A slimy man is at a very large desk. He is speaking into a phone.
“Don’t worry Richard, sorry, yes, Sir Richard. Don’t worry Sir Richard. Look we have talked about how we were going to have to break it a little bit before…sorry…yes, I know, well look it is just a little bit. No, no, no it’s not a basket case like the East Coast mainline.”
There is a buzzing sound from a red telephone on his desk, “Look, hang on a minute, I have an important call on the other line.”
He mutes the mobile phone, puts it down on the desk and lifts the old-fashioned red telephone to his ear, “Hello, Rupert,” he listens for a minute or two, “Well that is very kind of you to offer. This week, let’s do nurses, followed by consultants the week after, with a dash of immigrants. If the comments sections seem a bit tame then why not go after the hospital executives and managers, you know publish a few salaries, significant events, patients complaints – you know the sort of thing?”
He listens for a few moments, “Yes quite, I completely agree, ungrateful sods. Speak to you soon,” he replaces the handset and picks up the mobile phone again.
“Sorry Richard, Sir Richard, where were we?” he checks his fingernails and holds the phone away from his ear to protect his eardrum from the shouting, “Look, Rich… SIr Richard, I promise you I will not completely break it. It just needs to be a little bit broken, you know, for us to be able to seal the deal, splash the cash, bring home the bacon… No, no I haven’t been smoking.”
He sits forward in his chair, “Listen, when have we ever let you down? Tell me, eh? Leave this to me and I’ll make sure it will all work out fine for us. Even if they suspect, there won’t be anything they can do about it. Everyone will be panicking about bloody Brexit for a start… Yes, I know… Can’t believe we have been so lucky to have such a massive distraction from our plan land straight into our laps. They always vote with their wallets as you know.”
A woman walks into the office. He cups his hand over the mobile phone and mouths, “Who are you?!”
“Your new specialist advisor, sir.”
“But I’ve already got three, what does her up the road think she’s playing at? No Sir Richard, not you!”
He glances angrily at the woman, “Look, I have got to go. Need to figure out how to make sure Number 11 keep their coffers shut. Speak to you soon.”
He turns to face the woman as the mobile phone is silenced, “And what, pray tell, are you going to advise me about?”