No Future Ch. 19bybradley_stoke©
The Good of the Country
Eric Esterhazy MP
Eric was infuriated. The Prime Minister had just humiliated him in front of the whole Cabinet. What kind of a woman was she? An out and out bitch, that's what.
Moreover, it wasn't as if he could defend himself by claiming that he'd been misquoted since his words had been broadcast live on national television. On Fox News UK, naturally.
"I got a little carried away," Eric told the Prime Minister. "Of course, I didn't mean to say that Muslims from Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan should migrate to Mecca if the situation got much worse. I was merely trying to suggest that the Islamic community already have a good system for handling the refugee problem should the war get much worse."
"It's a very delicate matter, Eric," said Dominic, the Foreign Secretary. "There's a huge arsenal of nuclear weapons in the region. The Iranians, the Russians, the Ukrainians and some of the Stans themselves: it's a tinderbox. The last thing we want is for the Minister for Housing and Urban Regeneration to make any ill-advised remarks. Thankfully, only the pinko newspapers and the BBC have picked up on it. With luck, it'll just fizzle out. But this isn't the time to exacerbate a tense situation."
"I agree with the Prime Minister," said Ivan Eisenegger, the Minister for Education and Welfare. "It's not only international opinion we have to handle with care. British Muslims of all ethnic origins expect constructive and sensitive diplomacy from the government with regards to our dealings with the belligerent nations. As far as the British government is concerned, the conflict isn't about religion. Nor even about culture. If anything, it has far more to do with water and oil."
When did Ivan ever disagree with the Prime Minister? And yet in private Ivan's views were, if anything, rather more robust than Eric's although he was noticeably reluctant about voicing them on Fox News UK. If Ivan had chosen to say in front of the television camera half of what he said to Eric in private then he'd fit right in. But Ivan's ambitions seemed set on a more distant goal than the Housing Minister's.
Eric, on the other hand, was the member of the Cabinet who appeared most often on television. Fox News UK knew he could always be relied on to express what the network considered to be the moderate side on any matter of national debate. Yes, the issue of immigration was becoming ever more worrying but there should be no discrimination against UK citizens of any complexion. Yes, there was evidence of climate change, despite the recent cold winter, but Eric wasn't convinced that the blame could be entirely attributed to the aviation and automobile industries. Yes, flood defences were ineffective and the catastrophic flooding of East Anglia and Southend and the number of lives lost was tragic, but we must remember the high cost of dealing with the problem and the fact that there are other more pressing issues. Yes, military defence was an ever-increasing burden on the UK's shrinking GNP and the arms were mostly bought from China and Russia, but a strong nation needed strong defence. Yes, Eric was speechless with disgust at the recent revelations regarding the crimes committed by paedophile and prostitution rings operating in the Southern Counties. Eric Esterhazy was the man Fox News UK liked to parade on the screen when an unerringly conservative opinion needed to be phrased with both reassuring sympathy and apparent authority.
Eric did very well out of this arrangement. The fees for appearing on television were undeniably generous. There were also the proceeds from the newspaper articles that he dashed off for the affiliated newspapers and websites. He was now one of the country's most well-known politicians and his wife and family were very proud of him. Even his constituents were starstruck by the Surrey MP who was more often seen on television than he ever was in Reigate.
"I'm worried, Eddie," Eric confessed to the Director of News and Opinion when he was next at the Fox News UK studio. "The Prime Minister called me out in front of the whole Cabinet regarding my unguarded remarks about the 'Stani ragheads. I think I might be treading on thin ice."
"The bitch!" said Eddie as he patted his good friend on the back. "After all you've done. What do you suggest we do?"
"What do you think the boss would say?"
Eddie mused about that. "I could ring America and find out, but I don't think he'd appreciate that. My guess is that he'd recommended you cool it. You're our man in the Cabinet. We can lean on the Prime Minister, but she has to kowtow to the pinkos in the coalition. You're a reliable man, but there's not a lot that a Minister of slums and slum clearance can do. Your path to promotion is off-limits unless we can get some shit to stick to that liberal pinko in Number Eleven. We'll keep you well away from discussions relating to immigration and foreign policy. That way you won't put your foot in it again."
"It was a simple mistake, Eddie."
"We don't mind ex-ministers, bloggers and talk show hosts coming on a bit strong, but a Cabinet Minister has got to be much more wishy-washy. We don't want the coalition to collapse. And most of all we don't want to let the red scum and their slimy green allies into government. That would be a fucking disaster. I'll have to think about it, but in the meantime what we'll try and do is position you more as an expert on business and the economy. Do you know much about that kind of stuff?"
"My degree's in Classical History," said Eric.
"And you didn't even get a first, you wanker," laughed Eddie. "Too busy chasing skirt I guess."
"I was active in the National Union of Students."
"Yeah. That was when there was such a thing. You did well enough to get to be Union President or something, didn't you? But at the moment, it's Economics I reckon you should be boning up on. I take it you're numerate?"
"Numerate, Eddie?" said Eric, affronted. "Yes, I can do arithmetic."
"As long as you don't make the same bloopers that other politicians do when they calculate compound interest or when they misunderstand statistics and probability then we can get you on a few business discussion programs. I also take it you're fully cognisant of your government's rather feeble economic policies, Eric?"
"They've not changed for over half a century, have they?" said Eric. "Lower taxes. Cuts in Public Spending. Incentives for Business. Target the workshy and encourage the wealthmakers."
"Well, yes, Eric. The policies remain the same, but the words we use to express conservative economic theory have to change with the times. If it sounds like a broken record then there are plenty of liberal media twats who'll jump on what a minister says and point out where this or that economic theory hasn't worked in the past. You need to sound bold, adventurous and modern. I think we can get our business guys to ply you with a few links to websites that can give you the concepts and the jargon you need. The conservative agenda will never go forward if it sounds like it's standing still or even going back. It's a step by step process. Look at the success we've had in America."
"I just hope those pinko Northern and Western States don't fuck it up."
"There's no way the GOP will ever relinquish its grip on the White House and both houses on the Hill," said Eddie. "It's locked in place. The conservative agenda is fully on track. And there's still a way to go. The tax burden is still unfairly distributed. The blue-collar scum should have to pay for the services they get from out of their own pocket. It's not the responsibility of those who've worked hard to get to the top to subsidise the skivers, the dropouts and the Mexican immigrants. There's too much laxity shown towards troublemakers like the eco-warriors, the multiculturalists and the socialists who want to reintroduce healthcare."
"You don't think the rebel states will carry out their threats?"
"What? Rerun the American Civil War in reverse? Have the Northern Pinko states and the Western Green ones secede from the Strictly Red ones that make up the majority of the United States? Believe me, it's different these days. The power isn't with the tree-huggers and the bleeding hearts. It's an alliance of Wall Street, the hicks and God All Mighty. Or at least the God who hates abortionists and smites all those who are insufficiently patriotic."
"And how's the conservative agenda going to advance in the UK, Eddie?" wondered Eric.
"I don't know. I'm not a fucking strategist. It's going to be through a combination of fear, greed and the ballot box, I guess. As always. Voters never want to give up on a tax-break. Voters don't want foreigners to take their jobs. They don't want to be told what kind of car to buy or what to eat. When it comes to the General Election the electorate always vote according to what it believes is its self-interest. It's up to us and you in particular, Eric, to convince the couch-potatoes that their self-interest is best served by the Conservative Agenda."
"And is it?"
"Of course it fucking is. You're a Conservative. What's good for the United Kingdom and the world is what's good for business and the patriotic Englishman."
"Scotsman. Welshman. Brit. You know."
Eric returned by taxi to his plush London apartment in Mayfair that had been bestowed on him through the generosity of Fox News UK and its parent corporation. He only occasionally returned to his constituency and then mostly to reassure his wife that he still cared for her and his two daughters. Eric knew that the two greatest threats to his ascendency was an image that was less than squeaky-clean and a performance as government minister that was less than merely competent. The success of his career as a minister was generally achieved by delegating as much responsibility as he could to civil servants who implemented what was, in actual fact, a relatively liberal housing policy in the face of ever stringent government cuts. His image was kept clean by the traditional means of maintaining absolute discretion and of making frequent phone calls to the wife.
Part of that discretion, of course, was the result of him owning two London apartments. One of these was rather modest and located in Clapham. This was an apartment he only ever visited for the benefit of cameramen who wanted to photograph him going to and returning from his ministerial office. The one in Mayfair was where he could do whatever he liked. No one knew he lived there apart from the Fox News UK Accounts Department.
What he decided he would like to do tonight was savour the amorous company of Edwina, a short large-breasted black woman whose real name sounded nothing like the name she used and who once confessed that she'd been a qualified architect in whatever godforsaken African slum she'd originally come from.
Eric loved to squirt his semen into her mouth and slap his penis back and forth, up and down, on her thick-lipped face while mascara slipped down her cheeks and her nostrils snorted out bubbles of viscous pale fluid. He loved to hold the uncelebrated architect down on the bed while he thrust into the tight anal orifice between her huge buttocks. He loved to hear her cries for mercy (how fabricated Eric neither knew nor cared) when he slapped her with a cane on the buttocks which for him was the real source of her attraction.
It wasn't her sparkling intelligence or ready wit which she demonstrated so well when they slumped naked on the bed with the television on, more often tuned to the BBC Parliament channel than anything else. Nor her slightly accented speech from which came substantially more eloquence than anything that emerged from his daughters' lips when they discussed whatever shit pop group or teen flick that was currently attracting their attention. Nor anything about her other than her talent at being fucked, taking it in the arse and begging for more. And all paid for by private accounts hidden from both parliamentary scrutiny and the tax man.
God Bless Fox News UK, said Eric to himself, as he fucked Edwina deep down her throat so that she would choke up not just saliva but often whatever she'd been eating earlier that day.
Perhaps Eric did value the fact that this black woman who could fuck so well was also so well educated. It appealed to him that he could exercise the power he relentlessly pursued in a fashion that would so literally humiliate the real life target of his verbal attacks on illegal immigration and women's rights.
If only he could do to the Prime Minister what he was now doing to Edwina. That would show the bitch. The Prime Minister was nowhere near as buxom, of course. In any case the cow was probably twice the black whore's age. But that wouldn't lessen the pleasure he'd get from pissing on the Premier and allowing the urine to trickle into her mouth, onto her prissy silk blouse and over her flat chest.
But would Eric ever get an opportunity to fulfil his ambition to befoul the leader of the Conservative Party? This could only be achieved if he followed the wishes of his boss in America and became an expert on the Conservative Economic Agenda. And then the trickle that would come down on the masses would be as smelly and yellow as that which he normally splattered over Edwina just when she thought that this time she might be spared that particular ordeal.