The Westminster Clock Tower.
The small anteroom behind the famous Big Ben clock face, looming large and high.
Michael Cocks stands, back to us, staring out through the frosted panels of the clock.
The Division Bell rings.
The Speaker rises from his chair in the Commons Chamber.
Speaker Order. ORDER!
The Members’ Lobby. Members are running around the palace in a panic – announced, as always, by the Speaker as they enter.
Speaker The Member for Bromsgrove! The Member for Woolwich West!
Bromsgrove Oi, Bill. (Whistles.) Bill, what’s the bother?
Woolwich West He’s bloody going, i’nt he?! Off to see the Queen.
Bromsgrove No, bollocks, says who?
Woolwich West Harrison.
Bromsgrove … Walter? Oh no …
Woolwich West Some time today. That’s it, another bastard election. (Goes.)
Bromsgrove Oh, shit-a-fucking-brick, no – (Goes to run.)
Speaker The Member for Rochester and Chatham!
Rochester and Chatham Is it true?
Bromsgrove You should know, he’s your leader, love. (Goes.)
Rochester and Chatham Oh don’t be like that. Terry!
Speaker The Member for Paddington South!
Paddington South enters, holding a red ministerial box.
Rochester and Chatham Well?
Paddington South ARSE!
Rochester and Chatham It’s true, then.
Paddington South Bloody typical, the Labour lot catch wind of it first and we’re in ruddy power. Shows who your friends are. Christ!
Rochester and Chatham Look, the Deputy.
Paddington South Jack!
Jack Weatherill, the Conservative Deputy Whip, enters. He wears an incredible suit.
Weatherill Afternoon.
Paddington South Is it true, he’s calling it today?
Weatherill I understand your concern –
Rochester and Chatham Concern?
Weatherill – and rest assured, both of you, when there’s news, if there’s news, it will be announced through the usual channels. Please excuse me (Goes.)
Paddington South (calling after) The usual channels? Come on, Walter Harrison is already spreading it around like shit on a field! How can a Labour whip be announcing it before the Tories? Jack?
The Government Whips’ Office, to one side of the Members’ Lobby.
One main office with an adjoining door to another, off. Desks, sofas, TV, safe, drinks cabinet.
Atkins sits calmly, listening to classical music.
Weatherill enters.
Weatherill Chief. Bit of a to-do out there. (Begins clearing out his drawers.)
Atkins I imagine so, yes. Just enjoying the calm before the storm.
Speaker The Member for Paddington South!
Atkins Enter.
Paddington South knocks on the door. Atkins gets to his feet now and begins to ‘pack away’ with real purpose, emptying his (black) ministerial briefcase, even shredding paper. Throughout this, the lights occasionally dim and flicker, due to power shortages.
Paddington South I don’t believe it, Chief; bloody hell. Finally, I finally get my hands on one of these (his box) even if it is as just a mere underling, it’s still –
Weatherill Please, there’s a good chap, / this really isn’t the –
Paddington South It’s still a foot in the door! But I won’t be coming back, you know, with my majority, I mean it. The seat’ll go red this time, you just watch, you just –
Atkins There’s nothing I can do, old bean. Why and whence and where an election occurs is entirely a Prime Minister’s prerogative, whether or / not individual members –
Paddington South Yes, but some bloody notice wouldn’t have gone amiss, it’s anarchy out there, blue-arsed flies.
Atkins That’s why they call it a snap election, Nicholas. It isn’t a ‘bend slowly until it gives’ election, it isn’t a ‘stir gently over a medium heat, reduce to simmer and then serve’ election. It’s a ‘snap’. Quick and painless, off like a plaster –
The phone rings.
Paddington South Painless?! Hah!
Atkins (answering) Whoever you are, yes, it’s true, clear your desk. (Phone down.) A key component in the element of surprise is the element of surprise.
Paddington South Labour aren’t surprised, there’s been a ruddy party kicking off in the Strangers’ for the past hour, meanwhile up in the Smoking Room we’re none the bloody wiser, head in the sand! I mean why now, the polls so precarious, why? It’s not been five years, it’s not even been four! I needed more time, my constituents barely –
Clerk knocks.
Weatherill Come in.
The Clerk enters, and during the remaining dialogue Atkins removes everything from his black box and hands it to the Clerk, as well as keys, signing everything away.
Paddington South Dammit, what a rotten bloody system this is, the whole thing. God!
Atkins (as he de-junks) Cruel as it may seem at this present juncture, this ‘rotten system’, the foundation stone of democracy, is one of the few things this country has manufactured and exported that hasn’t been sent back. Envied the world over for its simplicity. One person, one vote, sending one member, to represent them in one house. And the party with more warm bodies than any other, governs. As one.
Paddington South Yes, but this time they won’t be sending me back, that’s what I’m saying!
Weatherill (warmly) You’ll be fine, Nick. Chin up.
Atkins (carrying on) And this building, this hallowed earth upon which we stand, this mother of all parliaments – yes she’s showing her age, but like all good ‘mums’, she’s showing it with dignity and with grace – (To Clerk, taking back some keys.) hang on – This House serves to remind us that we are but its temporary trustees, Nicholas. (Removing his key fob.) This is mine. (Handing back the keys.)
Clerk begins retrieving Paddington South’s red case – emptying it, keys, signature.
Atkins Whether you’re a lowly MP at the bottom of the pile or Her Majesty the Queen at the top. We are tenants, old chap. The crown moves from head to head, and when parliament dissolves at five p.m. today, I am no longer the Member for Spelthorne, nor Jack the Member for Croydon North East, nor you the Member for Paddington South. But Paddington, sadly, will go on without you. It is a lesson we all must learn. Earth, and dust. (Lightly touching his black case on the table.) Hope to see you again, old friend.
Clerk exits, taking with him the two cases.
The Opposition Whips’ Office – the other side of the Members’ Lobby.
Bob Mellish, Labour Chief Whip, has also begun to pack up, picking from sausage and chips wrapped in newspaper as he goes.
Speaker The Member for Bromsgrove!
Bromsgrove (entering, sees Mellish packing) Oh, Jesus Christ.
Mellish No, it’s Bob actually, but the likeness is uncanny. Saveloy?
Bromsgrove Chief, what’s going on?
Mellish Look I know as much as you do, Terry; where the bleeding ’ell is Walter – ?
Walter Harrison, Labour Deputy Whip, bursts in, closing the door behind him.
A beat. Waiting …
Harrison raises his arms in victory, cheering. Mellish then follows suit.
Harrison WHEY!
Bromsgrove Oh no.
Harrison and Mellish meet in the middle, doing a little improvised victory dance, shouting, clapping, laughing and grunting.
Harrison What you doing?
Mellish The dosey-doe, innit, like at weddings.
Harrison Oh, I was doing the flamenco, with the – (demonstrates) you know.
Mellish Doesn’t matter, ’cause we are on our way back! Come on! (Continues packing away, with Harrison now.) Where are the others? Where’s Cocks?
Harrison Michael? Dunno.
Bromsgrove Yeah, alright for you innit. Not defending a tiny majority, are you? Eighteen hundred me! What are you, Walter – Wakefield? Ha ha. Wake – Kill for Wakefield, bloody hell. Couldn’t have given me an effing mining town, could they. Mill town, salt of the earth, no. And they’ve only gone and merged me with Redditch, now. Redditch, for God’s sake; that’s killed it.
Harrison Bugger off; Redditch? It’s manufacture, / industry, workers –
Bromsgrove Oh, bollocks, honestly Walter, that’s … needles, that’s all they make, that’s all they bloody well make in Redditch. Needles. That’s it. And I voted against the refuse bill – that’s you lot, that is, making me, forcing my hand. They wanted it round my way. Lot of rubbish in Redditch, you know!
Harrison (at the chips) Oi, what’s this, no mushy peas? Travesty.
Mellish Oh give over, ‘mushy peas’.
Bromsgrove Chaps –
Harrison Like having a bath with no bubbles.
Mellish You uncouth Northern brute, you –
Bromsgrove I’M BEING SERIOUS! …
Mellish Alright, Tel, I know, we’re only havin’ a laugh. You’ll be OK –
Bromsgrove I won’t be. I know it. They’ll boot me out. ’Cause I did what I was told, towed the party line, stayed loyal. And look what good it’s done me …
Harrison Do you ever look up at the sky? Terry? Ever watch the way birds move en masse? Their ability to survive lies in the fact they all imperceptibly, instinctively, turn together. On our own, we’re nowt. That’s the job of the whips. The job is to transmit in a way that is undetectable to the eagles circling above, the job is to communicate the instruction ‘Turn’. ‘Turn now.’ ‘Turn all of us, together, now, and we might make it. We might just bloody well make it.’
Bromsgrove I hate birds. They shit on you from a great height.
Harrison You’ll be alright. And if not, there’s other elections, other seats.
Beat.
Bromsgrove (nods, turning sadly; stops, turning back) Oh what’s the point of it all … ? Eh … ? What’s the bloody … point?
He exits.
Mellish Don’t worry about him, he’ll be OK.
Harrison Yeah. Although, no, he won’t be, will he, but …
Mellish That’s life.
Harrison That’s politics.
Harrison leaves the Opposition office, stepping into:
Members’ Lobby. Bumping into Weatherill, coming the other way. They don’t shake.
Weatherill Ah, Walter. The ‘man of the hour’.
Harrison Jack. I see you’re off to inspect the troops. (At his large notebook.) My oh my, look at this, that’s a new one, what is it, leather? Bit big, though.
Weatherill Oh, do you think? I rather like it, substantial, plus the lines are not too thick.
Harrison (taking a small notebook from back pocket) Here, look, see? Small and simple.
Weatherill (taking his, flicking) Hmm, yes, ‘old reliable’. Well, not without its charms, easily accessible I suppose, but where’s that sense of authority, Walter? The weight of information.
Harrison Members see a big fat thing like that, they think you’re compensating for something.
Weatherill Ahah, well. You believe what you like. I must get on.
Harrison So will I still be dealing with you, do you think, after the big heave-ho, the old switcheroo?
Weatherill I’ll go where I’m put, Walter, of course; and ‘switcheroo’ – come off it, you know we’re staying in. I mean / yes, of course –
Harrison Staying in, have you / seen the polls?
Weatherill It will be tight. Yes, I have seen the polls, Walter; we’re in the lead in the polls –
Harrison Only just; nowt in it.
Weatherill In dark times, the electorate sticks with the devil it knows.
Harrison Ay up, they’re only dark because you can’t keep the lights on! I mean surely the most basic test of a government is that they can keep the blinking lights on, Jack.
Weatherill Still, after all this, perhaps you’ll finally get to be the Chief Whip now, ‘Deputy’.
Harrison Well. Perhaps you will be your side, an’ all, ‘Deputy’. (Makes to go.)
Weatherill And, erm. How did you find out so quickly? The election?
Harrison I don’t kiss and tell, Jack. Should know that about me by now.
Weatherill (beat; holding his hand out) Walter.
Harrison (shaking it) Jack.
Up in the Clock Tower. Cocks is still facing the clock, staring out. Clockmaker arrives, climbing up the stairs, into the room, jangling keys.
Clockmaker ’Bout done, are we, Mr Cocks? Only they’ll be coming up to turn the light off.
Cocks Oh. Yeah, no. Course. Ta for letting me, uh …
Clockmaker That’s alright. My predecessor, he left me a note. ‘Mr Cocks goes up the clock, no questions asked.’ I thought it were a nursery rhyme at first. (Beat. Pointing up.) What’s the deal with the light, anyway?
Cocks The Ayrton Light, above the clock. Shines when Parliament is seated; put out when it rises. Lot of funny rules and traditions here, you’ll start to learn.
Clockmaker Londoner all my life, me, never even knew you could stand behind that thing.
Cocks Most famous face in the world. Never stopped ticking, you know, since it first, like … Even during the war, the blitz, bombs raining down. Stubbornly, just – kept on ticking.
Clockmaker Yeah, well, it’s only a couple ticks away from the old, uh … so come on.
Cocks exits swiftly down the stairs, as Big Ben begins to strike.
Brief sound bites of the February 1974 general election as in the dimly lit Commons Chamber the Members chorus take their seats: ‘Tories predicted victory’ – ‘Exit polls suggest a tight race’ – ‘Margaret Thatcher discounting the Liberals, preferring two party-politics’ – ‘First hung parliament in half a century’ – ‘The “squatter in Downing Street”’ – Dimbleby chasing St John Stevas: ‘Will Tories do deal with Liberals?’ – No deal – ‘Labour form a minority government’.