Fanfic: (Don't) Regret the Mistakes Part Two
Gwen met Arthur at his office at 6:30pm, so that they could travel together to Uther's home in Kensington. Arthur was grateful to have her warm, steadying presence by his side. Arthur could not imagine his life without her, didn't want to. They settled into the back of their car, Arthur closing his eyes, while Gwen rubbed soothing circles on his hand and wrist.
They arrived at Avalon Hall just before 7:00pm. The butler ushered them into the drawing room, where Morgana and Leon were already seated, talking quietly, drinks in hand. Arthur and Gwen were soon sipping on mineral water, before Vivian arrived, 7:00pm on the dot.
Uther graced them all with his almost-smile. "I'd like to welcome you all to Avalon Hall this evening, I'm most pleased that we can come together to discuss Arthur's campaign. The next few weeks will perhaps be some of the most difficult and perhaps even wearying of your lives. The days will be long, you may sometimes feel impossibly long, but I remind you all that it is only a few weeks, that all of you are young and so should have stamina and fortitude, and also, think of the prize that awaits the victor."
"A Member of Parliament, in the House of Commons, wields the most potent power in the entire country, the ability to create and repeal laws, to consider and decide on policies for the running of Great Britain, the effects of which may be felt for years and decades to come. This is no small privilege that my son, Arthur Pendragon, has been granted to campaign for this seat, and so we must waste no opportunity, and not indulge any mistakes, as even the smallest mistake can result in disaster in a time such as this. Great Britain is poised on the edge of a precipice, and its people are responsible to deciding who they want to shape the future of us all."
Uther paused, and Arthur thought perhaps Uther had finished his opening address, but alas...
"We cannot expect the people of this great country to know which direction they ought to go. We must convince one and all of the need to reinstate a Conservative majority in Parliament, to end the rampant mismanagement of the Labour Party. Now I know that already a leaflet drop has been sent out, but I believe that tonight is the real beginning of our campaign, that we're all in this moment together."
For another ten minutes, as Uther droned on, Arthur observed his staff. Morgana's face was frozen into a smile which was looked as genuine as a plastic Barbie's, Leon was fiddling with a throw pillow and had unravelled a tassel, Gwen was trying not to huff with boredom, and Vivian was glaring at Uther, because she desperately wanted a smoke.
Eventually, Uther invited them all into the dining room at quarter to eight, Gwen tucking her arm around Arthur, as much to lean on him as to show affection.
Arthur whispered to her, "Don't let on to Uther that you're bored, or I'll never hear the end of it."
Gwen stiffened at that, aware that Uther did not think her at all a suitable candidate for the role of future MP's wife. It made her bristle, if she was honest with herself, as long as she was supportive of Arthur, why did Uther have to be so disparaging of her. She often thought he had more of an issue with her skin tone, than anything else, not that she would ever call him on it, for fear of the nasty repercussions for Arthur.
Vivian had ducked out to the manicured courtyard garden which adjoined the dining room, hastily smoking her Dunhill in less than a minute before she came back in, feigning as if she'd been in the dining room all along. Uther boomed out, "Vivian, my dear, please don't feel that you can't smoke, none of us here are the slightest bit worried by that, but you will need to hear all the discussions and planning tonight."
Morgana bit down a groan, Leon chuckled, because Uther clearly had no idea that inviting Vivian to smoke as it pleased her was an invitation to turn the atmosphere into choking smog. Vivian pulled out the Dunhill packet, silver engraved lighter, and the butler provided an ashtray. It was going to be a long night.
"Now, I would like to hear first about how you intend to promote Arthur as the finest candidate for the Brentford and Isleworth seat."
Vivian spoke up first, "Well, on the whole, I think we're emphasizing that Arthur will have a lot of energy and drive to deliver positive outcomes to the constituency, because the Labor and Liberal Democrats will be using the negative tactic, that Arthur is too young and inexperienced to take on this job."
She continued, "The CCHQ will be mostly commenting on the failures of Labour, from taking billions of pounds from pension funds, doubling the national debt, failure to act decisively to end the British Airways dispute because the Labour Party is bankrolled by the Unions, just basically reminding people of the failures, because otherwise apathy and loss of collective memory might mean these things are forgotten in the polling booth. The message that is going to be pushed is to voters is we must not reward failure, and let them do it all over again."
Morgana interrupted, "Okay, but that tells us absolutely nothing about Arthur's campaign. I think we need to have as many photographs as possible, Arthur talking to school kids, shopkeepers, housewives, business people, teenagers, just have him as someone able to relate to everyone, able to understand their concerns and willing to throw everything at an issue until there's a result. He's got no political track record, so lots of background, his days as an advisor, and being able to talk a lot of politicians onto his causes already. Also, I think we should promote his gap year, even though that was a few years ago now, but you spent it doing some humanitarian, voluntary work, isn't that right?"
"Yes, I spent six months of that year in Kenya, mostly teaching English in the local school but also digging out wells, for fresh water, and helping with education efforts for more effective crop sowing and harvesting. It was a great year, that."
Arthur smiled at the memory of that year, mainly because it had been Uther's idea, to use just in this exact context, but that would never change the joy that people had felt at his selfless help, and the joy that Arthur had felt in having no expectations on him beyond doing what he was asked to do, to follow orders. Sometimes having people constantly look to you for the answers, leadership, guidance, was wearing. He could never admit that to Uther though, it would be tantamount to admitting he did not have the stomach or stamina for a political career.
"I think both Morgana and Vivian are fully aware of the elements we need for a successful campaign, making voters aware of my particular strengths and abilities, but ultimately we must convince voters that change is imperative, that the Labour Party cannot be trusted with Great Britain's future, that these mistakes must not be allowed to continue."
Uther interrupted, "Well, clearly Vivian and Morgana are directing their focus at different angles of the campaign, and as long as the pieces of the puzzle fit, then we can be assured of success."
Vivian smiled at Uther, portraying sincere acknowledgment of his wisdom, even if the thought of being told she could fit together with that vapid, vague excuse for a Campaign Manager made her want to tell Uther he would not know a stupid whore if she put herself in a bus poster. Maybe Morgana could have some pretty pictures of herself made up while she was busy photoshopping Arthur's latest, Vivian seethed, vote Blond and Pretty for the future. Yeah, she and Morgana were so in sync.
The dinner itself was finally being served, an entree of delicate Thai fish cakes and spring rolls, with a spicy dipping sauce was supposed to be eaten daintily, however regardless of the grandiosity of the dining room, everyone was so famished and over it by that point, that the entree course was finished in less than ten minutes.
Arthur leaned back, accepting a second glass of red, feeling that everything useful that could be achieved this evening had been done, and that the sooner dinner was complete, the sooner they could all go home to catch up on rest.
Over dinner and desert, it was agreed that a professional photographer would be engaged the next day, to trail Arthur at his appearances for the next two days, to be worked into the next constituency letter. In the end, even Vivian had to agree that it was necessary to communicate to the voters not just what Arthur would do as a Conservative MP, but his own personal qualities.
Arthur sighed, frustrated that two brilliant women seemed determined to be at loggerheads, when he genuinely needed the contribution of both to make this a successful campaign.
Arthur was startled out of these thoughts, Gwen rubbing at his back, apparently all too aware of the tension that was manifesting first in Arthur's thoughts and consequently in his body. He smiled ruefully, it was like being held in a class where the teacher didn't want to acknowledge that every single student had lost their focus and was staring out the window.
When the dinner finally ended, everyone peeled themselves out of their chairs and headed for their cars.
It was past 11pm, but tomorrow would start back at 7:45am, to allow additional time for Arthur to be made up for his headshot photographs.
Vivian met Arthur the next morning, in his office, to let him know the stylist and photographer would be arriving at the office at 9:00am. They decided to have some initial photographs taken in Arthur's office, with the background of binders full of legislation, parliamentary reports, enquiry papers and all the other reams of information and opinion which the ordinary Member of Parliament would be expected to be conversant with.
Arthur was dressed in his navy wool suit, blue and white pinstriped shirt and a red and silver striped tie. He read through some press releases for the day, to realize that there are some issues which have been dredged up by the Labour Candidate, leaflets delivered throughout Brentford and Isleworth claiming that bus passes for elderly pensioners would no longer be funded if the Conservative Party claimed government. It was exactly the kind of fear of the unknown, of removing something which while it may not have seemed important to everyone, would be worrying for the vulnerable people who may lose a benefit. Such a benefit was for some the difference between the pleasure of paying a utility account, or paying said account and actually eating. These benefits which to the well-off seem paltry and small, but can sway a fearful voter to opt for what they know they currently have, as opposed to taking a risk on a change of government and getting, who knows?
Arthur knew he would have to work hard to combat such misconceptions and blatant misrepresentations. The Conservative Party had plans to reform the Welfare System, of that there was no doubt. In particular, the unemployed who refused paid employment offers would not be able to rely on the largess of the public purse, but would have a rude awakening of having benefits reduced or cut completely.
Arthur took a closer look at the Labour Party candidate's constituency flyer. Will Logan was a rough around the edges, straight-speaking candidate, who dripped venom against all the ideals and agendas of the Conservative Party, as being manifestly wrong-headed. His picture showed him cross-armed, the background a blurry representation of one of the local high streets, respectably attired in suit and tie, but still looking young and brash, ready to swing a riposte like a fist.
This was going to be a tough campaign. For all that Will Logan might seem tough and laddish, he was well liked by many of the locals, who found his belligerent style convincing and passionate. Arthur was naturally more poised and considered in how he spoke, and so in any debate, would have to be on his guard against appearing aloof.
Will's campaign starter was already homing in on the fears of the populace, that to vote in the Conservative candidate would mean an imminent loss of an important benefit. Arthur was already on the back foot.
The photographer and his assistant arrived, closely followed by the stylist. Arthur felt ridiculous having his hair fluffed up, and powder delicately swished with a large kabuki brush which made his nose feel ticklish. He knew it was important he present a professional, polished image, but really thought foundation was going a bit overboard. However, he smiled gamely at the stylist, who Morgana had personally selected, and kept these thoughts to himself.
The photographer's assistant set up several light-diffusing panels, and Arthur spent about forty-five minutes being verbally instructed in the art of appearing natural. Sometimes he was standing, sometimes sitting behind his desk, eventually the photographer had him leaning against his desk, posing like he was a catalogue model.
Morgana and Vivian were reviewing the photographs on the photographer's laptop, and oohed and ahed over the photos, for once agreeing on something, that the ones of Arthur leaning against the desk were the best.
"Hah, Arthur the hottie," Vivian teased mercilessly, "You'll have all the women in the constituency voting for you, based on these photos."
Morgana gave Arthur a cheeky eyebrow wiggle, "Maybe you should loosen the tie a bit Arthur, give the ladies a bit of what they want..."
Arthur just shook his head at the pair of them, they finally agree on something, and it's this, believing shameless objectification of his looks would win him the voters confidence. He knew they were only goading him, and he had to smile that finally, they could share a bit of cheeky banter with each other.
The initial part of the photography session completed, the photographer and assistant took a break, as they would be trailing Arthur and Morgana all day. Leon came in to advise Arthur about his campaign visits for the day.
Arthur knew he had to get straight on this bus pass issue before fiction became fact in people's minds.
"Vivian, I'm going to need you to draft a pamphlet advising our constituency that funding for bus passes for pensioners will not be removed if the Conservatives win. It needs to be short, sharp, a rebuttal of Will Logan's scuttlebutt, and we need to have it delivered tomorrow, so we need a draft by 11:30."
Morgana shook her head, "We should wait until the next Constituency letter, and reassure everyone that the Conservatives manifesto states specifically that the Winter Fuel Payment, free bus passes, pension credit and free TV Licenses will be protected for pensioners. Anything else will look scattershot, reactive."
Arthur disagreed, "It's not that I don't think that's exactly what we need to do in our next letter, but we need this pamphlet out asap. We need to emphasize that the Conservatives will protect the needs of pensioners, not take to them with a scalpel. We'll take a cut to MP's salaries to reduce the deficit."
Vivian nodded at Arthur, agreeing with his instinct to nip this issue in the bud. She left for her workstation without further comment, as she had only just over an hour to get it done.
Arthur and Morgana were doing their best happy banter chit-chat with the organizers of a local charity, cleaning and packing second hand books which would then be on-sold, the proceeds given to charities which had initiatives to assist the poor and the protection of the environment.
Arthur was chatting with a local mother who volunteered, and they had just been discussing their favorite meals to cook, as they were cleaning and packing recipe books, when the photographer asks her in a strained, trying so hard to be polite voice, if she could move aside so that he could get a better angle for his photos of Arthur.
Arthur looked kindly at the woman, Mel, and asked teasingly, "Fancy being in my next campaign letter? You'll be famous!"
Mel giggled, and Arthur looked at the photographer over her head, indicating with a toss of his head to take the photo with him and in it.
Morgana whispered to the photographer, and he quickly changed his tone, changing his angle so that Arthur and Mel would both be in the shot.
"Yeah, lovely, just keep on chatting to each other, like you were before."
They continued on, as a little group, to the Isleworth Library, to visit during some of its community activities. There was going to be a children's story time and craft session, teenagers were encouraged to come to a session on graphic novels, while later in the afternoon, there was a romance writer who was going to share her methods of writing a best-seller.
After watching a group of small children wriggle, squirm, cry and occasionally pay attention to the story-time, Arthur was surrounded by yet more young mothers, and offspring, and this time, the photographer took more photos than a paparazzo, ensuring there would be lots of good photos for the campaign. One of the mothers though, asked him about the bus passes and other pension benefits, if it's true they will be cut, as she holds onto a toddler who has run for the front door five times already. Arthur assured her this was not going to happen, that all benefits for pensioners would remain in place.
He held her energetic son for a few minutes, while she continued to quiz him, and after answering her questions while trying not to let kicking, flailing toddler go and run off, Arthur suddenly figured that being a candidate for a constituency seat was perhaps the second most tiring occupation he could be engaged in.
When they finally got back to his office, the pamplet had been drafted and approved by CCHQ, and could be delivered in the round of mail the next morning. Now, Morgana and Vivian would need to get cracking with the next constituency letter, ensuring that a slew of policy from the Conservative Manifesto was distilled into easy to digest snippets, which would engage the voters, while at the same time not over-simplifying policies and risk being accused of mis-leading the public.
"Arthur, while you were out, we received an email from CCHQ, Will Logan wants to hold a debate against you, at the Isleworth Town Hall," Vivian said, bringing the email up on her screen, "Leon, when can we schedule it in?"
"Hang on," interrupted Arthur, "Is this actually good for my campaign? I know that David Cameron is going to debate against Nick Clegg and Gordon Brown, and that is going to be in a lot of people's minds, do we really want a debate that compared to a televised national debate, is it going to come across as parochial?"
"Well, CCHQ seem to think it's worth doing," says Vivian.
Morgana nods her head, "I actually think it's going to be great for you, Arthur, allowing local voters see you in person, not just smiling for the camera, and volunteering for charities, but actually showing them all what you're made of, that you're going to stand up for them in Westminster, and not just make up the numbers on the benches."
"That's right Arthur, this is your opportunity to go toe-to-toe with Will, and gain the voter's confidence in you, when you convince them that the Conservative Party is not just good for the nation, but great for them, with their concerns. You have to take Will on directly about all these pamphlets as well, it's all well and good for us to put out a flyer, but you have to skewer him on this issue, like a rhino through a wild boar."
"Fuck, Vivian, are we talking about a political debate, or some kinky sex act," laughed Arthur.
Vivian just quirked a filthy grin at Arthur, "Stop getting distracted, Pendragon. You need to nail him. You know it! Rhetorically I mean."
Morgana by now had lost it, and Leon was turned away, chuckling, trying desperately not to let on that he'd been listening to Vivian's tirade. It was not at all convincing, seeing as Vivian had a carrying voice, and they were all in the office together.
"Well, Arthur, should I schedule it in with Will Logan's assistant?" Leon asked.
Arthur looked heavenward, and shrugged in resigned acceptance, "If Vivian and Morgana are going to keep ganging up on me and agreeing about things, then clearly I must acquiesce. Even if I think the idea is a total wank," Arthur added, defiantly.
"Oh, shut up! It's going to be in the town hall. There will be proper lecterns, and I'll personally see to it that we have Conservative Party bunting on every available surface." Vivian had found her pet project for the week.
The Isleworth Town Hall had been strewn with posters and bunting from both the Conservative and the Labour parties, from every possible angle, every possible viewpoint in the entire auditorium, there was a picture of Will Logan or Arthur Pendragon visible. Morgana and Leon had been at the Hall since the moment it opened in the morning, jostling with Will Logan's staff to get posters up in the most prominent locations, where the majority of the sitting audience would see them.
Leon and Morgana had to chuckle to themselves afterwards, at having done the dirty work that Vivian was suddenly unavailable to do, being much more urgently required to assist Arthur with reviewing the topics which would be debated that night. In the end it had been Morgana who had made the telephone calls arranging for posters to be printed, and she and Leon had driven to the printers to collect them, along with bunting and other paraphernalia which so subtly reinforced exactly who to vote for.
Arthur had been holed up with Vivian all day, and had been avoiding a number of telephone calls and messages from Uther. His rather limp excuse was going to be Leon's absence from the office, which was obviously porky pies, but there you go. He was doing his best to reign his nervousness in, he did not need Uther second guessing every single argument he was going to present tonight.
Arthur knew Uther would be expecting to talk to him immediately before the debate. It was unlikely he would be able to avoid him, unless he performed a stage dive over Uther towards the lectern, which Arthur thought, might impress some of the younger voters, but probably would seem crazy to everyone else. He felt confident, he knew his stuff, and he was ready for Will Logan. Uther's words, helpful or no, would not derail his confidence.
Meanwhile, Gwen had arrived at his office, looking demure and pretty in a green tailored shirt and herringbone skirt, her hair and make-up immaculate but thoroughly unremarkable, clean, presentable and respectable. A potential MP's wife had to complete the picture of confidence and stability, wear an impermeable armor of respectability and reliability. Arthur gathered her into an quick, affectionate embrace, grateful for her understated but genuine support.
Arriving at the Isleworth Town Hall, Arthur and Gwen were ushered in by Morgana, Leon and George, Uther and Vivian were already inside.
Gwen gave Arthur an encouraging squeeze before she made her way down to the front. Uther looked back and his steel gaze locked with Arthur's for a long moment, before he quickly strode towards Arthur. Arthur was not sure what was more intimidating, a room full of locals chattering, most of them disillusioned with all politicians in the aftermath of the expenses scandal, and curious as to why they should vote for any candidate at all, or Uther, bearing down and ready to cut Arthur to the quick if he deemed his performance a failure.
Uther spoke in a low mutter, that could only be heard by Arthur, "It's unforgivable that you did not respond to my communications today. I cannot believe you would not seek my advice before the most important night of your political career to date. I could have helped you, given you the benefit of my years of experience in public life and Westminster, yet you continue to treat me as an annoying irrelevance. I hope you're happy with your own preparations for this evening, because if you don't rise to the occasion, you do so with the knowledge that you spurned the advice and tactics I could have proposed to you today. That's all I'm going to say on the matter."
"Father, I appreciate all your help on this campaign, I spent today reviewing the issues with Vivian, and I think we've got everything well in hand."
Uther did not respond beyond a glare of reproach, before he turned away and went back to his own seat. Arthur felt a churn inside his gut, as much as he wanted to ignore Uther's dressing down, it still affected him emotionally to the point of making him feel slightly nauseous. Morgana came up to his side, and gave him a friendly squeeze, and suddenly, he and Will Logan were about to be announced by the debate chair, and in a what felt like a slightly unreal, dreamlike haze, Arthur found himself walking towards the stage as he was announced, shaking hands with the debate chair, and then with Will Logan as he was announced.
Arthur quickly sized Will up. His smart suit was well tailored, neat and respectable, and yet still somehow, Will Logan had street credibility. Whether that would translate to locals voting for him on election day was yet to be seen.
The chair formally introduced both candidates, before setting some ground rules for the debate. The chair would introduce each topic of debate, Will and Arthur would each have three minutes on how that particular issue would be handled by them or their party, before they would be able to question each other's points for a further five minutes, before the chair would require the next topic to be discussed.
The first topic up for discussion was the economy. They each had their three allotted minutes on the topic, before it came to questioning each other.
Will got out of the starting blocks that split-second faster, with "Okay, Arthur, you've shown that the Conservatives are going to take a big sharp razor to essential services and the civil service in the UK, that it's all going to be about cuts, and not looking at the broader picture of, yes, we need to get the budget deficit down, we need to get back to surplus, but not in this simplistic way that the Conservatives propose, that's just going to send the whole economy spiraling into recession."
"Well, Will, no, what we're proposing to do will do no such thing, we're going to prioritize spending cuts to bring back a semblance of balance and reality to the national budget, after more than a decade of Labour's profligacy. In lean times, if you don't cut back on expenses, you're living in fantasy land. We're seeing how countries around the world who will not wake up to reality are paying the price, we're all paying the price with them. It's about some short term pain, in the form of cuts, none of which will be to the most fundamental of concerns, Health and Foreign Aid, but these cuts must be implemented now, before the deficit becomes a crippling liability."
"That's the point though, if you pull the rug out from under the economy, by slashing willy-nilly at vital programs, then we will end up in a recession, people out of work for years. Labour is going to help teenagers and young adults find their place in life, by guaranteeing a place in training or education for all sixteen and seventeen year olds, and will guarantee anyone between the ages of eighteen to twenty-four a guaranteed place in training, work experience or a job if they are out of work for more than six months. The Conservatives are going to brush these initiatives aside like dusty lint. You're argument about cutting costs, taking some short term pain for long term gain rings hollower than a catwalk model's tummy my friend, because the long term cost of leaving young people to languish in unemployment is astronomical, both in the personal, and for the community as a whole, when we lose the vital contribution that these young people should have made, and when they are alienated from society, and feel they have nothing of value to give, that's when crime happens, that's when riots happen."
"Okay, talking about riots is just blatant scare-mongering, your whole campaign is just fears and smears, you're presenting it as if the whole country will implode if the Conservatives choose not to implement or continue funding of every single scheme which Labour has instigated."
"The whole approach of the Conservative Party is to just cut everything..."
"Yes, Will, including the salary's of MP's, by five percent, and then freeze them at that rate for five years."
"Okay, great gesture, the most important thing though is not gestures, but ensuring that appropriate services are delivered, you're talking about a 5% salary cut, but a cut of a third of all civil service jobs over five years is going to have a catastrophic effect on education, national security, research..."
"And if we don't make cuts, then everyone will feel the abysmal pain of an inability to pay for all these things, we can't just make money appear out of nowhere, like some genie granting us three wishes, we have to face facts, accept that some services may have to be cut, tighten the belt, and get on with life, instead of constantly expecting a hand out, everything delivered on a platter, and expecting no initiative in people to better their own lives. We cannot afford as a nation to micro-manage every single aspect of people's lives..."
At this point the debate chair called time, which meant Arthur was literally cut off mid sentence, but it was now time to move onto the next area to be debated.
The next topic was very much related to the economy, and Arthur was glad it was coming up early on the agenda, as Will Logan had been doing his utmost to besmirch Arthur on the issue of pensions and benefits for pensioners.
Arthur put forward the Conservative Party position, that the minimum age for receiving a pension funded by the state needed to be reviewed urgently, so that no man or woman could receive such a pension before they reached the age of sixty-six. In an time when the population was living for a longer time, this measure would be implemented by the Conservative Party by 2016 for men, and 2020 for women. The would also take all necessary steps to abolish any laws stipulating a compulsory retirement age, as this policy was now at odds with the reality of an aging population, where as many older people as possible needed to be encouraged and allowed to continue working, and by doing so, retain their own careers if that is what suited them, and also reduce the burden on the tax-payer.
When it came to the free question time, Arthur had the first shot at Will, and used it to dismiss, as false, Will Logan's claims that the Conservative Party would discontinue
the Winter Fuel Payments, concessionary public-transport fares, free eye tests and prescriptions and free TV licences for the over-75s.
Will then defended his actions. "Nowhere, in your own Manifesto, do you specifically state that these items are going to be protected. The Labour Party has done the right thing in bringing this absence to the attention of the public. If you want to chop and change and make up policy on the run, well then, that's fine, we've got it in black and white in our Manifesto, all the Conservatives have is their assurances."
"So, Will, you're trying here to make an issue out of a non-issue really, we've publicly stated that these benefits are not at risk..."
"Yeah, well, Arthur, with all the other cuts that the Conservative Party want to make, you can't honestly expect us all to believe that your party was not secretly considering this, hoping that it would not come up in any debates until after the election, and then you'd use the tough financial conditions as a convenient excuse..."
"Will, we've stated our position on the matter quite clearly, and your attempts at fear mongering and conspiracy theories are bordering on the pathetic, to be frank. The real issue that needs to be addressed tonight is Labour's utterly ludicrous timetable for increasing the age of the state pension. I mean, saying that you might increase it to 68 sometime between 2024 and 2048 is simply ludicrous, ridiculous, you might as well start talking about how much licenses will cost for our spacecrafts to the moon, as project that far into to future."
"No, mate, we actually employ economists and actuaries to do that number crunching for us, someone has to think about building Britain's future, it's foundations. I know you're too busy WEARING foundation to think about these things, Arthur, but in the Labour Party we actually think of things beyond our next photo opportunity and whether our complexion is looking delicate and radiant!"
At that the whole assembly hall started to laugh, some people just a titter, while other audience members were obviously looking for any reason to laugh raucously, and it took the Debate Chair a good two minutes to calm everyone down.
Arthur felt his whole countenance burn at the humiliation of it, because like it or not, there was an element of truth to it. It was not as though Arthur went about wearing make-up every day, it had just been deemed a necessity for the constituency letter, but suddenly, it seemed to Arthur like the most idiotic thing to be criticized for, and paradoxically, the most personal. It was petty, pathetic, totally irrelevant to the good governance of Britain, and yet, it was an Achilles heel, a small weakness and everyone here was laughing at him for being persuaded into thinking it was some great idea.
Somehow, Arthur pulled himself together, and the debate continued, and it probably seemed to everyone that Arthur accredited himself well, neither he nor Will were declared the winner, but as Arthur was milling about with his team at the end, he could not help but overhear some people chuckling about that "foundation joke, that Will Logan got him there, did you see how red he went."
Gwen looked at Arthur, just that small frown of understanding how much this must humiliate him. She couldn't really understand though, could she? They were all flogging themselves, working long hours, getting to grips with issues, finding solutions to real problems, and that was the moment those people were taking away with them from the debate. The idea that Arthur was some vain, foolish, fancy-dressing fop.
Uther fixed him with a steel glare. Arthur did not need to hear him speak, he could see it all, like some big damned thought bubble over Uther's head, "One little slip-up could cost the whole election..."
Arthur pushed away from them all. "I'll see you all later, Gwen, I just need some time to myself, okay?"
Gwen looked hurt, but nodded, not wanting to make a big scene when lots of locals were still milling about, exiting the building.
Arthur strode out through the front, and hailed a taxi. George would ensure that Gwen was safely returned home. Arthur just needed an hour or two to himself, to work through his feeling of failure, of the unfairness of it.
When he got into the taxi, he realised he had no idea where he wanted to go.
Almost as if on auto-pilot, he directed the driver to take him across town. He didn't feel anything, really, just a leaden kind of feeling. The driver looked at him in the back a few times, a bit worried, unable to figure out where he should be taking his passenger.
"You want a bit of entertainment, son?"
Arthur woke up from his daze. "Entertainment, you mean a club?" Arthur asked incredulously.
"No, son, not a club. Entertainment, you know, a gentlemen's establishment, if you catch what I mean."
Arthur got it. A brothel. He'd been to a brothel once in his whole life, and had found the whole experience a bit seedy and spectacularly overrated in his opinion.
"I know some pretty discrete places."
Arthur looked out the window, seeing his blank, drawn reflection peering back at him. "Sure." Arthur figured the driver just wanted to get rid of him, and Arthur felt, once he was dropped off, he could always wander off, once the taxi drove off.
The driver took a few turns, and eventually pulled over in front of a beautifully maintained Georgian house. "You look like the type that wouldn't be too interested in a cheap escort. This is popular with the toffs and upper management types."
Arthur smiled at him wanly, paid the fare, and got out.
He stood outside on the pavement, and the driver didn't just drive off, but was waiting for him to enter. Arthur shrugged, and walked up the little stairway, and through the ornate wooden door, with intricate lead-light panels.
He was immediately in a waiting area. A rather large lady, with a head of grey curls, was sitting at the desk, and immediately gestured to Arthur to come over. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he came over, smiling politely. He was about to start explaining that he really didn't need to stay, when she came barreling in towards him, and Arthur honestly wondered for half a horrified moment if she was going to offer her own services.
"Oh," she panted salaciously, "You are GORGEOUS aren't you. Honestly, most of the types that come here, well, they're well dressed enough, all perfect suits and tasteful, but grey, if you know what I mean. Whereas you are a sight for sore eyes, I'll tell you."
Arthur spluttered, he was trying to say something about arranging a taxi.
"Now, darling, don't get all terrified of me, like some rabbit in headlights, I know you're hardly likely to be interested in a fine, matured dame like me, you'll want some pretty filly, I'll find the right one for you."
Arthur's reluctance must have shown on his face, because she suddenly changed tack. "Maybe you're not after a night with one our ladies, but perhaps a night with one of our charming young men might be more to your tastes."
Now Arthur really did feel out of his depth. He was suddenly very regretful of venturing out on his own. When had he become so dependent, on George, on Gwen, on Leon, even Morgana and Vivian to steer him along.
"Now come on, young man," and she picked up her telephone, and apparently speaking to someone on the other end. "I know you're not busy tonight, I have a treat for you, so just you treat him gently."
Arthur was alarmed, at the thought that he might be shoved into a room with a large, tightly muscled man, who would most assuredly make Arthur want to race out the door, not abandon himself to a night of pleasure. He'd never thought of himself as exclusively a ladies man, but he did not especially relish the thought of being alone in a room with some buff, cut whore.
"No, I'm sorry, I've made a mistake here, I'm sorry for wasting your time, and blundering in here like some fool."
"Now, now, no need to get all jittery. The lad I've got for you, well, he's almost as pretty as our girls, actually he's prettier than most of 'em in my opinion, not that anyone cares about it, but he's a gentle one, too, won't force you to do anything you're not comfortable with. Honestly, half the time, the clients just want someone to listen to them. Now you just go on ahead, he won't bite, I promise."
With a sense of unreality, like someone else was walking down the hallway, Arthur walked until he got to the last door. He knocked, and heard a quiet voice say, "Come in."
They arrived at Avalon Hall just before 7:00pm. The butler ushered them into the drawing room, where Morgana and Leon were already seated, talking quietly, drinks in hand. Arthur and Gwen were soon sipping on mineral water, before Vivian arrived, 7:00pm on the dot.
Uther graced them all with his almost-smile. "I'd like to welcome you all to Avalon Hall this evening, I'm most pleased that we can come together to discuss Arthur's campaign. The next few weeks will perhaps be some of the most difficult and perhaps even wearying of your lives. The days will be long, you may sometimes feel impossibly long, but I remind you all that it is only a few weeks, that all of you are young and so should have stamina and fortitude, and also, think of the prize that awaits the victor."
"A Member of Parliament, in the House of Commons, wields the most potent power in the entire country, the ability to create and repeal laws, to consider and decide on policies for the running of Great Britain, the effects of which may be felt for years and decades to come. This is no small privilege that my son, Arthur Pendragon, has been granted to campaign for this seat, and so we must waste no opportunity, and not indulge any mistakes, as even the smallest mistake can result in disaster in a time such as this. Great Britain is poised on the edge of a precipice, and its people are responsible to deciding who they want to shape the future of us all."
Uther paused, and Arthur thought perhaps Uther had finished his opening address, but alas...
"We cannot expect the people of this great country to know which direction they ought to go. We must convince one and all of the need to reinstate a Conservative majority in Parliament, to end the rampant mismanagement of the Labour Party. Now I know that already a leaflet drop has been sent out, but I believe that tonight is the real beginning of our campaign, that we're all in this moment together."
For another ten minutes, as Uther droned on, Arthur observed his staff. Morgana's face was frozen into a smile which was looked as genuine as a plastic Barbie's, Leon was fiddling with a throw pillow and had unravelled a tassel, Gwen was trying not to huff with boredom, and Vivian was glaring at Uther, because she desperately wanted a smoke.
Eventually, Uther invited them all into the dining room at quarter to eight, Gwen tucking her arm around Arthur, as much to lean on him as to show affection.
Arthur whispered to her, "Don't let on to Uther that you're bored, or I'll never hear the end of it."
Gwen stiffened at that, aware that Uther did not think her at all a suitable candidate for the role of future MP's wife. It made her bristle, if she was honest with herself, as long as she was supportive of Arthur, why did Uther have to be so disparaging of her. She often thought he had more of an issue with her skin tone, than anything else, not that she would ever call him on it, for fear of the nasty repercussions for Arthur.
Vivian had ducked out to the manicured courtyard garden which adjoined the dining room, hastily smoking her Dunhill in less than a minute before she came back in, feigning as if she'd been in the dining room all along. Uther boomed out, "Vivian, my dear, please don't feel that you can't smoke, none of us here are the slightest bit worried by that, but you will need to hear all the discussions and planning tonight."
Morgana bit down a groan, Leon chuckled, because Uther clearly had no idea that inviting Vivian to smoke as it pleased her was an invitation to turn the atmosphere into choking smog. Vivian pulled out the Dunhill packet, silver engraved lighter, and the butler provided an ashtray. It was going to be a long night.
"Now, I would like to hear first about how you intend to promote Arthur as the finest candidate for the Brentford and Isleworth seat."
Vivian spoke up first, "Well, on the whole, I think we're emphasizing that Arthur will have a lot of energy and drive to deliver positive outcomes to the constituency, because the Labor and Liberal Democrats will be using the negative tactic, that Arthur is too young and inexperienced to take on this job."
She continued, "The CCHQ will be mostly commenting on the failures of Labour, from taking billions of pounds from pension funds, doubling the national debt, failure to act decisively to end the British Airways dispute because the Labour Party is bankrolled by the Unions, just basically reminding people of the failures, because otherwise apathy and loss of collective memory might mean these things are forgotten in the polling booth. The message that is going to be pushed is to voters is we must not reward failure, and let them do it all over again."
Morgana interrupted, "Okay, but that tells us absolutely nothing about Arthur's campaign. I think we need to have as many photographs as possible, Arthur talking to school kids, shopkeepers, housewives, business people, teenagers, just have him as someone able to relate to everyone, able to understand their concerns and willing to throw everything at an issue until there's a result. He's got no political track record, so lots of background, his days as an advisor, and being able to talk a lot of politicians onto his causes already. Also, I think we should promote his gap year, even though that was a few years ago now, but you spent it doing some humanitarian, voluntary work, isn't that right?"
"Yes, I spent six months of that year in Kenya, mostly teaching English in the local school but also digging out wells, for fresh water, and helping with education efforts for more effective crop sowing and harvesting. It was a great year, that."
Arthur smiled at the memory of that year, mainly because it had been Uther's idea, to use just in this exact context, but that would never change the joy that people had felt at his selfless help, and the joy that Arthur had felt in having no expectations on him beyond doing what he was asked to do, to follow orders. Sometimes having people constantly look to you for the answers, leadership, guidance, was wearing. He could never admit that to Uther though, it would be tantamount to admitting he did not have the stomach or stamina for a political career.
"I think both Morgana and Vivian are fully aware of the elements we need for a successful campaign, making voters aware of my particular strengths and abilities, but ultimately we must convince voters that change is imperative, that the Labour Party cannot be trusted with Great Britain's future, that these mistakes must not be allowed to continue."
Uther interrupted, "Well, clearly Vivian and Morgana are directing their focus at different angles of the campaign, and as long as the pieces of the puzzle fit, then we can be assured of success."
Vivian smiled at Uther, portraying sincere acknowledgment of his wisdom, even if the thought of being told she could fit together with that vapid, vague excuse for a Campaign Manager made her want to tell Uther he would not know a stupid whore if she put herself in a bus poster. Maybe Morgana could have some pretty pictures of herself made up while she was busy photoshopping Arthur's latest, Vivian seethed, vote Blond and Pretty for the future. Yeah, she and Morgana were so in sync.
The dinner itself was finally being served, an entree of delicate Thai fish cakes and spring rolls, with a spicy dipping sauce was supposed to be eaten daintily, however regardless of the grandiosity of the dining room, everyone was so famished and over it by that point, that the entree course was finished in less than ten minutes.
Arthur leaned back, accepting a second glass of red, feeling that everything useful that could be achieved this evening had been done, and that the sooner dinner was complete, the sooner they could all go home to catch up on rest.
Over dinner and desert, it was agreed that a professional photographer would be engaged the next day, to trail Arthur at his appearances for the next two days, to be worked into the next constituency letter. In the end, even Vivian had to agree that it was necessary to communicate to the voters not just what Arthur would do as a Conservative MP, but his own personal qualities.
Arthur sighed, frustrated that two brilliant women seemed determined to be at loggerheads, when he genuinely needed the contribution of both to make this a successful campaign.
Arthur was startled out of these thoughts, Gwen rubbing at his back, apparently all too aware of the tension that was manifesting first in Arthur's thoughts and consequently in his body. He smiled ruefully, it was like being held in a class where the teacher didn't want to acknowledge that every single student had lost their focus and was staring out the window.
When the dinner finally ended, everyone peeled themselves out of their chairs and headed for their cars.
It was past 11pm, but tomorrow would start back at 7:45am, to allow additional time for Arthur to be made up for his headshot photographs.
Vivian met Arthur the next morning, in his office, to let him know the stylist and photographer would be arriving at the office at 9:00am. They decided to have some initial photographs taken in Arthur's office, with the background of binders full of legislation, parliamentary reports, enquiry papers and all the other reams of information and opinion which the ordinary Member of Parliament would be expected to be conversant with.
Arthur was dressed in his navy wool suit, blue and white pinstriped shirt and a red and silver striped tie. He read through some press releases for the day, to realize that there are some issues which have been dredged up by the Labour Candidate, leaflets delivered throughout Brentford and Isleworth claiming that bus passes for elderly pensioners would no longer be funded if the Conservative Party claimed government. It was exactly the kind of fear of the unknown, of removing something which while it may not have seemed important to everyone, would be worrying for the vulnerable people who may lose a benefit. Such a benefit was for some the difference between the pleasure of paying a utility account, or paying said account and actually eating. These benefits which to the well-off seem paltry and small, but can sway a fearful voter to opt for what they know they currently have, as opposed to taking a risk on a change of government and getting, who knows?
Arthur knew he would have to work hard to combat such misconceptions and blatant misrepresentations. The Conservative Party had plans to reform the Welfare System, of that there was no doubt. In particular, the unemployed who refused paid employment offers would not be able to rely on the largess of the public purse, but would have a rude awakening of having benefits reduced or cut completely.
Arthur took a closer look at the Labour Party candidate's constituency flyer. Will Logan was a rough around the edges, straight-speaking candidate, who dripped venom against all the ideals and agendas of the Conservative Party, as being manifestly wrong-headed. His picture showed him cross-armed, the background a blurry representation of one of the local high streets, respectably attired in suit and tie, but still looking young and brash, ready to swing a riposte like a fist.
This was going to be a tough campaign. For all that Will Logan might seem tough and laddish, he was well liked by many of the locals, who found his belligerent style convincing and passionate. Arthur was naturally more poised and considered in how he spoke, and so in any debate, would have to be on his guard against appearing aloof.
Will's campaign starter was already homing in on the fears of the populace, that to vote in the Conservative candidate would mean an imminent loss of an important benefit. Arthur was already on the back foot.
The photographer and his assistant arrived, closely followed by the stylist. Arthur felt ridiculous having his hair fluffed up, and powder delicately swished with a large kabuki brush which made his nose feel ticklish. He knew it was important he present a professional, polished image, but really thought foundation was going a bit overboard. However, he smiled gamely at the stylist, who Morgana had personally selected, and kept these thoughts to himself.
The photographer's assistant set up several light-diffusing panels, and Arthur spent about forty-five minutes being verbally instructed in the art of appearing natural. Sometimes he was standing, sometimes sitting behind his desk, eventually the photographer had him leaning against his desk, posing like he was a catalogue model.
Morgana and Vivian were reviewing the photographs on the photographer's laptop, and oohed and ahed over the photos, for once agreeing on something, that the ones of Arthur leaning against the desk were the best.
"Hah, Arthur the hottie," Vivian teased mercilessly, "You'll have all the women in the constituency voting for you, based on these photos."
Morgana gave Arthur a cheeky eyebrow wiggle, "Maybe you should loosen the tie a bit Arthur, give the ladies a bit of what they want..."
Arthur just shook his head at the pair of them, they finally agree on something, and it's this, believing shameless objectification of his looks would win him the voters confidence. He knew they were only goading him, and he had to smile that finally, they could share a bit of cheeky banter with each other.
The initial part of the photography session completed, the photographer and assistant took a break, as they would be trailing Arthur and Morgana all day. Leon came in to advise Arthur about his campaign visits for the day.
Arthur knew he had to get straight on this bus pass issue before fiction became fact in people's minds.
"Vivian, I'm going to need you to draft a pamphlet advising our constituency that funding for bus passes for pensioners will not be removed if the Conservatives win. It needs to be short, sharp, a rebuttal of Will Logan's scuttlebutt, and we need to have it delivered tomorrow, so we need a draft by 11:30."
Morgana shook her head, "We should wait until the next Constituency letter, and reassure everyone that the Conservatives manifesto states specifically that the Winter Fuel Payment, free bus passes, pension credit and free TV Licenses will be protected for pensioners. Anything else will look scattershot, reactive."
Arthur disagreed, "It's not that I don't think that's exactly what we need to do in our next letter, but we need this pamphlet out asap. We need to emphasize that the Conservatives will protect the needs of pensioners, not take to them with a scalpel. We'll take a cut to MP's salaries to reduce the deficit."
Vivian nodded at Arthur, agreeing with his instinct to nip this issue in the bud. She left for her workstation without further comment, as she had only just over an hour to get it done.
Arthur and Morgana were doing their best happy banter chit-chat with the organizers of a local charity, cleaning and packing second hand books which would then be on-sold, the proceeds given to charities which had initiatives to assist the poor and the protection of the environment.
Arthur was chatting with a local mother who volunteered, and they had just been discussing their favorite meals to cook, as they were cleaning and packing recipe books, when the photographer asks her in a strained, trying so hard to be polite voice, if she could move aside so that he could get a better angle for his photos of Arthur.
Arthur looked kindly at the woman, Mel, and asked teasingly, "Fancy being in my next campaign letter? You'll be famous!"
Mel giggled, and Arthur looked at the photographer over her head, indicating with a toss of his head to take the photo with him and in it.
Morgana whispered to the photographer, and he quickly changed his tone, changing his angle so that Arthur and Mel would both be in the shot.
"Yeah, lovely, just keep on chatting to each other, like you were before."
They continued on, as a little group, to the Isleworth Library, to visit during some of its community activities. There was going to be a children's story time and craft session, teenagers were encouraged to come to a session on graphic novels, while later in the afternoon, there was a romance writer who was going to share her methods of writing a best-seller.
After watching a group of small children wriggle, squirm, cry and occasionally pay attention to the story-time, Arthur was surrounded by yet more young mothers, and offspring, and this time, the photographer took more photos than a paparazzo, ensuring there would be lots of good photos for the campaign. One of the mothers though, asked him about the bus passes and other pension benefits, if it's true they will be cut, as she holds onto a toddler who has run for the front door five times already. Arthur assured her this was not going to happen, that all benefits for pensioners would remain in place.
He held her energetic son for a few minutes, while she continued to quiz him, and after answering her questions while trying not to let kicking, flailing toddler go and run off, Arthur suddenly figured that being a candidate for a constituency seat was perhaps the second most tiring occupation he could be engaged in.
When they finally got back to his office, the pamplet had been drafted and approved by CCHQ, and could be delivered in the round of mail the next morning. Now, Morgana and Vivian would need to get cracking with the next constituency letter, ensuring that a slew of policy from the Conservative Manifesto was distilled into easy to digest snippets, which would engage the voters, while at the same time not over-simplifying policies and risk being accused of mis-leading the public.
"Arthur, while you were out, we received an email from CCHQ, Will Logan wants to hold a debate against you, at the Isleworth Town Hall," Vivian said, bringing the email up on her screen, "Leon, when can we schedule it in?"
"Hang on," interrupted Arthur, "Is this actually good for my campaign? I know that David Cameron is going to debate against Nick Clegg and Gordon Brown, and that is going to be in a lot of people's minds, do we really want a debate that compared to a televised national debate, is it going to come across as parochial?"
"Well, CCHQ seem to think it's worth doing," says Vivian.
Morgana nods her head, "I actually think it's going to be great for you, Arthur, allowing local voters see you in person, not just smiling for the camera, and volunteering for charities, but actually showing them all what you're made of, that you're going to stand up for them in Westminster, and not just make up the numbers on the benches."
"That's right Arthur, this is your opportunity to go toe-to-toe with Will, and gain the voter's confidence in you, when you convince them that the Conservative Party is not just good for the nation, but great for them, with their concerns. You have to take Will on directly about all these pamphlets as well, it's all well and good for us to put out a flyer, but you have to skewer him on this issue, like a rhino through a wild boar."
"Fuck, Vivian, are we talking about a political debate, or some kinky sex act," laughed Arthur.
Vivian just quirked a filthy grin at Arthur, "Stop getting distracted, Pendragon. You need to nail him. You know it! Rhetorically I mean."
Morgana by now had lost it, and Leon was turned away, chuckling, trying desperately not to let on that he'd been listening to Vivian's tirade. It was not at all convincing, seeing as Vivian had a carrying voice, and they were all in the office together.
"Well, Arthur, should I schedule it in with Will Logan's assistant?" Leon asked.
Arthur looked heavenward, and shrugged in resigned acceptance, "If Vivian and Morgana are going to keep ganging up on me and agreeing about things, then clearly I must acquiesce. Even if I think the idea is a total wank," Arthur added, defiantly.
"Oh, shut up! It's going to be in the town hall. There will be proper lecterns, and I'll personally see to it that we have Conservative Party bunting on every available surface." Vivian had found her pet project for the week.
The Isleworth Town Hall had been strewn with posters and bunting from both the Conservative and the Labour parties, from every possible angle, every possible viewpoint in the entire auditorium, there was a picture of Will Logan or Arthur Pendragon visible. Morgana and Leon had been at the Hall since the moment it opened in the morning, jostling with Will Logan's staff to get posters up in the most prominent locations, where the majority of the sitting audience would see them.
Leon and Morgana had to chuckle to themselves afterwards, at having done the dirty work that Vivian was suddenly unavailable to do, being much more urgently required to assist Arthur with reviewing the topics which would be debated that night. In the end it had been Morgana who had made the telephone calls arranging for posters to be printed, and she and Leon had driven to the printers to collect them, along with bunting and other paraphernalia which so subtly reinforced exactly who to vote for.
Arthur had been holed up with Vivian all day, and had been avoiding a number of telephone calls and messages from Uther. His rather limp excuse was going to be Leon's absence from the office, which was obviously porky pies, but there you go. He was doing his best to reign his nervousness in, he did not need Uther second guessing every single argument he was going to present tonight.
Arthur knew Uther would be expecting to talk to him immediately before the debate. It was unlikely he would be able to avoid him, unless he performed a stage dive over Uther towards the lectern, which Arthur thought, might impress some of the younger voters, but probably would seem crazy to everyone else. He felt confident, he knew his stuff, and he was ready for Will Logan. Uther's words, helpful or no, would not derail his confidence.
Meanwhile, Gwen had arrived at his office, looking demure and pretty in a green tailored shirt and herringbone skirt, her hair and make-up immaculate but thoroughly unremarkable, clean, presentable and respectable. A potential MP's wife had to complete the picture of confidence and stability, wear an impermeable armor of respectability and reliability. Arthur gathered her into an quick, affectionate embrace, grateful for her understated but genuine support.
Arriving at the Isleworth Town Hall, Arthur and Gwen were ushered in by Morgana, Leon and George, Uther and Vivian were already inside.
Gwen gave Arthur an encouraging squeeze before she made her way down to the front. Uther looked back and his steel gaze locked with Arthur's for a long moment, before he quickly strode towards Arthur. Arthur was not sure what was more intimidating, a room full of locals chattering, most of them disillusioned with all politicians in the aftermath of the expenses scandal, and curious as to why they should vote for any candidate at all, or Uther, bearing down and ready to cut Arthur to the quick if he deemed his performance a failure.
Uther spoke in a low mutter, that could only be heard by Arthur, "It's unforgivable that you did not respond to my communications today. I cannot believe you would not seek my advice before the most important night of your political career to date. I could have helped you, given you the benefit of my years of experience in public life and Westminster, yet you continue to treat me as an annoying irrelevance. I hope you're happy with your own preparations for this evening, because if you don't rise to the occasion, you do so with the knowledge that you spurned the advice and tactics I could have proposed to you today. That's all I'm going to say on the matter."
"Father, I appreciate all your help on this campaign, I spent today reviewing the issues with Vivian, and I think we've got everything well in hand."
Uther did not respond beyond a glare of reproach, before he turned away and went back to his own seat. Arthur felt a churn inside his gut, as much as he wanted to ignore Uther's dressing down, it still affected him emotionally to the point of making him feel slightly nauseous. Morgana came up to his side, and gave him a friendly squeeze, and suddenly, he and Will Logan were about to be announced by the debate chair, and in a what felt like a slightly unreal, dreamlike haze, Arthur found himself walking towards the stage as he was announced, shaking hands with the debate chair, and then with Will Logan as he was announced.
Arthur quickly sized Will up. His smart suit was well tailored, neat and respectable, and yet still somehow, Will Logan had street credibility. Whether that would translate to locals voting for him on election day was yet to be seen.
The chair formally introduced both candidates, before setting some ground rules for the debate. The chair would introduce each topic of debate, Will and Arthur would each have three minutes on how that particular issue would be handled by them or their party, before they would be able to question each other's points for a further five minutes, before the chair would require the next topic to be discussed.
The first topic up for discussion was the economy. They each had their three allotted minutes on the topic, before it came to questioning each other.
Will got out of the starting blocks that split-second faster, with "Okay, Arthur, you've shown that the Conservatives are going to take a big sharp razor to essential services and the civil service in the UK, that it's all going to be about cuts, and not looking at the broader picture of, yes, we need to get the budget deficit down, we need to get back to surplus, but not in this simplistic way that the Conservatives propose, that's just going to send the whole economy spiraling into recession."
"Well, Will, no, what we're proposing to do will do no such thing, we're going to prioritize spending cuts to bring back a semblance of balance and reality to the national budget, after more than a decade of Labour's profligacy. In lean times, if you don't cut back on expenses, you're living in fantasy land. We're seeing how countries around the world who will not wake up to reality are paying the price, we're all paying the price with them. It's about some short term pain, in the form of cuts, none of which will be to the most fundamental of concerns, Health and Foreign Aid, but these cuts must be implemented now, before the deficit becomes a crippling liability."
"That's the point though, if you pull the rug out from under the economy, by slashing willy-nilly at vital programs, then we will end up in a recession, people out of work for years. Labour is going to help teenagers and young adults find their place in life, by guaranteeing a place in training or education for all sixteen and seventeen year olds, and will guarantee anyone between the ages of eighteen to twenty-four a guaranteed place in training, work experience or a job if they are out of work for more than six months. The Conservatives are going to brush these initiatives aside like dusty lint. You're argument about cutting costs, taking some short term pain for long term gain rings hollower than a catwalk model's tummy my friend, because the long term cost of leaving young people to languish in unemployment is astronomical, both in the personal, and for the community as a whole, when we lose the vital contribution that these young people should have made, and when they are alienated from society, and feel they have nothing of value to give, that's when crime happens, that's when riots happen."
"Okay, talking about riots is just blatant scare-mongering, your whole campaign is just fears and smears, you're presenting it as if the whole country will implode if the Conservatives choose not to implement or continue funding of every single scheme which Labour has instigated."
"The whole approach of the Conservative Party is to just cut everything..."
"Yes, Will, including the salary's of MP's, by five percent, and then freeze them at that rate for five years."
"Okay, great gesture, the most important thing though is not gestures, but ensuring that appropriate services are delivered, you're talking about a 5% salary cut, but a cut of a third of all civil service jobs over five years is going to have a catastrophic effect on education, national security, research..."
"And if we don't make cuts, then everyone will feel the abysmal pain of an inability to pay for all these things, we can't just make money appear out of nowhere, like some genie granting us three wishes, we have to face facts, accept that some services may have to be cut, tighten the belt, and get on with life, instead of constantly expecting a hand out, everything delivered on a platter, and expecting no initiative in people to better their own lives. We cannot afford as a nation to micro-manage every single aspect of people's lives..."
At this point the debate chair called time, which meant Arthur was literally cut off mid sentence, but it was now time to move onto the next area to be debated.
The next topic was very much related to the economy, and Arthur was glad it was coming up early on the agenda, as Will Logan had been doing his utmost to besmirch Arthur on the issue of pensions and benefits for pensioners.
Arthur put forward the Conservative Party position, that the minimum age for receiving a pension funded by the state needed to be reviewed urgently, so that no man or woman could receive such a pension before they reached the age of sixty-six. In an time when the population was living for a longer time, this measure would be implemented by the Conservative Party by 2016 for men, and 2020 for women. The would also take all necessary steps to abolish any laws stipulating a compulsory retirement age, as this policy was now at odds with the reality of an aging population, where as many older people as possible needed to be encouraged and allowed to continue working, and by doing so, retain their own careers if that is what suited them, and also reduce the burden on the tax-payer.
When it came to the free question time, Arthur had the first shot at Will, and used it to dismiss, as false, Will Logan's claims that the Conservative Party would discontinue
the Winter Fuel Payments, concessionary public-transport fares, free eye tests and prescriptions and free TV licences for the over-75s.
Will then defended his actions. "Nowhere, in your own Manifesto, do you specifically state that these items are going to be protected. The Labour Party has done the right thing in bringing this absence to the attention of the public. If you want to chop and change and make up policy on the run, well then, that's fine, we've got it in black and white in our Manifesto, all the Conservatives have is their assurances."
"So, Will, you're trying here to make an issue out of a non-issue really, we've publicly stated that these benefits are not at risk..."
"Yeah, well, Arthur, with all the other cuts that the Conservative Party want to make, you can't honestly expect us all to believe that your party was not secretly considering this, hoping that it would not come up in any debates until after the election, and then you'd use the tough financial conditions as a convenient excuse..."
"Will, we've stated our position on the matter quite clearly, and your attempts at fear mongering and conspiracy theories are bordering on the pathetic, to be frank. The real issue that needs to be addressed tonight is Labour's utterly ludicrous timetable for increasing the age of the state pension. I mean, saying that you might increase it to 68 sometime between 2024 and 2048 is simply ludicrous, ridiculous, you might as well start talking about how much licenses will cost for our spacecrafts to the moon, as project that far into to future."
"No, mate, we actually employ economists and actuaries to do that number crunching for us, someone has to think about building Britain's future, it's foundations. I know you're too busy WEARING foundation to think about these things, Arthur, but in the Labour Party we actually think of things beyond our next photo opportunity and whether our complexion is looking delicate and radiant!"
At that the whole assembly hall started to laugh, some people just a titter, while other audience members were obviously looking for any reason to laugh raucously, and it took the Debate Chair a good two minutes to calm everyone down.
Arthur felt his whole countenance burn at the humiliation of it, because like it or not, there was an element of truth to it. It was not as though Arthur went about wearing make-up every day, it had just been deemed a necessity for the constituency letter, but suddenly, it seemed to Arthur like the most idiotic thing to be criticized for, and paradoxically, the most personal. It was petty, pathetic, totally irrelevant to the good governance of Britain, and yet, it was an Achilles heel, a small weakness and everyone here was laughing at him for being persuaded into thinking it was some great idea.
Somehow, Arthur pulled himself together, and the debate continued, and it probably seemed to everyone that Arthur accredited himself well, neither he nor Will were declared the winner, but as Arthur was milling about with his team at the end, he could not help but overhear some people chuckling about that "foundation joke, that Will Logan got him there, did you see how red he went."
Gwen looked at Arthur, just that small frown of understanding how much this must humiliate him. She couldn't really understand though, could she? They were all flogging themselves, working long hours, getting to grips with issues, finding solutions to real problems, and that was the moment those people were taking away with them from the debate. The idea that Arthur was some vain, foolish, fancy-dressing fop.
Uther fixed him with a steel glare. Arthur did not need to hear him speak, he could see it all, like some big damned thought bubble over Uther's head, "One little slip-up could cost the whole election..."
Arthur pushed away from them all. "I'll see you all later, Gwen, I just need some time to myself, okay?"
Gwen looked hurt, but nodded, not wanting to make a big scene when lots of locals were still milling about, exiting the building.
Arthur strode out through the front, and hailed a taxi. George would ensure that Gwen was safely returned home. Arthur just needed an hour or two to himself, to work through his feeling of failure, of the unfairness of it.
When he got into the taxi, he realised he had no idea where he wanted to go.
Almost as if on auto-pilot, he directed the driver to take him across town. He didn't feel anything, really, just a leaden kind of feeling. The driver looked at him in the back a few times, a bit worried, unable to figure out where he should be taking his passenger.
"You want a bit of entertainment, son?"
Arthur woke up from his daze. "Entertainment, you mean a club?" Arthur asked incredulously.
"No, son, not a club. Entertainment, you know, a gentlemen's establishment, if you catch what I mean."
Arthur got it. A brothel. He'd been to a brothel once in his whole life, and had found the whole experience a bit seedy and spectacularly overrated in his opinion.
"I know some pretty discrete places."
Arthur looked out the window, seeing his blank, drawn reflection peering back at him. "Sure." Arthur figured the driver just wanted to get rid of him, and Arthur felt, once he was dropped off, he could always wander off, once the taxi drove off.
The driver took a few turns, and eventually pulled over in front of a beautifully maintained Georgian house. "You look like the type that wouldn't be too interested in a cheap escort. This is popular with the toffs and upper management types."
Arthur smiled at him wanly, paid the fare, and got out.
He stood outside on the pavement, and the driver didn't just drive off, but was waiting for him to enter. Arthur shrugged, and walked up the little stairway, and through the ornate wooden door, with intricate lead-light panels.
He was immediately in a waiting area. A rather large lady, with a head of grey curls, was sitting at the desk, and immediately gestured to Arthur to come over. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he came over, smiling politely. He was about to start explaining that he really didn't need to stay, when she came barreling in towards him, and Arthur honestly wondered for half a horrified moment if she was going to offer her own services.
"Oh," she panted salaciously, "You are GORGEOUS aren't you. Honestly, most of the types that come here, well, they're well dressed enough, all perfect suits and tasteful, but grey, if you know what I mean. Whereas you are a sight for sore eyes, I'll tell you."
Arthur spluttered, he was trying to say something about arranging a taxi.
"Now, darling, don't get all terrified of me, like some rabbit in headlights, I know you're hardly likely to be interested in a fine, matured dame like me, you'll want some pretty filly, I'll find the right one for you."
Arthur's reluctance must have shown on his face, because she suddenly changed tack. "Maybe you're not after a night with one our ladies, but perhaps a night with one of our charming young men might be more to your tastes."
Now Arthur really did feel out of his depth. He was suddenly very regretful of venturing out on his own. When had he become so dependent, on George, on Gwen, on Leon, even Morgana and Vivian to steer him along.
"Now come on, young man," and she picked up her telephone, and apparently speaking to someone on the other end. "I know you're not busy tonight, I have a treat for you, so just you treat him gently."
Arthur was alarmed, at the thought that he might be shoved into a room with a large, tightly muscled man, who would most assuredly make Arthur want to race out the door, not abandon himself to a night of pleasure. He'd never thought of himself as exclusively a ladies man, but he did not especially relish the thought of being alone in a room with some buff, cut whore.
"No, I'm sorry, I've made a mistake here, I'm sorry for wasting your time, and blundering in here like some fool."
"Now, now, no need to get all jittery. The lad I've got for you, well, he's almost as pretty as our girls, actually he's prettier than most of 'em in my opinion, not that anyone cares about it, but he's a gentle one, too, won't force you to do anything you're not comfortable with. Honestly, half the time, the clients just want someone to listen to them. Now you just go on ahead, he won't bite, I promise."
With a sense of unreality, like someone else was walking down the hallway, Arthur walked until he got to the last door. He knocked, and heard a quiet voice say, "Come in."