Your Country Needs You!
Sleaze, corruption and conceit have been the hallmarks of successive elected Governments and the Queen has had enough! Convinced that ordinary citizens selected at random by a new computer nicknamed RADO – Random Automatic Democratic Order – can run the world’s fourth biggest economy just as effectively, she abolishes Parliament as we know it! Can a hundred and two (one per country) men and women ‘good and true’ possibly do any worse than the overpaid and overrated career politicians they replace? Thus the story traces the action of a ‘national draw’ and subsequent life of the new Parliament. Has the Queen made a huge mistake? Could it work in reality and how would you react if your country needed YOU?
The writing is witty and humorous. There is a twist in the tale and hidden agendas throughout which provide surprise elements to keep the reader enthralled.
You can buy 'Your Country Needs You!' by visiting the following link www.ypd-books.co.uk
Extract from 'Your Country Needs You!"
Buckingham Palace
London SW1
Today
Queen Elizabeth the second had not been a happy lady for many, many months – if not years. Her Coronation in 1953 had brought with it the hope for a second Elizabethan Era. One to emulate that period of British history when King Henry the Eighth’s daughter had launched England towards a position of global expansion and supremacy that would one day result in an Empire that ruled over half the planet’s humanity and make the bailiwicks of Genghis Khan, Caesar and Alexander look like mere chattels.
She was alone on this grey afternoon in January. Looking out over the gardens from her favourite sitting room towards Green Park she could just make out the distinctive shape of Clarence House, her late mother’s former residence. What a happy place it had been for over thirty years with parties, official dinners, receptions and the like. And who in the whole country did not shed a tear or two when in August every year a military band marched past her mother’s home playing ‘Happy Birthday’ and the nation rejoiced. But since the death of her mother in 2002 it seemed as if the whole country had changed for the worse. As if the nation spirit had died with her. Gone was the Dunkirk spirit. Gone was the attitude of ‘we’ll be all right mate’ as the nation and its Empire pulled together as one against a common foe.
Less than three months had passed since the President of the Free World and his First Lady had been her guests at her official London residence. Only her very closest advisers, and none of her family, knew that that was to be the last State visit that she would ever host at the behest of a Prime Minister. She had made up her mind. Her resolve was absolute. Never again would a party politician use the Monarchy as a prop for ‘media opportunities’ and never again would a Prime Minister be able to use executive power in quite the same way again. Her Majesty had often admired the American system whereby had to seek re-election every four years and the Constitution forbade him more than two terms. In Britain the Prime Minister could pick the time of the next election to suit him best – usually when he saw ahead in the polls and scandals were at a minimum.
It was this last bit that stuck in her Royal craw. Hardly a month had gone by during the present Government’s term of office when some nasty little slug hadn’t crawled out from under a stone. Corrupt Ministers. Gay Ministers. Ministers caught in bed with other Ministers’ wives. Even Ministers caught in bed with other Ministers. Little wonder that in a recent national opinion poll when asked who the voter would like to see run as an elected Head of State the results had stunned the nation. Not a single current politician featured in the Top Twenty. A parallel poll even suggested that politicians were trusted even less than estate agents. But the results had not surprised Her Majesty. Far from it. Today she had a little fillip to her normal routine. She had signed the approval papers for the naming of the two new aircraft carriers for the Royal Navy. They were to be called HMS Queen Elizabeth and HMS Prince of Wales. These two new capital ships were to have a planned hull life of fifty years – long past her expiration. She was honest enough to admit to herself that if she were able to place a bet she would not place much money on there being either a Queen or a Prince of Wales in twenty let alone fifty years. An article in today’s papers exposing a Government MP photographing himself almost nude for a gay website was the straw that broke the Royal camel’s back. To her it was justification for what she was about to do.
She finished the last of her Chelsea bun and drained the Earl Grey tea from an exquisite Noritake tea cup – a gift from the Japanese Ambassador on entering the Court of St. James – and dialled her internal telephone to speak with her Personal Equerry. She needed to speak with him urgently. Time was of the essence. He wasn’t long. He never was.
She bade him to sit down, the look of a thousand problems on her face. She told him of her plans. The Permanent Head of the Civil Service was to be summoned to the Palace tomorrow morning. Within days a political programme was to be instigated in the United Kingdom the like of which these islands had not witnessed since Cromwell.
