MANICHAEAN
02-03-2015, 04:04 AM
The British Prime Minister.
"The European Community is being run in a thoroughly un-British way," exclaimed Prime Minister Cameroon to the Cabinet Permanent Under Secretary, Sir Charles Duff.
"I blame the French. What is it about those people that they are so intransigent in EU negotiations. Their values are all wrong. It's almost as if it is unthinkable for a Frenchman to arrive at middle age without having achieved a dose of syphilis and the Croix de le Légion d' honneur".
The PUS stood trimming and comporting himself before the PM with a solicitude, which was chiefly benevolent. Duff's advocacy was crucial. He was one of those good-looking, grand-mannered officials who could exercise great influence once he had gained trust, but was realistic enough to look upon a certain mass of disappointment as the natural preface to all political realizations.
"We must maintain an element of practicality in this PM. After all, if it is the agricultural policy that we are specifically referring to, we all know how the French farmers can bring down their government if they see their subsidies being encroached upon."
"Harrumph," from the PM. "It's amazing Charles how the word practical is nearly always the last refuge for" ignore the problem," but let's move on. What’s this morning’s status with the US?"
"Well PM, President Obama has got his hands full as you are aware. If criticism is to be made, the infighting in Washington with the Senate is just as acrimonious as what you have just experienced after returning from Brussels."
"Never criticize the Americans Charles. They have the best political taste that money can buy."
Both men smiled.
"What about the Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party? Can never remember, nor pronounce his name."
"Xi Jinping is his name PM, pronounced phonetically I am told as "Shee."
"What's he like, character and all that? Any assessments yet?"
"I'm told PM, from diplomatic sources and from those that have met him, that he is a man of strong oriental traits of character with unshakable assurance and control whose courtesy in no way hides from us an implacable ruthlessness. You should be able to hit it off with him no doubt".
The PM looked at Sir Charles Duff with a mild indication that he did not like his manners and the PUS reverted to being a mercer of politeness and superfluous aspirates; yet thinking inwardly that no matter how great ones triumphs or how tragic ones defeats, that approximately one billion Chinese people couldn't care less.
The PM comported himself more by pulling on his shirt sleeves.
"You know Charles, the Rubicon, was a very unimpressive stream to look at".
He said this strangely enough with an assurance of one intimately associated with the tributary in question.
"It's significance lies entirely in certain invisible conditions. I've a feeling with China that it's a metaphorical waterway crossing, that we as a nation, would do well to be prepared for. The Chinese are already flexing their muscles with our ally Japan and likewise being difficult with the Philippine Government in the South China Seas. I think it prudent that the Home Secretary and the Security Services produce an update brief on the status quo."
The PUM having nodded and agreeing to have it executed, the daily briefing then broke up. No 10 Downing Street settled down to its daily routine of; the ringing of telephones, subdued conversations and non-stop comings and goings, with doors throughout the building opening and shutting furtively as if in a bedroom farce.
Cameroon sat quietly pleased with his initiative regards the Chinese. It would no doubt earn him credit with Obama for pro-active thinking, and even miff French President Hollande along with that European lot. Where he had to be circumspect was in the security aspects, for intelligence was the last taboo of British politics. There was a bizarre requirement that it must never be mentioned officially, akin to the Victorian belief that civilized life might crumble if human procreation were mentioned in public.
In Britain the activities of the intelligence and security services had always been regarded in much the same light as intra-marital sex. Everyone knew that it went on and was quite content that it should, but to speak, write or ask questions about it was regarded as extremely bad form. So far as official government policy was concerned, the British security and intelligence services did not exist. Enemy agents were found under gooseberry bushes and intelligence was brought by the storks. If the PM was ever questioned in the House on security matters, his answers were invariably expected to be uniformly uninformative.
"The European Community is being run in a thoroughly un-British way," exclaimed Prime Minister Cameroon to the Cabinet Permanent Under Secretary, Sir Charles Duff.
"I blame the French. What is it about those people that they are so intransigent in EU negotiations. Their values are all wrong. It's almost as if it is unthinkable for a Frenchman to arrive at middle age without having achieved a dose of syphilis and the Croix de le Légion d' honneur".
The PUS stood trimming and comporting himself before the PM with a solicitude, which was chiefly benevolent. Duff's advocacy was crucial. He was one of those good-looking, grand-mannered officials who could exercise great influence once he had gained trust, but was realistic enough to look upon a certain mass of disappointment as the natural preface to all political realizations.
"We must maintain an element of practicality in this PM. After all, if it is the agricultural policy that we are specifically referring to, we all know how the French farmers can bring down their government if they see their subsidies being encroached upon."
"Harrumph," from the PM. "It's amazing Charles how the word practical is nearly always the last refuge for" ignore the problem," but let's move on. What’s this morning’s status with the US?"
"Well PM, President Obama has got his hands full as you are aware. If criticism is to be made, the infighting in Washington with the Senate is just as acrimonious as what you have just experienced after returning from Brussels."
"Never criticize the Americans Charles. They have the best political taste that money can buy."
Both men smiled.
"What about the Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party? Can never remember, nor pronounce his name."
"Xi Jinping is his name PM, pronounced phonetically I am told as "Shee."
"What's he like, character and all that? Any assessments yet?"
"I'm told PM, from diplomatic sources and from those that have met him, that he is a man of strong oriental traits of character with unshakable assurance and control whose courtesy in no way hides from us an implacable ruthlessness. You should be able to hit it off with him no doubt".
The PM looked at Sir Charles Duff with a mild indication that he did not like his manners and the PUS reverted to being a mercer of politeness and superfluous aspirates; yet thinking inwardly that no matter how great ones triumphs or how tragic ones defeats, that approximately one billion Chinese people couldn't care less.
The PM comported himself more by pulling on his shirt sleeves.
"You know Charles, the Rubicon, was a very unimpressive stream to look at".
He said this strangely enough with an assurance of one intimately associated with the tributary in question.
"It's significance lies entirely in certain invisible conditions. I've a feeling with China that it's a metaphorical waterway crossing, that we as a nation, would do well to be prepared for. The Chinese are already flexing their muscles with our ally Japan and likewise being difficult with the Philippine Government in the South China Seas. I think it prudent that the Home Secretary and the Security Services produce an update brief on the status quo."
The PUM having nodded and agreeing to have it executed, the daily briefing then broke up. No 10 Downing Street settled down to its daily routine of; the ringing of telephones, subdued conversations and non-stop comings and goings, with doors throughout the building opening and shutting furtively as if in a bedroom farce.
Cameroon sat quietly pleased with his initiative regards the Chinese. It would no doubt earn him credit with Obama for pro-active thinking, and even miff French President Hollande along with that European lot. Where he had to be circumspect was in the security aspects, for intelligence was the last taboo of British politics. There was a bizarre requirement that it must never be mentioned officially, akin to the Victorian belief that civilized life might crumble if human procreation were mentioned in public.
In Britain the activities of the intelligence and security services had always been regarded in much the same light as intra-marital sex. Everyone knew that it went on and was quite content that it should, but to speak, write or ask questions about it was regarded as extremely bad form. So far as official government policy was concerned, the British security and intelligence services did not exist. Enemy agents were found under gooseberry bushes and intelligence was brought by the storks. If the PM was ever questioned in the House on security matters, his answers were invariably expected to be uniformly uninformative.