Chapter 9

 

No.4 A Man of The People! 

    Elections….in the village, how likely is that?

    In his office in the Green Dome, the tall dark-haired figure of No.2 sat in his black global chair. Pictured on the wall screen was No.4 in his cottage. Suddenly the red telephone began to bleep, and when he didn’t answer it straight away the bleeping seemed to become impatient! Leaning forward he picked up the receiver.
    “Number 2 here………….yes sir I did realize that my term in office is coming to an end……….well thank you sir, it’s kind of you to say so………have I thought about what sir?............No, I have to admit I had not considered that possibility, I thought I would simply be leaving at the end of my term in office……that was never a consideration………….so I am to be co-opted onto the Town Council, well thank you sir. Do you have any idea who is to be my successor?...............Well if I may suggest a new candidate, No.2 said looking at the man pictured on the wall screen, Number 4 would make an excellent candidate………..what do I mean? Well it would hardly be seemly if a new Number 2 was simply appointed. We could make a spectacle of it…………yes an election……….be seeing you!”
    No.2 replaced the receiver, and sat back in his chair studying the man pictured on the wall screen, he might well be his only hope.

    No.4 emerged from the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand as the telephone began to bleep, he stood for a moment or two wondering whether he should answer it or just let it bleep. Putting the cup down on the coffee table he picked up his piped blazer and put it on. Then went to the telephone and picked up the receiver.
    “Is your number 4?” asked the operator.
    “You must know it is, since you called me!”
    “I have a call for you from Number 2.”
    No.4 put down the receiver.
    The black telephone began to bleep again; he picked up the receiver and put it down again. Then No.4 spun round as the door bell rang, his cottage doesn’t have a doorbell! The door opened automatically, and the figure of No.2 stood framed in the doorway. He had the old college scarf about his shoulders, and carried a shooting stick. As well as his regular badge, he wore a white rosette with the number 2 on the centre disc.
    “Good morning, since you’re not answering the telephone this morning, I thought I would call round. Mind if I come in?”
    “I’d rather you………”
    “Good. I take it I’m too late for breakfast.”
    “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

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    “Really, then I’m just in time.”
    A housemaid dressed in a black dress, white frilly apron, and white sailor’s cap followed No.2 into the cottage, and carried a breakfast tray through into the kitchen.
    “What’s all this in aid of?”
    “It’s merely a neighbourly gesture.”
    The housemaid set the breakfast things out onto a worktop.
    “Thank you my dear” No.2 said.
    The house maid curtsied and left the cottage.
    No.2 made himself at home. Taking a cup he added milk and sugar, and poured tea from the teapot, he looked at No.4 “Aren’t you going to eat your breakfast before it gets cold?”
    No.4 looked at his visitor sitting down on a stool, and then sat down opposite him. He removed the metal dish cover, and looked down at the piece of quiche with a poached egg on it.
    “French.”
    “International” No.2 replied and enquired if it was nicely done.
    No.4 picked up a fork and with the edge cut a piece of quiche and put it in his mouth “It’s not bad.”
    There was a sudden but quite fanfare from a black loudspeaker, this was followed by the voice of village radio.

    “Good morning, and congratulations on yet another day. The weather will be fine and dry, a little overcast, but it will remain dry enjoy your day.
    “That’s a piece of luck” No.2 said buttering a piece of toast.
    “Luck?” No.4 asked offering No.2 the jam.
    “Not marmalade?”
    “Jam on toast, that’s continental.”
    “Not International?”
    “Same thing surely.”
    No.2 smiled “At least we’ll have good weather for it.”
    No.4 took another mouthful of egg and quiche “Good weather for what?”
    “Oh you haven’t heard?”
    “Heard what?”
    “We begin our election campaign today.”
    “You jest of course.”
    “By no means, we hold an election every twelve months, every citizen has a choice.”
    “What the people elected you?”
    “Yeeessss. And there’s the rub.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s been a one-sided affair for too long, and that’s bad for morale. The people here don’t seem to appreciate the worth in free elections. They think it’s a game.”
    “Doesn’t everyone vote for a dictator?”

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    “I suspect their resistance is low. Frankly we need a candidate the people can believe in.”
    “I wish you luck in finding one.”
    “Don’t be like that.”
    “What you mean me?”
    “My dear fellow you are just the sort of candidate the people need.”
    “You want me, to stand in an election against you?”
    “Why not?”
    “You’re a funny man.”
    “Do you see me laughing?”
    “That’s all well and good, but what happens if I win?”
    “You’ll be the boss.”
    “I thought that was Number 1!”
    “If you win, then Number 1 will make himself known to you”
    “And if I lose?”
    “What have you to lose?”
    “If I stand for election against you and win, I’ll be the new Number 2?”
    “Yes.”
    “You expect me to believe that?”
    “You are a citizen here as much as anyone; it’s your democratic right to stand for electoral office.”
    Number 2 munched on his buttered toast studying the man opposite. No.4 finished his breakfast whilst turning the idea over in his mind.
    “Well?”
    “You have a subtle sense of humour.”
    “Of course, humour is the essence of a democratic society.”
    Suddenly another fanfare blared out of the loudspeaker. Outside the Brass band began to play, and the citizens stood waiting on top of the stone bandstand. No.2 crossed through into the lounge, and opening the French window stood on the small balcony waving to the now cheering crowd below.

    “Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, Number 2” the people chanted over and over.
    “It looks like you have a unanimous majority” No.4 said standing next to No.2.

    “Yes, and that’s what is worrying me. Shall we assess the madding crowd?”
    It wasn’t a very glamorous start to the election. They had to go out through the back door to 4 Private where there was no cheering crowd. Then walking across the gravel along the back of the row of terraced cottages, turning right through an arch, along the outside of the Green Dome and out onto the balcony overlooking the street and the cobbled square. Two men in black overcoats and Top Hats with black leather document cases stood in the two arches of the building. Both wore white No.2 rosettes. The people gathered in the street and

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cobbled square below looked up and cheered as No.2 and No.4 stood at the balustrade of the balcony, No.2 gave them a cheery wave and the people chanted.
    “Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, Number 2.”
    Then No.2 held up a hand which silenced the crowd. The butler was on hand to hand No.2 a megaphone through which he addressed the electorate.
    “Good people of our community.”
    “Hoorah” the people shouted.
    “It has to be said that there has been a lack of opposition in the matter of free elections. This is not good for you the people, and our community as a whole. It suggests a lack of will in the people, an acceptance of things as they are, and a reluctance to progress.”
    “Hoorah!”
    “We have here a candidate whose outlook on this community is one of militancy, and individualism.”
    “Hoorah, hoorah.”
    “Let us hope he will realize his duty to this community, by taking up the challenge. It is my pleasure to present to you a recent recruit, Number 4.”
    “Hoorah!”
    No.2 handed No.4 the megaphone, and he stood there looking down on the gathered crowd, who looked up to him expectantly.
    “What do I say?”
    “Say what you like” No.2 told him pinning a black rosette to the lapel of his blazer, on the white centre disc the black number 4.
    No.4 raised the megaphone to his mouth and the people stood waiting with baited breath to hear the candidates opening speech.
    “I don’t know what you and Number 2 and his administration expect of me, but I’m not being railroaded into standing against him in this local election” he announced lowering the megaphone.
    The crowd stood silent, and accusing.
    No.2 leaned over towards his opponent “That’s not the sort of thing these good people want to hear. Give then something they can cheer, tell them what you stand for.”
    No.4 again raised the megaphone to his mouth “My friends, I hope I can call you my friends seeing as we here are all in the same boat!”
    The crowd cheered.
    The moments seemed to drag into minutes before No.4 spoke again “What do I stand for? I stand for freedom, knowledge, and escape!”
    The crowd cheered.
    “That’s it, that’s what to give them” No.2 said quietly and encouragingly.
    “Freedom, the freedom of speech, knowledge the knowledge to know, and escape to escape the confines of democracy in order to bring about change and to progress in the name of the people.”
    This brought about mad cheering from the crowd.

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    “Steady” said No.2 quietly “we don’t want a revolution on our hands!”
    “I stand in the interests of the people, I shall work for the people, because I am of the people. My friends, I stand firm on this electoral husting and promise you change, security of the citizens, and self-sufficiency for this, what could be our fine community. Friends the road to success lies ahead, and the only thing that stands between us and success is defeat!” No.4 announced to the crowd, although he had no idea where the words had come from.
    “Hoorah,” cheered the crowd.
    No.2 took back the megaphone “Good people, you have heard the words of our new friend, he wishes to bring about change, security, and self-sufficiency. But does he know what freedom and knowledge can do to a community such as ours? He may tell you that he is your fiend, but he is a recent new recruit, new to our ways. He lacks the administrative experience to manipulate such a community as ours. His desire maybe genuine, but his ability is questionable. Self-sufficiency comes at a price, and security, have I not maintained the security of our community in keeping you all safe? If elected our friend here would be a new broom and in time would sweep away the old values of this community. Is that what you want, revolution. Vote for me, and you’ll receive solace.
    The crowed cheered, and cheered, and cheered, and the Brass Band began to play in celebration.
    “Come with me” No.2 said.
    They left the balcony and descended the steps to the road where a Mini-Moke stood in the road amid the cheering crowd. At the back of the Moke was a large placard with No.2’s face upon it, along with the words “Vote for No.2.” No.2 made his way through the madding crowd, it seemed everyone wanted to shake his hand, and eventually he stepped into the Mini-Moke.
   “Be seeing you” No.2 said through the megaphone, and the Mini-Moke was driven off with some people chasing after, while others of the electorate stood cheering. Suddenly a second Mini-Moke pulled up in the road behind No.4 who stood in the middle of the road. He turned round and looked at the vehicle.
   “Get in” said the driver, a young blonde woman in a white sailor’s cap.
   No.4 stood there for a moment or two, looking at the larger than life image of himself on a placard fixed to the back of the Moke. “Vote for 4” said the text on the placard. He made his way through the crowd towards the vehicle.
    “When did that happen? he shouted at the driver, pointing at the placard.
    “Get in the driver told him.”
    He climbed into the front passenger seat, and the citizens stood cheering as the taxi was driven away.

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   “Where are we going?” he asked the driver.
   “I’ll take you home” she said.
   “But my cottage is just over there!” he told her.
   “Yes, but if we take the scenic route it will get your face shown around the village, we want people to get used to seeing it, that way they’ll vote for you” the driver said pinning a white No.4 rosette to her candy striped jersey.
   The taxi meandered through the street and paths of the village, stopping every so often so that No.4 could engage with members of the electorate, who once they had driven away pinned black No.4 rosettes to their chests.

 

    The next day No.2 sat in his office watching the wall screen and views of No.4 talking to people, busy canvassing for votes in the Piazza, at the café, visiting the senior citizens at the Old People’s Home, and generally throwing himself into the campaign now he saw the support and the possibility that he would actually win the election!

   The pair of steel doors opened and the butler pushed a tea trolley through the open doors, down the ramp and across the floor to the desk. Then set a tea tray on the desk, pouring out a cup of tea for his master, and presenting a plate of biscuits.

    “It’s not going too bad at all” No.2 said picking up a filled cup and saucer.
    The butler looked at his master saying nothing.
    “Not a landslide just yet, but I feel the people will be surely to re-elect me.”
   Again the butler kept his silence.
   No.2 sipped his tea still watching the screen, as No.4 attempted to ingratiate himself with the people.

    No.4 returned to his cottage to see a Mini-Moke parked outside, and the blonde haired driver sat behind the wheel. He went into his cottage just as the telephone began to bleep, he picked up the receiver.
    “God morning” said No.2, I take it your driver has arrived.”
    “Yes she’s sat out side in the Moke.”
    “You didn’t ask her in?”
    “No, why should I?”
    “She’s perfectly charming my dear chap.”
    “What’s next?” 4 asked in determined way.
    “Your transport will be available to you during the election period.”
    “That’s nice.”
    “She will drive you to the Town Hall.”
    “What for?”
    “To observe the disillusionment of the town council in half an hour.”
    “I see” and he put the receiver down.

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    Outside the members of the press, being 113, and his photographic colleague No.113b.
    “The press, what do you want?”
    His driver was standing in readiness by the Mini-Moke “A picture and an interview would be my guess” she told him.
    “Wh…what do I say?”
    “You’ll think of something.”
    No.113b took a photograph of the candidate.
    No.113 stepped forward with notebook and pencil at the ready.
    “Can we have a statement Number 4?”
    “Well I don’t know.”
    “Well what is your home policy?”
    “Look this way” said 113b, click went his camera.
    “Well I intend to bring changes, if there is to be progress there must be change and improvements in our exports.”
    “No comment” the reporter wrote “What about your foreign policy?”
    “We will import less, and rely more on self-sufficiency!”
    “No comment” said the reporter writing the same in his notebook.
    “Tell me Number 4, how do you feel about your opponent?”
    “Smile” said 113b, and click went his camera.
    “I’m sure he will be an excellent opponent, I look forward to giving him a run for his money!”
    “No comment” wrote the reporter “And just one more question, what do you think of life and death?”
    “Well if you can hear the scream and still feel the pain you’re alive, if not then you’re dead!”
    “No comment! Thank you Number 4.”
    “One final picture, look this way” click “thank you Number 4 be seeing you.”
    And with that the reporter and photographer went on their way.

    “Well that went well” his driver said “Now we had best be on our way.”
    “There’s plenty of time” he told her.
    “It’s always later than one thinks” she told him.
    He looked at his face on a large placard attached to the back of

the Mini-Moke, he read the words “Vote for No.4” it made him hesitate, the driver started the engine.
    “Get in” she told him.
    “Why, when we could easily walk to the Town Hall.”
    “Walk, why walk when we can ride?” was the reply.
    “It’s a beautiful morning, we should enjoy it.”
    “You have important business at the Town Hall in less than twenty minutes” the driver reminded him.
    He wasn’t sure, he wasn’t sure at all. He suddenly had the feeling it wasn’t the community No.2 was manipulating, but himself! Slowly he backed away. The driver put the Mini-Moke into first gear and slowly drove after him.

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    She told him he was being ridiculous she told him “Number 2 will be very disappointed.”
    His manner was defiant “Then he’ll have to be disappointed” he told her.
    “It’s not everyone who is given such an opportunity, and here you are about to throw it away. Don’t you want to help the community, the people, not everyone here is sympathetic you know” she said driving the Moke slowly alongside him.

    He suddenly dodged through an arch and down a set of steps. In frustration the taxi driver had to drive the vehicle round the edge of the woods making her way round and down onto the road. Then back

into the village through two arches, passed the square and there ahead of her the figure of No.4 walking down the road. She sounded the Moke’s two-tone horn. This made No.4 stop and turn around. The driver brought the Mini-Moke to a stop, pedestrians and cyclists looked at the pair as they passed by.
    “I know that” he said “the trick here is trying to find the people you can reply on, can I reply on you?”
    “Yes” she told him, “if only to drive him to the Town Hall!”
    “These people, do they truly care who is Number 2?” he stopped a passer-by “sir, who is Number 2?”
    “W….what do you mean?” the man asked.
    “It’s a simple question; does it matter to you who Number 2 is?”
    “You shouldn’t do that you know.”
    “Do want?”
    “Ask, you never know who might be watching and listening!”
    “You’re afraid?”
    “Yes” the man said and hurried way.
    “It would seem Number 2 rules through fear” he stopped another passer-by, a woman in the early 60’s, blue trilby hat and colourful striped cape “excuse me madam.”
    “Yes young man?” No.36 said.
    He saw the black rosette pinned to her colourful striped cape “I see you’re voting for me.”
    “You and only you” she told him.
    “Why?”
    “Why?”
    “Why are you voting for me?”
    “What an impertinent young man you are!” she told him and went on her way, dropping the white rosette to the ground.
    “What did I do?” he asked the driver.
    “Get in, or we’ll be late” she told him.

    The taxi pulled up at the steps to the Town Hall. No.4 climbed out and stood in the road as the Mini-Moke sped off down the hill. Opposite the Town Hall a man wearing a pink blazer with black piping stood by a curious device. There was a sign at the top ‘Tally Ho’ a handle operated a pair of white rollers, on which were the words in red ‘Opinion Poll.’

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    “Read all about it, get your election addition here” the man said.
    It was at that point that No.4 noticed the badge pinned to the lapel of his blazer 113c, we was also the spitting image of No.113b, his identical twin! He approached the Tally Ho seller, who upon seeing No.4 turned the handle of the dispenser and tore off a copy of the broadsheet for his customer.
    “That thing reminds me of my old mums washing mangle!” he said taking the offered paper.

The Tally Ho

No.4 Man of the People!

by our own reporter

    Your local candidate says he stands for the people because he is of the people, and will govern for the people on behalf of the people. He talks of progress, of knowledge, of freedom, and escape. But what readers of The Tally Ho want to know is can they trust him?
    When interviewed earlier today your local candidate refused to answer any of the questions put to him, “No comment” he said. Why? Doesn’t he know the answers? He expects your vote, but what can the electorate expect from him? He speaks of progress, but is progress such a good thing for a community such as ours? A new broom always sweeps clean. If elected a new No.2 would sweep away the old regime in the name of progress, bringing instability, perhaps even revolution to our community!
   Your adopted local candidate offers knowledge, but what do we know of him? We know what he wants to be, but what was he? What does he like, what does he dislike? What are his policies? Why does he care? Does he care, and how do we know he is not just standing for election in order to get what he can for himself? We know one thing, he believes he can provide every amenity for the comfort of the citizens. That you can enjoy yourselves whether you want to or not, as well as taking part in all manner of activities. There will be prosperity from village exports. Our local candidate also believes that a vote for No.2 is a vote for the old regime if you wish things to remain as they are. Because if things do change they will remain the same. That a vote for No.2 is a vote for the past way of things, and that a vote for No.4 is a vote for progress, the future lies ahead!

    “Calling Number 4, calling Number 4, the town council is now in session” No.2’s voice suddenly announced over the public address system.
   No.4 rolled up the copy of The Tally Ho and turned towards the

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impressive red bricked building of the Town Hall, and approached the steps. No.2 could be heard banging a gavel, and calling the assembly to order.
    “Calling Number 4, calling Number 4” the voice said with the repeated banging of a gavel.
    Slowly he climbed the steps and entered the Town Hall through the arch. There were more steps to his right, climbing these he found himself in a foyer. The foyer was devoid of people, its walls plainly decorated. In the centre a round table with a number of drawers set into it. There were two or three chairs, a large painting over a fireplace. Two almost matching busts set opposite each other in alcoves, and a carved wooden head set high up on a wall. To the left a staircase, to the right a pair of doors, Number 2’s voice instructed No.4 to take the pair of French doors; he did so, and upon opening the doors found himself standing at the top of a steep staircase. He stood there for a few moments, looking down into the orange coloured domed chamber.
    “Good, you’re here at last” No.2 said.
    He was sat in a chair at a curious ‘V’ shaped desk, which was set on a raised dais. Behind him an even higher raised dais with steps of geometric squares and triangles making up the steps on either side. Set on the dais was a chair which could only be described as something from a 1920’s German expressionist film. Its colour was of two shades of grey, although that could have been caused by the light creating shadow. The arms of the chair were narrow and helped make up the legs, while wings of the chair were triangular rising up to a point, as did the back rest. There was an eye set high in the backrest which shone at intervals. Set in the centre of the chamber was a circle of eleven council members, each standing at his or her lectern. And in the centre was a raised disc with an expressionist style rectangle table with a ‘V’ shaped leaf, and a thin steel frame making up the legs also shaped into a ‘V’ at both sides.
   “Come ahead” No.2 said invitingly.
   No.4 slowly descended the staircase the rolled up Tally Ho broadsheet in his hands “What’s this, a meeting of the local Masonic lodge?”
    “You are formally welcomed to this assembly as the potential opposition candidate.”
    “You’re not sitting in the big chair” No.4 observed “perhaps that’s because its reserved for Number 1 the Grand Master, or are you the worshipful master, and Number 1 observes the proceedings via the all seeing eye!”

    “You must play the game, please stand on the centre disc” was No.2’s instruction.

    No.4 descended the final few steps “What game are we playing, only

I’m not sure of the rules?”
    “The rules according to that of the democratic process, these are

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designed for the protection of the citizens. You are a reasonable man, and I’m sure you would not deny the right of proper procedure. I invite you again to stand on the centre disc.”
    No.4 was still making up his mind, then he saw the two “Vote for No.2” and “Vote for No.4” placards, and crossed the floor, eventually taking his place on the disc, putting down the rolled up copy of the broadsheet on the table in front of him.
   “The final resolution of this out-going council is a vote of thanks to Number 4, it is carried unanimously, there is no further business at this time” No.2 announced banging his gavel.
   No.4 stood looking at the members of the local Town Council. They stood at their rostrums like dummies, stiff and stark, unblinking, possibly unfeeling.

    “I have a few questions” No.4 said.
    “I thought you might” No.2 replied.
    “Where did you get these dummies?”
    “I really don’t know, they were here when I took up office” No.2 replied.
    No.4 looked the the eleven members of the council, each staring straight ahead. It was then he noticed that the 2d rostrum stood vacant “Why are each of these rostrums a subdivided 2, are they former No.2’s?”

    “As in my predecessors you mean?”
    “Yes, and where is 2d?”
    “That rostrum stands vacant” No.2 told him.
    “Why?”
    “It happens from time to time.”
    “Is that vacant rostrum meant for me?”
    No.2 turned and looked at the vacant rostrum and in quiet tone said “No, not for you.”
   No.4 turned his attention to the councillors with their blank expressionless faces “What have you all to say for yourselves? Can you speak at all? Have you any feelings? Do you think for yourselves, or are you told what to think, can you think? Who put you all in this Zombie-like state?”
    “Have you finished?”
    “They are nothing more than brainwashed imbeciles!” No.4 shouted.
    “Now let’s not get personal my dear fellow.”
    “I trust you’re not seriously thinking of putting me amongst their number!”
    “Any more questions?”
    “Yes, but I don’t see the point in asking them” No.4 told him.
    “Good, you may go.”
    “Go?”
    “Yes, you’re free to go.”
    “Free to go?”

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 “Yes.”
    “There’s nothing more?”
    “Do you want there to be more?”
    “It’s what I expected.”
    “Then I’m sorry to disappoint you!”
    No.4 didn’t know what to expect as he left the Town Hall, perhaps a cheering crowd, people waving banners enthusiastically and placards proclaiming “Vote for No.4.” As he stood on the steps of the Town Hall the street wasn’t completely empty. He was faced by a small cheering crowd which made him smile, and he reacted to the people, waving, and shaking hands. A Mini-Moke was parked in the street, his driver sat waiting. No.4 made his way through the crowd of people and a man in a pink blazer pushed himself forward, he had a microphone.

    “What do you think of your chances now?” 113b asked.
    “I have every confidence.”
    No.113 held a television camera and pointed it at the candidate.
    “What’s’ this?” No.4 asked “candid camera!”
    “Number 2 says you a worthy opponent” 113b said.
    “That’s very kind of him to say so; I’ll try to give him a run for his money.”
    The taxi pulled away leaving the cheering crowd behind.

    “The community can rest assured that if elected I shall work every hour of the day in the interest of the people. And that anything I can do to maintain a secure community will be my first objective be seeing you” he saluted.
    “That was the lunchtime news on this election day.” a cheery female voice announced “The latest opinion poll suggests that Number 2 is slightly ahead. Stand by for our next election bulletin.”
    A housemaid entered ‘4 private’ carrying a tray.
    “What have you there?” No.4 asked.
    “A light lunch.”
    “I didn’t order that!”
    “No?” the housemaid asked setting out the plate of dainty cucumber sandwiches, cake, and pot of tea.
    “How long have you been here?”
    “Me?”
    “Yes.”
    “In the village? Quite a while as it happens.”
    “So you will have seen these local elections before.”
    “Oh yes, if that’s all sir.”
    “Are you voting for me?”
    “Why do you ask?”
    “It’s a perfectly reasonable question under the circumstances.”
    “What circumstances?”
    “You’re not wearing a rosette.”
 

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  “That’s because I haven’t made my mind up yet, be seeing you.”
    “Be seeing you” he saluted and helped himself to the sandwiches and cake. Pouring himself a cup of tea he drank the hot liquid then the room began to spin, the cup slipped from his hand spilling the remainder of the tea and the cup and saucer lay broken on the floor. And No.4 collapsed into unconsciousness. A man entered the cottage, in the kitchen he rolled up No.4’s left sleeve, from his pocket he took a hypodermic syringe and injected fluid into 4’s arm. Then he struggled with the body as he dragged it into the lounge and laid No.4 on the sofa, then rolling down the sleeve the figure left the cottage.
    Outside the figure took a small square box from his pocket and pressed a button. In the office of the Green Dome No.2 had been waiting for a communication. Suddenly the turquoise telephone began to bleep, he picked up the receiver.
   “Its done?.......You’re sure?.......good.

   That night No.4 had a troubled sleep the election spinning around in his head. The cheering crowd, the hustings, speeches, shaking hands, the people chanting his number over, over, over again repeatedly. No.2 banging his gavel as though he were pulverising No.4, driving him into the ground.

   The next day No.4 found himself addressing the citizens from the Mini-Moke.

   “There are those of this community” No.4 began “who believe we cannot deliver every amenity for the comfort of the citizens. You can all enjoy yourselves, you’ll be able to take part in all manner of activities. There will be prosperity, our exports…….”
    “Just a minute” a voice shouted from the back of the crowd “What exports?”
    “A gentleman wants to know what our exports are.”
    “Go on then” said another man “tell us.”
    No.4 stumbled, his mind racing to find an answer.
    “Well?” a voice shouted from the crowd.
    No.4 just stood there, he tried to think, he tried to speak, but simply stared at the faces in the crowd.
    “Go on then, tell us three things this village ever exported” shouted another.
    No.4 stood dumbstruck, as he had absolutely no idea.
    “One thing, tell us one thing this village has ever exported” an old woman demanded.

    The crowd fell silent and gradually drifted away.
    At that moment No.2 was about to address the electorate from the top of the stone Bandstand. He was accompanied by his manservant, and two Top hat officials from administration.
    “Good people of this community”
    “Hoorah” the crowd shouted.

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    “My opponent is a fresh face, and has an enthusiasm which cannot be denied. Our friend Number 4 has a superb record, he has adapted himself well to our procedure, yet he has no experience whatsoever, and lacks the ability to manipulate such a community as ours.”
    A white Mini-Moke appeared on the scene followed by a small number of No.4’s supporters carrying placards with his face pasted on them. The Moke came to a stop on the other side of the lawn which lay between them and the Bandstand.
    No.4 stood up “Place your trust in Number 2 and it will be a vote for the old regime, if you want things to remain as they are. Because if things do not change they will remain as they are, is that what you want? A vote for 2 is a vote for the past way of things. We know what we have to, we have to progress, the future lies ahead.”
    “Our friend No.4 has a knack of saying the blindingly obvious. He talks but says nothing, he expects your vote, but a vote for 4 is a vote for nothing at all.”
    “Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, we want Number 2, Number 2, 2, 2, 2.” the crowd cheered and waved.

    That night in the Cat and Mouse nightclub No.4 sat seemingly drowning his sorrows, when No.2 came in and sat at his table.
    No.4 looked up from his half empty glass “What do you want?”
    “A drink” and raised his hand to attract a waitress.
    “Yes sir, what can I get you?” the young attractive waitress asked.
    “Whisky” he said.
    “I asked you want do you want?”
    “And I told you. I came in here for a drink.”
    “Then do me a favour and go and sit at another table.”
    “Don’t be like that.”
    The waitress returned carrying a glass on a tray; she set the glass on the table.
    “Drowning your sorrows are you?”
    “You’re having a laugh aren’t you? I’ve been sat drinking at this table for three hours now, and I’m as sober as the moment I first sat down!”
    “That’s because they do not serve alcohol here.”
    “Now you tell me! Is there anywhere I can get a real drink?”
    No.2 shook his head.
    No.4 waved at the waitress “I’d like a drink.”
    “Same again sir?”
    “A real drink, an alcoholic drink!”
    “No alcohol here sir, gin, whisky, vodka looks the same tastes the same….”
    “But it won’t get me as drunk as a Lord! What are you looking at?”
    “Nothing” No.2 replied “I’m just worried.”
    “Worried, worried about what?”
    “Not what, who, I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you if

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you win this election.”
    “No you’re not. You’re just worried about yourself!”
    “Not so. I’m afraid that one day very soon, you will end up standing at that empty lectern.”
    “What amongst those brainwashed imbeciles?”
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me, is that what happens to people like you when their term in office is over?”
    “It all depends on how one quantifies success. If I win the election tomorrow then I go home.”
    “And if not?”
    “As you said yourself, if things do not change they will remain the same” No.2 drained his glass and stood up holding out a hand.
    “What’s that?”
    “May the better man win?”
    “Worried aren’t you?”
    “Yes” he said still offering his hand.
    No.4 offered his own hand and they shook hands.

    The Town Hall acted as a Polling Station, for two hours citizens had come and gone as they cast their vote. “2 for 2, 2 for 2, 2 for 2, 2 for 2.” It was simply done, two Ballet boxes into which people dropped their white or black rosette. The two candidates stood waiting for the final count, not that one would be required. The good citizens of the community voted almost unanimously for No.2, his Ballet box was full to over flowing with white rosettes.
    “I think congratulations are in order, mind you I’ve yet to cast my vote” No.4 said removing his own rosette.
    “I thought it was agreed we would not vote for ourselves?”
    Outside the Town Hall the people had gathered shouting for No.2, we want Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, we want Number 2, Number 2.”
   No.2 and No.4 left the foyer and stood on the steps of the Town Hall, the crowed cheered. No.2 held up his right hand and the crowd fell silent. A Mini-Moke stood waiting in the street to take No.2 to the Green Dome. He climbed aboard sitting in one of the back seats.
    “Get in, I’ll give you a lift” No.2 said.
    No.4 descended the few steps and climbed into the Mini-Moke.
    The taxi moved forward slowly through the silent crowd, and as the taxi sped along the road the crowd behind began to quietly disperse.
    “I’m sorry” No.2 said.
    “Sorry, sorry about what?” 4 asked.
    “Sorry that it had to be you.”
    “It was a set up from the beginning.”

    “I had to win.”
    “To save your own neck you mean.”
    “Perhaps I do. You wouldn’t have wanted me standing there

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amongst those brainwashed imbeciles as you so eloquently put it, would you?”
    “Wouldn’t I?”
    The taxi came to a stop at the steps to the Green Dome.
    “If you fancy a life in politics there’s still a place on the town council” No.2 offered getting out of the taxi.
    No.4 stood in the road “It’s just a game isn’t it? Nothing has changed. The old regime forever, together with the old Number 2 forever, is that it?”
    “Sounds like a campaign slogan, I must remember it for next time” No.2 told him as he began to climb the steps.
    The taxi drove off leaving No.4 standing in the street, pedestrians walked passed, cyclists peddled by and to all intents and purposes it was to them, as though there had been no election. And so life in the village simply went on as usual. And yet there was still that vacant place on the local Town Council, which the recently re-elected No.2 had managed to avoid…….for the time being at least!

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