Chp1
Jolly Good!
15th December 1975, Buckingham Palace, London
Captain Saunders regarded me and smiled amiably, as always. “For the record, sir, me and mine are very grateful,” he said. He must have seen some semblance of shock and awe on my face, for he simply nodded as I did and asked, “Ready, sir?”
“As I’ll ever be, heh!” I claimed, “and, for the record, Captain,” I said, gathering my reflections, “thank you. It means more to me than the baubles and trifles that they fling at my person as honours.”
He beamed and opened the great oak doors to the Indian Drawing Room.
“The Prime Minister, Your Majesty” he bowed.
As expected, she stood gazing into the flames, like as she might divine the very nature of existence. Rain or shine, winter frost or summer warmth, there would always be a fire roaring merrily at the audience. And HM would look into it to collate her thoughts before I was announced.
“Your Majesty,” I bowed deeply.
“Thank you, Saunders,” she smiled and dismissed the captain before turning to me, “Good morning to you too, Prime Minister.”
“Only for a nonce longer, ma’am,” I smiled wistfully.
She motioned to the settee in front of the fire to sit down and asked, “Tea, Prime Minister?”
“A gentleman never declines an offered cup, ma’am,” I grinned as I sat down.
She handed me a cup and saucer, took one for herself and then the shrewd eyes turned to attend on me. I don’t think many cognise the degree of intense intellect that is veiled behind those eyes. Tis the gaze that made Churchill squirm in his seat like a guilty child who ate too many cakes and shut Eden’s sanctimonious bleatings up sharpish. Both commendable tasks, though challenging to accomplish.
“You’ll be pleased to know, this audience can extend as long as you request,” she said, taking a sip of her tea, “I’ve had my diary freed for it.”
“Most gratified to hear that, ma’am, there is much to recapitulate and brief you on,” I sighed, “Much that even your red boxes make mere faint mention of.”
You could tell she was a tad astonished by the fact that her eyes grew slightly wider before returning to the neutral. HM does not enjoy being kept in the dark, nor should she be, but the civil service had their games. Even as PM, I’ve ascertained a few things long after the fact, the minutiae never materialising in my red box, seemingly dropping out of them. I didn’t realise this problem until it was pointed out to me of course. Plum didn’t satirise my youthful fatheadedness for nothing.
“Oh, I was not aware that the government was concealing knowledge of something?” she queried, though the curt tone of her voice was a transparent indication of the frayed temper.
“Truthfully, nor was I, Sir Humphrey informed me of sundry of the unlamented Sir Arnold’s misdeeds, ma’am,” I said apologetically, “Apparently, Your Majesty was not alone in being kept in the dark, however, and the purge, as the media puts it, helped scour the civil service quite a bit. They seemed to be operating unfettered in their Victorian worldview.”
“There were numerous appeals and pleas awaiting my consideration before your civil service reshuffle, though I remember making you aware of the fact,” HM thought aloud.
“Jeeves kept me apprised of the affairs that seemed to mystically fall out of my boxes regularly, ma’am. I had thought Your Majesty’s household might have also comprised of such resourceful individuals,” I mused. She smirked at that.
“The Royal Household is a den of myriad secrets, a nest only the QM has learnt to unravel, and save for gossip of marriages for the Prince of Wales, politics is rarely a feature at tea-time, Prime Minister,” HM chuckled on. With a serious expression she questioned, “Resignation for certain then?”
“The day I set out on this task, I knew I had signed away my Commons career, ma’am. 20 years in No. 10 isn’t a bad innings, though! Longest serving PM of your majesty’s reign, I shall have that on my tombstone!” I grinned like the Cheshire cat, “And naturally I shall stand for the Lords. I think my career has been superlatively satisfactory!”
She snorted, “As if my sensible aunt Vicky would tolerate such unsound conduct! She will have no qualms about raising you from the dead the wring you dry like a damp tea-towel for that! I must agree on your career assessment. A good run”
“Just so, ma’am. Nevertheless, it is more a question of my party, and the coalition at large, being no longer disposed to suffer my premiership. The Lords already believe themselves betrayed in my first term, and no one seems to have shaken the wisdom into them. I shall endeavour to do so should I be fortunate to win a seat there. As for my coalition, Stansgate told me in no uncertain terms, either I walk the plank honourably or fire and brimstone will descend,” I explained. “The man bleats like a sheep about his lofty ideals, I think it unlikely that he would lead any government. Why Labour chose him over Callaghan confounds me even now!”
She nodded and motioned for me to continue. I stood and bowed and proclaimed in a clear voice-
“Your Imperial Britannic Majesty, I humbly submit that I can no longer command the confidence of the House of Commons in the Parliament of this United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Therefore, I must withdraw from the august position that Your Majesty generously bestowed upon me and ask respectfully that Your Majesty release me from this office. As my concluding counsel as the First Lord of your Royal Treasury, I ask that Your Majesty issue a writ of dissolution, that the lords, ladies and gentlemen of your parliament assembled, may go forth to your peoples and regain their favour, that Your Majesty call upon the people to elect a House anew, to convene in parliament, and by your favour, govern ably in your name all your realms and its subject peoples.”
“Whereas we, in our grace, by god’s good guidance, are satisfied with your able duty, we release you from your service as our First Lord” she replied in a clear voice.
“The Queen wills it, and I obey,” I exclaimed, finishing the formal oath.
