INSIDE WESTMINSTER: TALES OF HUBRIS AND BETRAYAL
9
WHERE'S POTTY?
Mandy and Potty fell into their seats on the aeroplane. Never had they been more glad than when the steward offered them a glass of champagne which they knocked back in seconds.
'That was a near miss.'
'Funny but I never actually think I saw one. Usually can spot them on the horizon,' said Potty as he stuffed his mouth full of peanuts.
'No, I'm sure I saw one lurking by the ladies' loo. Anyway, crisis averted,' chirruped Mandy, keen to change the subject.
She'd meticulously planned her departure from Juan, temporary they'd agreed, as he was as keen to get more of her as she was of him.
He'd been able to bring forward a meeting with the Guards' Polo Team fixtures manager in London so they only had to wait a week before they could resume their matchless sex. Mandy really had fallen for this exotic and charismatic man and didn't know how she was going to survive until their next wonderful night of sex.
Fortunately, Potty seemed to have forgotten about his proposal and Mandy certainly wasn't going to remind him. His mind was already whirring as to how to make the most of the chaos at Westminster. He was hard-wired to ruthlessly exploit any situation and had always managed to come out on top.
'Was he still in with a leadership chance?'
That was the question he couldn't get out of his head. And, with chaos reigning, everything was up for grabs.
In his opinion, so many of his colleagues had quite frankly 'screwed themselves over' and deserved what they got. Even he was staggered at the threats thrown about, couldn't some of them be taken to court or, at least, face the fury of a disciplinary hearing. And this, in the few vital weeks before the Brexit deal was finalised.
Politics was certainly not the gentlemen's game it once had been. Was all this masculine posturing for the sake of impressing the females in the audience. He sometimes wondered, though most female politicians weren't exactly his cup of tea. Too butch or school ma'am-ish was his conclusion.
No, Mandy was just about right: intelligent, but not too much so; sexily dressed on all occasions – definitely not a flat shoe or belted cardigan in her wardrobe – so that men's heads always turned; flirty but not to a worrying level.
He could have gone on endlessly about what attracted him to Mandy but his reverie was broken by a nudge from Mandy.
'Have you seen the latest headlines? It looks like it's going to reach 48 by close of play.'
Potty nearly jumped out of his seat. His chance to be top dog was upon him. He'd better start thinking seriously about Brexit. Couldn't he come up with some wheeze that would just dazzle everyone by its sheer brilliance?
Potty was so entranced by his own self importance that he hadn't realised that the average voter couldn't stand his shallow showmanship, let alone his morals.
What he didn't know was that Sophia had been waging her own campaign to discredit Potty and to reveal his true nature to the nation. And she had tons of evidence to back up her attacks.
No, Potty had no idea what was ahead of him back in the Westminster bubble.