Supreme Importance

The Prime Minister's office in The Residence, Topstad, is always a hub of activity. In theory, the PM can just lock the door, but in fact, most of the time the door is wide open, and anyone can wander in. And everyone does. On this occasion, at nearly nine o-clock on a Thursday evening, someone didn't so much wander in as storm in. The door flew open so hard it nearly broke the antique door frame. The man who entered was red-faced, and holding a folder. His first words were not ones you'd broadcast. "F**king Tories!" he blasted. There was a polite pause. Without looking up from her work, the PM muttered "not since college." "What?" "Sorry," said the Prime Minister of Georgeland, "I thought you were asking a question." The intruder paused, and then deflated slightly. "I take it," said Mrs. Parker, "that the Opposition have annoyed you?" "Bunch of f**cks," replied the man. It was enough to answer the question. Parker sighed. She'd been signing documents - she put the pen down, folded her hands on the desk and looked her chief of staff in the eye. "Sharif?" she asked. He nodded. "The clowns on the Judicial Committee have moved a motion," said Bill Farmer, for that was his name, "that all proceedings of the Committee be scheduled for three in the morning on alternate Saturdays. Then another Tory opened the issue for debate. Each Tory - that's all seven of them - is going to speak for an hour or more on the topic. And they can do it all again if they want. F**ckers!" Parker frowned. "Delaying tactics." "Yes," replied Bill. "They don't have the numbers to knock back Sharif in Parliament so they'll hold the nomination up in committee. Again." "Why do we have to go through this every time we nominate a judge?" asked Parker, wearily. "We had all this with Fitzpatrick..." "...and we lost that one," added Farmer, bitterly. "Yes...and my predecessor went through it with Seeyal and...Ray as well, I think. Why the hell can't they just vote for the bloody judge?" Bill sat down, or rather plonked down, on the PM's couch. "With Fitzpatrick they maybe had a point," he said. He'd been burned badly on that deal - everyone had known appointing Fitzpatrick, who was clearly partisan, was a bad move but he'd done it anyway. It was amazing he'd kept his job - staff had been fired before for less. "But with Sharif it's bleeding obvious," he said. "She's a Muslim. It's racism, pure and simple." Of course it was racism. That was the point. Parker had known that. Farmer had known that. Appoint a Muslim judge and dare the Tories to oppose it. But, of course, they opposed it anyway. It was frustrating, even though they'd known it was going to happen. Oh, the Tories wouldn't say it was because she was a Muslim. They'd say she was partisan, or that there were issues of legality - but nobody would believe them. And the trouble was that that didn't matter. The people who didn't care that the nominee for a vacant seat on the Supreme Court of Georgeland was an Islamic woman wouldn't vote Tory anyway, and the people that did care would only vote harder if the Tories blocked her appointment. The really stupid thing was that they couldn't block the appointment outright. They needed a Senate majority, which they didn't have. Unfortunately, Parker didn't have one either. That left the Alliance, which would never vote to reject a candidate so obviously qualified. Parker frowned again, and stared out the window. It would have been nice if there'd been a view of the city, but all there was was the rose garden outside, illuminated by the old-style lamp posts. One of the Parker dogs, Willy, was out there now, staring stupidly at Parker through the French doors. She opened it and let the Golden Retriever inside - without a sound, Willy headed for the fireplace and sat in front of it. Parker turned back. "Is Bonnie outside?" "No, she went home," said Bill. "Why?" "I need two cups of coffee," said Parker. "Why two?" "It's time to end this. Get me the Leader of the Opposition." "He won't like being summoned, Prime Minister," said Bill. "I don't care. Get his arse here in half an hour."

TO BE CONTINUED