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mymetalphantomSince I posted part one yesterday I thought I should post the next bit as well, seeing as it rounds the thing off. Also you get a bonus little ficlet that I don't even recall writing, this time from Urquhart's POV and *gasp* written in first person! I thought at first that maybe it isn't mine but all the familiar hallmarks are there and it fits into the set.
I'm very amused by my rather obvious love affair with Richard III!
Part Two - “And is it Thus?”
The Urquhart take over had gone without a hitch. Urquhart, being no ineffectual Collingridge had sacked practically all the old Cabinet, replacing them with sound, loyal, true Tories, including Stamper himself who had played no meagre part in getting his boss this far. He wasn’t a Cabinet Minister yet, merely the Chief Whip, but he got to sit amongst them during Cabinet meetings and study them coldly while they worked; sizing them up. Measuring them for their coffins (metaphorically speaking of course).
The only Cabinet MP he disagreed with Urquhart about was Dick Caule from the centre left. Urquhart assured his protégé that Caule, although admittedly a pain in the arse, was good for the Government’s reputation.
“We have to be careful not to come across too right wing, Tim,” Francis had said and Stamper understood. He knew how politics worked. Caule appeased the moderate voters with their white, liberal guilt and anyway he was much safer working for Urquhart rather than against him. He was a conceited git though who cared far too much about his appearance. He was the kind of flashy, vain, self satisfied prick that made Tim recoil in horror. The sort that the political groupies flocked around, the type that was forever in the glossy magazines talking about clothes rather than policies. Being a lefty was trendy, and Caule was nothing if not trendy. He wouldn’t last and that thought gave Stamper comfort during Cabinet meetings.
The future had begun to look good for Stamper and he wasn’t to know that soon he would find his life unravelling like the stitching on his cheap BHS suits.
The Coronation had been a good thing for the Government at first. As sad as it was to lose a Queen who had been so compliant with the rules of the rigid British constitution, the Coronation would ensure that the entire country entered into a “party spirit”. While everyone was celebrating how great it was to be British, conveniently forgetting the country’s bloody history and present problems, they were not paying attention to what the Government was up to. They had a huge list of controversial policies they were going to try and slip under the net while everyone was still singing “Land of Hope and Glory”.
Yet the new King had wasted no time in pissing on their parade. Urquhart’s cool fury at the King was, at first, a good thing for Stamper, after all it brought about the political demise of Dick Caule. Stamper felt much better not having to look at his silly, smug face during Cabinet meetings. Everyone knew that no politician ever came back from Europe.
The stresses of their respective new jobs had driven Francis and Tim apart but as they raised a glass to Caule’s Strasbourg posting Tim felt the closeness return to their relationship and he felt warm all over as his boss looked affectionately over at him. Any regrets he might have felt were quashed by that overwhelming desire to stay close to Urquhart.
He had even tolerated the infuriating Sarah Harding for a while. The day that he’d first met her at Urquhart’s dinner party he had to admit to feeling less animosity and more curiosity. She was an interesting woman. Pretty and presentable but clever. A fierce defender of the free market. Sarah glowed as she bested him at the dinner table and proved how intelligent she was. It was all very entertaining at first, even when she came to work for Urquhart, but it soon became so very unfunny.
He watched her slow seduction with interest and more than a little amusement. It was fun to watch that strong willed, opinionated woman from the dinner party slowly lose control of herself and her rigid family values. He watched her struggle to tread water in the sea of her own hormones and emotions until she was eventually dragged under by the torrent. She was weak and she wouldn’t last. They never did.
Yet Urquhart got closer to Sarah and drifted away from Stamper and this sudden emptiness in his life gave Tim room for doubt. He found that Urquhart was shutting the door on him, shutting him out. He was rejecting him. He felt as though he were scaling a cliff and just as he reached for a foothold it disappeared, stopping his progress. No, no, no! He felt indignation burn in his chest and he directed his anger at Sarah, who meekly stood between him and his rightful place beside Francis. What right had she? She hadn’t been there from the beginning, when Urquhart was nothing more than a backroom boy with ambition. She hadn’t lied for him, cheated for him. She hadn’t covered up a murder for him. She hadn’t made the sacrifices that Stamper had and she probably wouldn’t be prepared to anyway. Stamper had crushed his own humanity into dust the day he had hidden that tape of Mattie Storin’s death and he had done it all for a good cause. He had done it for Urquhart.
The day Sarah blurted out that she was in love with Francis Tim didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course you love him, he thought bitterly, how could you not? He decided there and then that she needed to know just how costly it was to love Francis Urquhart.
He listened to the tape for the hundredth time as she listened to it for the first. She was crying softly, desperately trying to control her tears and her trembles and he watched her, enchanted by her grief. It was a beautiful thing to break her spirit.
He had still been unsure what he was going to do with the tape after he’d played it to her, but he enjoyed the fact that he and Sarah had their own dirty little secret. A strange, awkward, horrible comradeship built between them as they shared their dangerous secret. Maybe that was enough.
And then there was the proverbial final straw. “I thought Chief Whip again,” Urquhart had said evenly, with something akin to delight shining in his blue eyes. After everything, Urquhart was going to renege on their unspoken pact. Tim felt as though the final foothold ahead of him had been removed leaving him nowhere left to go but down.
Down was not an option! Not after all he’d sacrificed. Urquhart was taking on a King and was winning and perhaps he thought himself invincible because of it. He was going to prove to Urquhart wrong, prove to him that he was not some silly tart he could toss aside when he was finished with him, that Tim Stamper was no longer the callow backbencher he used to be. He wanted to see the surprised look on Urquhart’s face when he turned and saw that his former confidante was holding the knife.
Any remorse Stamper may have felt for betraying Urquhart was soothed away by the satisfaction he knew he would get when Urquhart realised where his arrogance had got him. Just as an added bonus he may even keep Sarah Harding on as his own political advisor. He wondered if her body was part of the package that she offered, but that was another thought for another day.
As Tim Stamper pulled up outside New Scotland Yard he saw his future glowing golden and glorious before his eyes.
*****
“And is it thus? Repays he my deep service with such contempt? Made I him King for this?” (Richard III, Act 4, Scene 2)
"Let it Strike"
What do I get? That question now replays in my mind. It is a simple question but a vulgar one and I have no time for vulgarity, especially not when I am in a bad mood.
I seem to always be in a bad mood these days and it excites me if I’m honest. I cannot bear to sit in serene contentment, watching everything swim casually past me. I am a driver, sitting at the front controlling my own actions and my own destiny. We should control events, Elizabeth has always said and I am in complete agreement with her. I am always at my best when I am at my worst.
Still, my bad mood has made me miserable in recent weeks and the King, "who is as true and just as I am subtle, false and treacherous," as the quote goes, has sorely tested my patience. I don’t understand him! How can I fight effectively against that which I do not understand? My confusion has wrong-footed me and as every tatty rag in the country takes pot shots at my integrity I find myself becoming uncontrollably angry.
And Tim is such an easy target. He is at my side all the time, loyally taking his beatings for any misbehaviour like the best kind of dog. I purposefully surround myself with people less intelligent than myself so that I will always have the upper hand, and for all his quick cunning Tim Stamper is no genius. It is easy to parade over him, to constantly keep him on the back foot by reminding him how inferior he is to me, to quash any desire for rebellion that might simmer behind those enigmatic black eyes.
I do admit to finding his devotion rather attractive. Do not misunderstand me, I’m not talking about any sordid sort of physical desire, but to be hero-worshipped is such a delicious and intoxicating feeling that it is easy to see how people lose their heads over it. To reward such worship I may be tempted to throw out false praise and offer up words of affection; little titbits which he would eagerly lap up.
That sort of thing breeds over-familiarity. If I allow him to get too close I lose the upper hand, so when he asked me that simple question I slapped him down hard. Spare the rod and spoil the child. Let him always remember his place.
*****
Buck: I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind
Of what you promis’d me.
Rich: Well, but what’s o’clock?
Buck: Upon the stroke of ten.
Rich: Well, let it strike!
Buck: Why let it strike?
Rich: Because that like a jack thou keep’st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein today.
(Richard III Act 4, Scene 2)
I'm very amused by my rather obvious love affair with Richard III!
Part Two - “And is it Thus?”
The Urquhart take over had gone without a hitch. Urquhart, being no ineffectual Collingridge had sacked practically all the old Cabinet, replacing them with sound, loyal, true Tories, including Stamper himself who had played no meagre part in getting his boss this far. He wasn’t a Cabinet Minister yet, merely the Chief Whip, but he got to sit amongst them during Cabinet meetings and study them coldly while they worked; sizing them up. Measuring them for their coffins (metaphorically speaking of course).
The only Cabinet MP he disagreed with Urquhart about was Dick Caule from the centre left. Urquhart assured his protégé that Caule, although admittedly a pain in the arse, was good for the Government’s reputation.
“We have to be careful not to come across too right wing, Tim,” Francis had said and Stamper understood. He knew how politics worked. Caule appeased the moderate voters with their white, liberal guilt and anyway he was much safer working for Urquhart rather than against him. He was a conceited git though who cared far too much about his appearance. He was the kind of flashy, vain, self satisfied prick that made Tim recoil in horror. The sort that the political groupies flocked around, the type that was forever in the glossy magazines talking about clothes rather than policies. Being a lefty was trendy, and Caule was nothing if not trendy. He wouldn’t last and that thought gave Stamper comfort during Cabinet meetings.
The future had begun to look good for Stamper and he wasn’t to know that soon he would find his life unravelling like the stitching on his cheap BHS suits.
The Coronation had been a good thing for the Government at first. As sad as it was to lose a Queen who had been so compliant with the rules of the rigid British constitution, the Coronation would ensure that the entire country entered into a “party spirit”. While everyone was celebrating how great it was to be British, conveniently forgetting the country’s bloody history and present problems, they were not paying attention to what the Government was up to. They had a huge list of controversial policies they were going to try and slip under the net while everyone was still singing “Land of Hope and Glory”.
Yet the new King had wasted no time in pissing on their parade. Urquhart’s cool fury at the King was, at first, a good thing for Stamper, after all it brought about the political demise of Dick Caule. Stamper felt much better not having to look at his silly, smug face during Cabinet meetings. Everyone knew that no politician ever came back from Europe.
The stresses of their respective new jobs had driven Francis and Tim apart but as they raised a glass to Caule’s Strasbourg posting Tim felt the closeness return to their relationship and he felt warm all over as his boss looked affectionately over at him. Any regrets he might have felt were quashed by that overwhelming desire to stay close to Urquhart.
He had even tolerated the infuriating Sarah Harding for a while. The day that he’d first met her at Urquhart’s dinner party he had to admit to feeling less animosity and more curiosity. She was an interesting woman. Pretty and presentable but clever. A fierce defender of the free market. Sarah glowed as she bested him at the dinner table and proved how intelligent she was. It was all very entertaining at first, even when she came to work for Urquhart, but it soon became so very unfunny.
He watched her slow seduction with interest and more than a little amusement. It was fun to watch that strong willed, opinionated woman from the dinner party slowly lose control of herself and her rigid family values. He watched her struggle to tread water in the sea of her own hormones and emotions until she was eventually dragged under by the torrent. She was weak and she wouldn’t last. They never did.
Yet Urquhart got closer to Sarah and drifted away from Stamper and this sudden emptiness in his life gave Tim room for doubt. He found that Urquhart was shutting the door on him, shutting him out. He was rejecting him. He felt as though he were scaling a cliff and just as he reached for a foothold it disappeared, stopping his progress. No, no, no! He felt indignation burn in his chest and he directed his anger at Sarah, who meekly stood between him and his rightful place beside Francis. What right had she? She hadn’t been there from the beginning, when Urquhart was nothing more than a backroom boy with ambition. She hadn’t lied for him, cheated for him. She hadn’t covered up a murder for him. She hadn’t made the sacrifices that Stamper had and she probably wouldn’t be prepared to anyway. Stamper had crushed his own humanity into dust the day he had hidden that tape of Mattie Storin’s death and he had done it all for a good cause. He had done it for Urquhart.
The day Sarah blurted out that she was in love with Francis Tim didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course you love him, he thought bitterly, how could you not? He decided there and then that she needed to know just how costly it was to love Francis Urquhart.
He listened to the tape for the hundredth time as she listened to it for the first. She was crying softly, desperately trying to control her tears and her trembles and he watched her, enchanted by her grief. It was a beautiful thing to break her spirit.
He had still been unsure what he was going to do with the tape after he’d played it to her, but he enjoyed the fact that he and Sarah had their own dirty little secret. A strange, awkward, horrible comradeship built between them as they shared their dangerous secret. Maybe that was enough.
And then there was the proverbial final straw. “I thought Chief Whip again,” Urquhart had said evenly, with something akin to delight shining in his blue eyes. After everything, Urquhart was going to renege on their unspoken pact. Tim felt as though the final foothold ahead of him had been removed leaving him nowhere left to go but down.
Down was not an option! Not after all he’d sacrificed. Urquhart was taking on a King and was winning and perhaps he thought himself invincible because of it. He was going to prove to Urquhart wrong, prove to him that he was not some silly tart he could toss aside when he was finished with him, that Tim Stamper was no longer the callow backbencher he used to be. He wanted to see the surprised look on Urquhart’s face when he turned and saw that his former confidante was holding the knife.
Any remorse Stamper may have felt for betraying Urquhart was soothed away by the satisfaction he knew he would get when Urquhart realised where his arrogance had got him. Just as an added bonus he may even keep Sarah Harding on as his own political advisor. He wondered if her body was part of the package that she offered, but that was another thought for another day.
As Tim Stamper pulled up outside New Scotland Yard he saw his future glowing golden and glorious before his eyes.
“And is it thus? Repays he my deep service with such contempt? Made I him King for this?” (Richard III, Act 4, Scene 2)
"Let it Strike"
What do I get? That question now replays in my mind. It is a simple question but a vulgar one and I have no time for vulgarity, especially not when I am in a bad mood.
I seem to always be in a bad mood these days and it excites me if I’m honest. I cannot bear to sit in serene contentment, watching everything swim casually past me. I am a driver, sitting at the front controlling my own actions and my own destiny. We should control events, Elizabeth has always said and I am in complete agreement with her. I am always at my best when I am at my worst.
Still, my bad mood has made me miserable in recent weeks and the King, "who is as true and just as I am subtle, false and treacherous," as the quote goes, has sorely tested my patience. I don’t understand him! How can I fight effectively against that which I do not understand? My confusion has wrong-footed me and as every tatty rag in the country takes pot shots at my integrity I find myself becoming uncontrollably angry.
And Tim is such an easy target. He is at my side all the time, loyally taking his beatings for any misbehaviour like the best kind of dog. I purposefully surround myself with people less intelligent than myself so that I will always have the upper hand, and for all his quick cunning Tim Stamper is no genius. It is easy to parade over him, to constantly keep him on the back foot by reminding him how inferior he is to me, to quash any desire for rebellion that might simmer behind those enigmatic black eyes.
I do admit to finding his devotion rather attractive. Do not misunderstand me, I’m not talking about any sordid sort of physical desire, but to be hero-worshipped is such a delicious and intoxicating feeling that it is easy to see how people lose their heads over it. To reward such worship I may be tempted to throw out false praise and offer up words of affection; little titbits which he would eagerly lap up.
That sort of thing breeds over-familiarity. If I allow him to get too close I lose the upper hand, so when he asked me that simple question I slapped him down hard. Spare the rod and spoil the child. Let him always remember his place.
Buck: I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind
Of what you promis’d me.
Rich: Well, but what’s o’clock?
Buck: Upon the stroke of ten.
Rich: Well, let it strike!
Buck: Why let it strike?
Rich: Because that like a jack thou keep’st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein today.
(Richard III Act 4, Scene 2)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-11 11:28 pm (UTC)The future had begun to look good for Stamper and he wasn’t to know that soon he would find his life unravelling like the stitching on his cheap BHS suits.
Oh, squee. This line is just fantastic, and the metaphor is multi-layered and awesome. It will probably be even awesomer when I ask this question: what does BHS stand for?
he felt warm all over as his boss looked affectionately over at him
Baww, poor little bastard's in for a buttload of awful.
She hadn’t lied for him, cheated for him.
Oooh, yes. These are significant things for him after all.
Stamper had crushed his own humanity into dust the day he had hidden that tape of Mattie Storin’s death and he had done it all for a good cause. He had done it for Urquhart.
*bounces* Oh, he did, and this is SO WONDERFUL.
It was a beautiful thing to break her spirit.
He's so bad, and I love him so hard. It's so telling that this is his punishment for her.
He wanted to see the surprised look on Urquhart’s face when he turned and saw that his former confidante was holding the knife.
Ow o_o Oh man.
As Tim Stamper pulled up outside New Scotland Yard he saw his future glowing golden and glorious before his eyes.
*whimper*
To reward such worship I may be tempted to throw out false praise and offer up words of affection; little titbits which he would eagerly lap up.
SO BAD. But you've got his inner workings down, and it's fascinating.
Your RIII-ness makes me squee like you wouldn't believe. <3 <3 The parallel is just so GOOD!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-12 02:20 pm (UTC)Sorry, it's British Home Stores. They sell clothes and accessories and home furniture and the like. They're reasonably priced and lower middle class people buy their stuff there, but it's the sort of place that Urquhart would never be seen dead in. It's mentioned in the book (TPtK) that Stamper wears BHS suits and it's a thing that really stuck with me. It's a very simple way of explaining to the British reader the extent of the class difference. Urquhart is Saville Row, Stamper is BHS.
It's so telling that this is his punishment for her.
Yes, definitely, and so effective! She's pretty much a wreck after that incident. I should feel sorry for her, but I really don't.
If I remember correctly I think that fic originally ended by actually explaining the bomb going off, but then I changed my mind and thought it was sort of more tragic ending like that.
Your RIII-ness makes me squee like you wouldn't believe
Dude, I was weird teenager! I mean, I'm a weird adult as well, but being a weird teenager is much more embarrassing.
I remember reading the HoC series of books when I was about 12 or 13 and my English teacher was like "OMG, have you seen the programmes too!?" and I was like "OMG yes!" and my classmates were all O_o
*sigh* Happy days :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-12 11:29 pm (UTC)Thanks for the BHS explanation! That's a really awesome detail, and a good thing to use here.
If I remember correctly I think that fic originally ended by actually explaining the bomb going off, but then I changed my mind and thought it was sort of more tragic ending like that.
It WAS, zomg. Seriously, so good.