate assumes the Presidency - and we are really confident in Carol tonight - their first and only task in office will be the invitation of Prince William to the throne of the United Kingdom.”
“Does the constitution actually allow that?”
“In the face of a WVR landslide at the so-called ‘presidential polls’, we do not believe the establishment academics who fetishise our constitution would be able to object to its amendment in this instance.”
“A lot of people must ask you this, why not Wills’ dad?”
With a practiced smile, Evans assumed a stateswoman-like pose.
“The former Prince of Wales is, for many of our supporters, tainted by his silence during the Diana Crisis. This places him unacceptably close to the unprecedented display of heartlessness that led to the present constitutional situation. Further, he has chosen to enter electoral politics, and moreover has voluntarily relinquished all his claims to the throne.”
“And he’s nowhere near as handsome as his son.”
Evans shook her head and gave a patronising smile.
“As always, Andrew, you and the media are trying to paint us as a bunch of fairy-talers -”
“Not at all!” grinned Neil.
“- a bunch of ‘bored housewives’, a terrifyingly sexist characterisation that we abjectly reject. We are proud to be a movement driven by a majority of empowered and active women, and -”
“If I could stop you mid-speech, please,” Neil said testily, “I haven’t actually said any of those things.”
“Well, no, but you were implying them, Andrew. I won’t stand for that.” Evans broke into a sweet smile.
“Evidently. Well, the first results are coming in, and Ms Vorderman doesn’t look likely to become President -”
“We are hugely optimistic for her. Our figures suggest we’ll do very well in South East and South West England, along with enough of London to give us a fighting chance.”
“I’m no mathematician, but the electoral votes you’d get from such a performance aren’t going to put your woman in Admiralty Arch.”
“We shall have to see,” said Evans, becoming tight-lipped.
“We shall indeed. Ms Evans, forgive me, but I must ask - has the artist formerly known as Prince William ever given you his support? Why not run him as a candidate?”
Evans shook her head and laughed.
“Once again, the tired pedantries of the establishment come to the fore. Time and again, in every election we have contested - as far back as 2007 - we have always explained that Prince William has
not given us his endorsement,
and this is entirely right and proper. The Prince must be above politics, just as he will be when he is King. For him to stand as a candidate or give us his public support would be -”
“Public support?”
“Yes, public.”
Neil pounced.
“So you’re saying he’s given you his private support.”
“That’s - no, that’s not what I’ve said. I have said that he has not - he hasn’t -”
Neil was insistent now.
“Has Mr William Wales ever given you or any member of your party an indication of his support for your cause?”
Evans hardened, recovering somewhat.
“I am not at liberty to say.”
“I see. Royal Oaths, and all that, no doubt. Back to you, David.”
As Evans glowered, Dimbleby reappeared as the shot changed.
“We expect to hear from Yorkshire and the Humber in the next few minutes, but with the President now on his way back to Admiralty Arch, it’s time to ask Nick Robinson for some further reflection on our outgoing President.”
“Thanks, David. Where to begin with Paddy Ashdown? Well, it’s easy to think that he was always destined to become President, from the moment the Diana Crisis reached breaking point. But it wasn’t always so clear-cut. He was still Lib Dem leader at the time, of course, and therefore theoretically a candidate for PM.”
“A fact which did not stop Tony Blair seeking his counsel.”
“Indeed,” said Robinson, “during those extraordinary cabinet office meetings between Blair, Ashdown and William Hague - which the press nicknamed ‘Queen COBRA’ - Ashdown is believed to have been the first to raise the consequences of the Queen remaining intransigent on the subject of a state funeral, de facto or de jure.”
Dimbleby nodded again, his eyes glazing over slightly. Probably another flashback to that long autumn. Robinson continued as images of a younger Ashdown appeared behind him.
“During the Kent Regency, he made that oft-repeated remark you asked him about a few minutes ago, but it’s believed he and the Prince got on handsomely in person, and he famously led plaudits to the Prince when he made his commitment to stand aside regardless of the outcome of the Presidential Referendum. But Ashdown of course was not the Lib Dem candidate in 1999 - after Roy Jenkins ruled himself out, it was Shirley Williams who eventually lost to Mo Mowlam in the first Presidential election.”
“A memorable night, to say the least.”
“Yes - I was a whippersnapper at News 24 at the time, I remember our first on-air discussion, in fact.”
“So do I,” David visibly lied.
“But yes,” said Nick, returning to the matter at hand, “while he may not have been inevitably destined for the Presidency - as late as January 2003 itself, he had to be wooed in person by Charles Kennedy. Remember that famous trip to Bosnia?”
Dimbleby nodded, but both men avoided mentioning the stories surrounding the in-flight drinks trolley.
“But once he was in office, he looked like he was in the part he’d been born to play. They don’t come much more presidential than Paddy Ashdown - special forces veteran, constitutional reformer, a politician consistently more popular than his party -”
David interjected. “Many Liberal Democrats remain disappointed that his election did not carry them to the front of the polls, and the fact they are yet to even form the official opposition has been a public frustration at times.”
“Yes, and the President has had to distance himself from that more than once, which probably didn’t help their cause. But, as the saying goes, ‘Paddy is Paddy’ - he’s always been seen as a distinct entity to his party, much more so since he became President.”
“In 2003.”
“Indeed. And of course, within weeks of his assumption of the Presidency, we saw a change of Prime Minister, and in 2005 he had to set the precedent of exactly how a President should behave in the event of a minority government being formed. It was all written down in the Basic Law, of course, but quite how to enact those clauses was new territory for someone with a popular mandate of their own.”
“I understand that there was a flurry of conversations between Admiralty Arch and the Schloss Bellevue the day after the election.”
“That’s right, there was. And it certainly did pave the way, and I’m sure that the President will bear this out in his memoirs, for the sort of active role in the
appointment of the Prime Minister that came around just prior to the appointment of Michael Howard’s first govern...”
Dimbleby suddenly raised a hand.
“Nick, we shall have to come back to you, as I think that we can, finally, go to the declaration for Yorkshire and the Humber...”