Written on 16 February 2019
“Sir, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation.” His most loyal aide, Seb, said dramatically.
The minister narrowed his eyes at him. “How long have you been waiting to say that? Your entire political career? Jesus, Seb, this isn't an American action movie. And I understand perfectly what's going on.” the minister got up from his desk and opened the curtains. The water was five stories high now. Most of Oxford street was still just about visible, but it wouldn't be for much longer. They were fine, though in the penthouse of centre point with a helicopter on the way.
Still, even from up here, the minister could see the bodies floating in the water. Hundreds of them, dotted amongst the debris and wreckage. It was, however, easier to distance himself from the disaster when he was literally distant from it.
“Sir, they are going to kill you. The people who have taken over Alexandra Palace have declared themselves as the authority, they've called for your immediate execution.” Seb said, pleadingly. The minister turned away from the carnage.
“By the time they find out where I am I'll be in a helicopter on the way to the royal yacht, and they won't be able to touch me. And, if they happen to discover us before then, as far as I know I am the most senior politician still in Britain. That means the army does what I say.” Seb looked frightened, still. The minister placed a hand on his shoulder “Seb, the helicopter will be here any minute. We'll be fine.”
A young orderly entered the room, which was becoming increasingly quiet as the gathered VIP's boarded their helicopters to be whisked away.
“Sir, your helicopter is next.” he said. He looked rather put out, like he was angry with the minister. The minister, ever the politician, decided to try and fix his reputation on the fly.
“What's your name, sir?”
“Colin, sir.”
“A fantastic name. Strong. British. Colin, would you like to accompany Seb and I to the Royal Yacht?” the young man grinned.
“Can my sister come too? She's on her way here now. She's been hauled up at St Pancras.” The minister hadn't bargained for this.
“Oh no, I don't want to. . .” He hesitated. “The problem is, Colin, the Prime Minister is waiting for us in the Royal Yacht. We really can't wait a minute longer.” The young man didn't respond. He just scowled and walked out the room, fists clenched.
“Maybe we should wait on the roof.” Seb said, eyeing the back of the young man. The minister agreed. He instructed Seb to grab his case.
It was raining again. The same tropical downpours that had caused all this mayhem. The minister wrapped his coat tighter around him.
“Where is it?” he shouted at Seb over the rain. The helicopter was nowhere to be seen.
“Maybe the rain has delayed it.” Seb said, looking round at the door.
Just then, five men walked through it, led by the young man Colin. He pointed at the minister, and they all advanced.
“Bloody hell.” The Minister said, hiding behind Seb. The men grabbed Seb and moved him roughly aside. The minister decided to play ignorant.
“Hi, Colin was it? Have you changed your mind about the helicopter?”
“I have, minister. I've decided the helicopter belongs to the people now.” The men were surrounding him, blocking his exit.
“Ah, yes.” The minister said. “But I am a representative, elected by the people.” He looked over at Seb. He was still lying on the ground, the rain soaking his suit. “Also, I have money, I. . .” The men grabbed him, and the air was filled with screams as they carried the minister to the side of the roof, as the rain continued to drive.
The poor minister. He never was very good at understanding the gravity of the situation.