One Law to Rule Them All (Except Us, Obviously)
Main image by RodBegbie
Bally bastards. Weak leadership? That wench wouldn’t know leadership if she was being led out into oncoming traffic on a leash and was throttled over and over again by some large lorries carrying textbooks on leadership skills. Curse that drivelling mess of a report. Norris stormed into his office and crashed into his heavy leather desk chair that crumbled slightly under his weight. He let out a number of indiscernible expletives as he threw the report down, randomly shuffled papers on his desk and stuffed them into one of the many racks that stood on his expensive oak desk.
How dare she accuse me of weak leadership! Has she not seen my deft rebuttals to the urine-soaked wet blanket that are the opposition every week in PMQs? How I guide my team and the entire country through this blasted souped-up flu pandemic? Where is the appreciation for that? He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his floppy blond hair and then pressed his fingers into his closed eyes in an attempt to release the pressure that was building up in his mind.
Crikey. It beggars belief at how such a small thing has become this gargantuan, wobbly trifle that could come crashing down on me, covering me in some gloopy, slippery mess. It was just a party! The light tinkle of glass signalled Norris’s first drink of the day; it wasn’t that unusual for him to take out his 40-years-aged Scotch whisky to let off a bit of steam while working. They did it 50 years ago, so why can’t I? he would often think to himself. He splashed a bit of whisky into the tumbler and downed it in one, pouring himself another.
I should have just admitted that from the beginning, but oh no – it was a ‘work meeting’. I had to keep my mouth shut until things were ‘fact checked’ and so that I didn’t ‘make a fool of myself’. Fool? Fools! I am the party leader, not them. Now bloody Farmer is full of ammo to shoot in my direction and he just won’t shut up about it. I wish I could shove a cork in his mouth and clog up his empty mind! Empty! Not just empty – his vapid mind is a void within a vacuum surrounded by a vast inanition! He chuckled silently to himself and took some cheese out from the small refrigerator beside his desk. It was hidden behind a wooden cupboard door to match the décor of his office. Wine bottles rattled together as he slammed it shut.
He leaned back in his chair that creaked as he did so. Just because I decide the rules, it doesn’t mean I have to follow them. He picked up the phone receiver.
‘Liz, my dear girl!’ he bellowed. ‘Care for a meeting?’