A Christmas Carol - Stave 5 - The End of It

In A Christmas Carol - Stave 1 - Margaret's Ghost, Prime Minister Theresa May met Margaret Thatcher's ghost, who warned her that she would be haunted by three spirits. Now that she has met the Spirits of Christmas Past, Present and Yet To Come, she has realised that her political friends are deserting her and to cap it all she had forgotten the sprouts.

Stave 5 - The End of It

Yes! and the bedpost was her own.  The bed was her own, the room was her own.  Best and happiest of all, the Time before her was her own. Her so-called friends had left her with nothing to lose so she might as well gamble everything on one last throw of the dice.

"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Theresa.  "I don't know how long I've been among the Spirits.  I don't know anything.  I'm quite a baby.  Never mind.  I don't care.  I'd rather be a baby.  Hallo!  Whoop!  Hallo here!

Theresa's husband, Philip, poked his head round the door.  "That long sleep must have done you good. Hallo to you too!

"Long sleep? What's to-day?" cried Theresa.

Philip responded by holding a sprig of mistletoe above his head.

"It's Christmas Day!" said Theresa to herself while enjoying a Christmas kiss.  "I haven't missed it.  The Spirits have done it all in one night and it's still well before dawn." Out loud "Sorry Philip, I must dash."

"You're not working today?!"

"Just a couple of hours.  When you go to church, try and sit at the back, I might be able to join you."

Theresa changed into what she hoped were suitable clothes. As she swept through the London suburbs in the official car, Theresa was making some calls. If she had followed the example of Scrooge in Dickens' Christmas tale, the unfortunate Police Officer Cratchit would be receiving a large, raw turkey with insufficient time to cook it.  Poor little Tim would probably end up with food poisoning. Fortunately Theresa had a more practical turn of mind.

Theresa was surprisingly nervous. She hoped it wasn't too early. She rang the bell and a rather bleary-eyed Police Officer Crachit came to the door.  She stared at the Prime Minister for a moment and said, rather hesitantly "Hello. Mrs May?"

Theresa smiled "I bring glad tidings. May I come in?"

"Yes. Sure. You'll have to excuse the mess."

"It's fine. I'll come straight to the point.  You've been given an award of £20,000 for your exceptional courage and dedication."

Roberta Crachit was dumbfounded. "I don't understand. What does it mean?"

"It means that you can turn the heating up and you won't have to worry about the rent for a while. The money is already in your bank account. There's only one condition."

"What's that?"

"Absolute secrecy. You can tell your husband that you've won a Government award but no one else. And don't mention me."

"I don't know what to say. Thank you. Are you sure I'm not dreaming?"

"If you doubt the evidence of your senses, get on line and check your account. Anyway - must dash."

As the sun rose unwillingly over the horizon, the white haired, bearded man bent down, harvesting his sprouts. A pair of leopard skin patterned sneakers appeared under his nose.  He looked up.  To say that he was surprised was an understatement.

"Er. Hello." said Jeremy Corbyn. For it was he. "Merry Christmas. This is an unexpected - Uh - pleasure."

Theresa decided to throw herself on Jeremy's mercy. "I need your help. The Brexit negotiations are a total fiasco and ..."

"And?"

"I've got an idea about how to fix it but it will only work if I can borrow some of your people."

Jeremy looked baffled. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Theresa smiled. "Spoken like a true Brit. That would be super."

... and so negotiations opened over two battered mugs in a rather makeshift allotment shed.  Theresa  explained her big idea. It was so obvious, that it was totally radical. Instead of cabinet positions being used to reward or buy loyalty, they should go to the person best qualified to do the job. The ex-diplomat on her own benches would be Foreign Secretary and a clever lawyer on the Labour benches would run the Brexit negotiations. And so on, and so forth. Jeremy agreed that these power-sharing arrangements were the best way through the current impasse.

After they had sketched out a framework, Theresa got up to leave. Jeremy asked if there was anything else he could do for her. She said that there was just one more thing he could help her with.

A little while later, Theresa was sitting in church beside Philip, her handbag bulging with sprouts. For the first time in ages she could look forward to the future. She was especially looking forward to seeing the look on a certain Minister's face when she made him Transport Minister with personal responsibility for the Southern Railway system. 

THE END

With apologies to the shades of Dickens and Baroness Thatcher and any living politicians that I have mentioned. I've thoroughly enjoyed playing with the ideas in Dickens' A Christmas Carol and applying them to modern times and political characters. Obviously, I've tried to steer clear of the party politics. I have no notion about how politicians spend their Christmas - so I have completely made this up apart from the words that I have stolen from Dickens' original novella.

A Christmas Carol - Stave 4 - The Last of the Spirits

In A Christmas Carol - Stave 1 - Margaret's Ghost, Prime Minister Theresa May met Margaret Thatcher's ghost, who warned her that she would be haunted by three spirits. She has already met the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present.

Stave 4 - The Last of the Spirits

The draped and hooded Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come hovered a metre or two away from the Prime Minister.

"Lead on," said Theresa. "Lead on. The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit."

They scarcely seemed to enter the Parliament; for the Palace of Westminster rather seemed to spring up about them, and encompass them of its own act. But there they were, in the heart of it; in the Commons, amongst the MPs; who hurried up and down, and plotted in groups, and looked at their phones, and trifled thoughtfully with their papers; and so forth, as May had seen them often.

The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of MPs. Observing that the hand was pointed to them, Theresa advanced to listen to their talk.

"No," said a big man with a monstrous blond mop for hair," I don't know much about it, either way. I only know she's dead."

"When did she die?" inquired another.

"Last night, I believe."

"She'll be remembered though?"

"Of course.  She'll be in the top ten worst Prime Ministers until the end of time.  Unbelievably rigid and lacking in imagination. Just when we most needed creative solutions. No wonder they called her Maybot."

Thersa put her hand to her mouth. They were talking about her.

"That's a little harsh."

At least she had one supporter.

"Really? After the way she mishandled Brexit?"

"You're right. She would be clear winner of the worst Prime Minister contest."

The group laughed. Then the wood panelling and rich furnishings dissolved into mist. Gravestones loomed around Theresa and the Spirit.

The Spirit pointed at a grieving couple. To her horror, Theresa saw that it was the Police Officer and her husband at a small grave.

"No. Not Tim?"

The Spirit inclined its "head" once more.

"It's not going to happen."

The Spirit pointed to an open grave nearby.

"Yes. Yes. I know. It's my grave. Well I'm fed up with your silly games and I'm no longer playing by your rules. Or anyone else's."

Teresa jabbed her finger into the place where the Spirit's chest should be. The Spirit stepped back as if in alarm.

"We can save that child and we will."

She saw an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into the dressing gown hung on the door. Typical. All pointing finger and no trousers.

"I will save that child - and show those bickering idiots in Westminster what happens when I get  imaginative."


 Tomorrow - Stave 5: The End of It

A Christmas Carol - Stave 3 - The Second of the Three Spirits

In A Christmas Carol - Stave 1 - Margaret's Ghost, Prime Minister Theresa May met Margaret Thatcher's ghost, who warned her that she would be haunted by three spirits. She has already met the Ghost of Christmas Past and she is getting increasingly concerned about the fate of a brave Police Officer's child, Tim.

Stave 3 - The Second of the Three Spirits

Theresa felt that she was restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger dispatched to her through Mrs Thatcher's intervention.

The clock struck one and Theresa heard a roar of laughter from below. She tip-toed down the stairs and hesitated outside the living room.

"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in, and know me better, woman."

Teresa entered timidly and found that the room had undergone a surprising transformation. Gone were the tasteful decorations - swept away by a tide of living green studded with living berries.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. "Look upon me."

Theresa reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast was bare.

"You have never seen the like of me before!" exclaimed the Spirit.

"Never," May made answer to it. "Except the last time that Boris attended a cabinet meeting."

The Spirit spluttered on its wine. "A joke! They said you didn't have the imagination to make jokes?"

"I've got plenty of imagination. I just can't find anything funny in the current situation. I've got so little room to manoeuvre and no-one appears willing to compromise or cooperate. Enough about me. How is the Police Officer's Tim?"

"Hold onto my cloak and we'll find out."

They flew through the streets of London and stopped just outside the Police Station. There was much laughter and back slapping after a job well done. As usual the Police had run towards danger while others ran away. Roberta Cratchit's quick thinking and courage had saved the day. Her smile was bright. A bit too bright. She said "I must go now. Otherwise no Christmas Dinner for Tim and Joe! She swung out of the Police Station confidently enough but seemed to get more wary and furtive as she approached her destination.

The Spirit asked "How do you think she fares?"

Theresa said. "It's strange. She saved a life today but she's acting as if she is ashamed."

"She has no cause for shame." The spirit put the emphasis on *She*. "Do you see where Roberta is going?"

Theresa seemed perplexed: "The food bank. I don't understand."

"Are you really so surprised? It is you who has chosen to let Police Officers' wages to stagnate. It is you who are presiding over a safety net being torn to shreds. Her husband had an accident. Now the whole family must survive on her meagre wage. They're short of everything. Money for rent, heating and food. The house is no longer warm. They will be evicted soon."

"But where will they go? What will happen to Tim?"

"Only the future will tell. You will meet that Spirit soon."

"I can't bear it. Please show me a happier scene."

They flew across the roofs of London and peered into a room filled with light and warmth. Paid for by the taxpayer, of course. Two men clinked glasses and laughed.

Teresa's eyes narrowed. She almost hissed: "Those two! What are they laughing at?" She listened carefully to the men talking. One of them said. "She can't last much longer." The other gloated "She's totally ensnared. With such a small majority, she can't reshuffle us." The other agreed "We wait until the moment is right and have a little chat with the 1922 committee."

Theresa growled "That wasn't what I had in mind. Please show me someone who isn't planning to stab me in the back. Someone who has something in common with me."

The next stop was Islington. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

The Spirit said. "To be fair, Mr Corbyn is more likely to stab from the front. Look and listen."

Mr Corbyn was getting ticked off. "Jeremy dear. What is the point of having an allotment if you don't bring the produce home?" He responded meekly: "I'll get the sprouts at first light tomorrow."

Theresa laughed. "At least I'm not the only one who forgot the sprouts. Are you trying to tell me that we have far more in common with each other than things that divide us?" An idea started to form in her mind - but it was outrageous! The opposition leader's house dissolved and Theresa was enveloped in her lovely warm duvet.

The bell struck twelve.

Theresa looked about her for the Ghost of Christmas present, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, she remembered the prediction of Mrs Thatcher, and lifting up her eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards her.

Tomorrow gives us Stave 4 - The Last of the Spirits.

A Christmas Carol - Stave 2 - The First of the Three Spirits

In A Christmas Carol - Stave 1 - Margaret's Ghost, Prime Minister Theresa May met Margaret Thatcher's ghost, who warned her that she would be haunted by three spirits.

Stave 2 - The First of the Three Spirits

When Theresa awoke, it was dark. She heard the clock strike twelve. It was past two when she went to bed. Surely the clock was wrong.

Margaret's Ghost bothered her exceedingly. Every time she resolved within herself, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream, Theresa found herself asking "Was it a dream or not?"

"Not."

Theresa, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found herself face to face with an unearthly visitor. It was a strange figure - at once both old and young, far and near, bright and dark. From the crown of its head there sprung a bright clear jet of light; and which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.

"Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?" asked Theresa.

"I am."

"Who, and what are you?" Theresa demanded.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Long Past?" inquired Theresa.

"No. Your past."

Hand-in-hand, they passed through the wall, and were walking across a beach.

"You know this place?" inquired the Spirit.

"Yes. It's Bournemouth. But how is it so bright and warm? and why are people wearing such unfashionable clothes. Anyone would think that Tony Blair was still Prime Minister.

"I am the ghost of Christmas past and this is October 2002"

"October isn't Christmas."

The ghost sighed. "You are rather literal minded. Don't you want to hear the speech?"

They entered the auditorium just as a somewhat younger Theresa started her barnstorming speech warning that people were calling the Conservatives the nasty party and that they must truly represent the whole of Britain. Theresa applauded enthusiastically.

The ghost asked "Do you think that your party is seen as being more or less nasty since you became Prime Minister?"

Theresa said "That's hardly fair. It will be years before my premiership will have any real effect on people's lives."

The ghost said "You were Home Secretary. Let's visit a Police Officer, who will be one of the first to be affected by your choices."

Before Theresa could say a word, they were standing in a front garden looking through the window at a child unwrapping presents with the help of his adoring parents. The mother was the very Police Officer who had foiled the bank raid the previous night. Or some years in the future depending on which way you choose to look at it. The boy started wheezing and she helped him use his inhaler.

Theresa looked worried. "What's wrong with the boy."

"His name is Tim. He has asthma and some other problems. Quite bad."

"He'll be fine though. The house is warm and his parents are able to care for him." Theresa's tone was less confident than her words. "He'll be fine, won't he?"

"The family are stretched to the limit and their circumstances will deteriorate as your policies bite. I see a vacant seat," replied the Ghost, and an inhaler without an owner. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die."

"No, no," said Theresa. "Oh, no, kind Spirit. Say he will be spared. That the family will get the help they need."

The spirit retorted "There is no magic money tree."

Theresa observed that the Spirit's light was burning high and bright; she seized the extinguisher-cap, and by a sudden action pressed it down upon its head. She was conscious of being exhausted, reeled into bed, and sank into a heavy sleep.

 Tomorrow - Stave 3: The Second of the Three Spirits

A Christmas Carol - Stave 1 - Margaret's Ghost

With apologies to the shades of Dickens and Baroness Thatcher (who will always be Mrs Margaret Thatcher to me), I've tried to create a diverting tale with some political characters while steering clear of the party politics. I have no notion about how politicians spend their Christmas - so I have completely made this up apart from the words I have stolen from Dickens' original Christmas Carol novella.

Stave 1 - Margaret's Ghost
Margaret was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. Mrs Thatcher was dead as a doornail.

Theresa knew she was dead? Of course she did. How could it be otherwise? She had followed in Mrs Thatcher's footsteps to the very door of number 10 and was now Prime Minister.

Once upon a time -- of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve - Mrs May sat busy in her office.

She interrupted her study of the umpteenth red box to watch the news headlines. She smiled approvingly at the news that a brave, quick-thinking Police Officer had foiled armed bank robbers and, almost certainly, saved the bank manager's life. That Officer was certainly a woman who deserved a Merry Christmas. But Bah Humbug to everyone who refused to consider sensible compromises over Brexit and Cabinet Ministers who seemed to be doing their best to redefine sleaze. And herself for forgetting the wretched sprouts.

Red boxes completed, Theresa looked gloomily at the clock. She really didn't want to disturb Philip so late and climbed the stairs to sleep in one of the guest rooms. There was nothing at all particular about the handle on its door, except that it was very large.  Theresa saw, not a handle, but Mrs Thatcher's face.

Margaret's face.  It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the house were, but had a dismal light about it. As Theresa looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a handle again. She did pause, with a moment's irresolution, before she shut the door; and she did look cautiously behind it first, as if she half-expected to find one of her younger relations snap-chatting her bemusement.

She sat down at the dressing table and prepared to remove her makeup. Her mobile rang. She shuddered as she saw the name of the former Prime Minister on the screen. The ringtone was succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain up the stairs.

Her colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the heavy door, and passed into the room before her eyes.  The same face: the very same.  Margaret in her blue suit. The chain she dragged was long, and wound about her like a tail; and it was made of all the sacrifices that she had made during her political career. All the times she wasn't able to be there for her children, the people who had suffered when she had made tough choices.

"How now!" said Theresa. "What do you want with me?"

"Much!" -- Margaret's voice, no doubt about it.

"You are fettered," said Theresa, trembling.  "Tell me why?"

"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost.  "Would you know the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself?  Longer than mine - I may have been controversial but at least I was competent. Your chain is made of hubris, clichés, bizarre choices of ministers, food banks, Police Officers living in poverty and more.

Theresa had been well brought up but her young lady's book of etiquette hadn't prepared her for this. She wanted to explain that she had inherited a dreadful situation but knew that Margaret disapproved of people who made excuses.

"You were always a brilliant politician, Margaret," faltered Teresa. I've done my utmost to honour your memory. To be strong and stable. She was rewarded with a sharp look.

"You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, "by Three Spirits."

Being much in need of repose; Theresa went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant.

Tomorrow will bring Stave 2 - The Ghost of Christmas Past.