Two weeks later, the Prime Minister left the weekly Cabinet co-ordination meeting looking pleased with himself. He had given an account of the newly launched election campaign, emphasising that early opinion polls showed a clear lead for the governing parties. His own party looked particularly strong amongst constituents, something he’d cleverly downplayed during the meeting. He had casually remarked that he supported the Coalition Party having influential Cabinet posts after the election, based on its share of the vote, of course.
‘You tabled the idea of a reshuffle very elegantly,’ his press secretary said as they strode through the corridors of the Parliament.
‘I was thinking of the Foreign Secretary, but you guessed it as much. I simply can’t stand him and his constant attempts to be the holder of the correct diplomatic assessment on interacting with other countries. After all, I’m the one who usually talks to Heads of State,’ he replied in a whisper, letting a smile brighten up his face as he continued: ‘Let’s go to the office and run through my diary for the coming week. I take it you’ve already drafted a comprehensive strategy for announcements I should make.’
The PM was looking forward to the election campaign. He had 10won the last election by a landslide, and after some initial criticism of his dress code, he soon had that side of things down to a tee, even to the degree that his wife barely recognised him. He revelled in his new-found self. The new public persona: the image of strength it conveyed. The myth he now had to maintain. He could look forward to another four years in power if he managed that as effectively as last time. Power. The word was almost palpable. He enjoyed calling the shots and felt he was good at it. Better than any of his government colleagues. No contest. Seeing his reflection in the glass doors, the PM straightened his back and nodded at the security guard as they passed through access control and headed for his office.
‘Right, let’s have it, your plan,’ he said, turning towards the press secretary as the door closed behind them.
The press secretary extracted a document from his briefcase, handed it to the PM, and settled himself comfortably on the sofa.
‘Not bad. Not bad at all,’ the Prime Minister murmured as he paced back and forth, absorbed in the strategy paper.
‘It’s best just to parry off all questions and let the opposition appear to be rocking the boat. Not much policy content in that, but never mind, as long as we win,’ the PM continued and sent the press secretary a rapturous look.
‘And they haven’t got anything on us. Whether it’s our fiscal policy or our support for the US in the war on terror, our line comes across successfully in the press. Any criticism will ring hollow in the ears of the citizens.’
And yet again, it will make me stand out as a great strategist and a man of the people, he thought. He felt once again extremely 11satisfied with the image that had come to prevail with the public, an image created mainly by his skilful press secretary.
‘As always, you’ve concocted a good plan,’ the PM said when he finally returned the paper and sat down, smiling broadly.
‘Coffee?’