Roskov, Book 20, page 13
I sat as those behind me laughed.
The next shitty question came quickly, Blair’s plans to run up huge national debts through pension increases.
Blair stood. ‘Those planned increases will be more than offset by the planned savings in the social care sector, huge savings as we spread Three-Phase nursing homes around the country.’
As he sat, our side cheered.
The next question was one of honouring Tory agreements with G4S regarding prisons.
Blair responded, ‘We have agreed the payment rates for G4S and Roskov’s new soft prison expansion, and we’ll stick to them, a rapid expansion of soft prisons planned. And the Member for Leicester has agreed to supply G4S with food and drink in a partnership deal.’
The next shitty question was aimed at me. ‘Will the Member for Shagging Central be releasing more porn films?’
Laughter filled the chamber as the speaker told off the man for the use of a wrong title, and she threatened him with temporary expulsion. She finally called me.
I had waited, now I stood. ‘Yes.’ I sat, members on this side of the house laughing.
A few questions later, and again they aimed at me. ‘Will the Member for Leicester be buying up Barclays debt register in a cosy deal?’
I stood. ‘I will. But first I’m buying up the debt register of HSBC and RBS, repossessed houses and buildings turned into social rental homes.
‘I will also be colluding with Barclays to assist people about to be repossessed, a warm house mortgage fix, a bit of a loss leader for me but it’s done for political reasons not financial gain.
‘And the Phase Two development at Battersea will see most all rich Tory donors and their companies being involved in a huge new nursing home complex, a complex for rich people.
‘So before he asks similar questions, and questions about Battersea Phase II, he should probably check with whoever is pulling his strings.’
A cackle came from my side. But as I studied the man who had asked the question, images popped up. ‘Madam Speaker, may I ask the gentleman a question?’
‘You can, yes.’
I faced the man. ‘Your constituency is Hertfordshire, yet you sit on the board of several oil companies in Aberdeen, and your trips to Texas - flights and hotels - were all paid for by those oil companies, they even supplied the booze and hookers.’
A roar came from my side as a roar of complaint came from the other side.
‘Order, order. If the Member for Leicester is going to make such an accusation he should be able to back it up, and not make such an accusation in here.’
I stood. ‘I can back-up the claims, Madam Speaker. But I take what you say, and I’ll use the tabloids instead.’ I sat as a loud cackle was aimed at the man.
The Speaker pointed at the man. ‘Parliament will need a written response, regarding your trips to Texas, and just how they were funded. You may enter that detail to the Members’ Register, but you will not hide it.’
A Protestant MP was called. ‘Will the Member for Leicester be showing us elected Ulster members any respect at all?’
A cheer came from the Tory side.
I stood. ‘Respect? Really? That’s what you want? Do you not want jobs for your constituents, a growing economy, and peace of course? Because respect is what a bully wants, it’s not something that puts food on the table or pays the bills.
‘Wanting respect … is what a street thug wants, what an arrogant man wants. Wanting respect is what a damn plantation owner wants from his slaves!’
I sat to a loud complaint from the opposition and loud cheers from my side.
William Hague stood. ‘What the Member for Leicester has achieved in Northern Ireland is noteworthy and admirable, a new mood, a mood of optimism, jobs on the increase. He … has created thousands of new jobs for the province, Protestant as well as Catholic.
‘Perhaps the member from Ulster can detail for us how many jobs he’s created.’
My side cheered, their side oddly quiet.
Blair stood. ‘To quote the man, respect does not put food on the table. Jobs are needed desperately in the province, and Roskov has made great gains.
‘Through his charity we’re now investing in Northern Ireland, old houses renovated, new houses built, training programmes re-opened, programmes shut down under the last Tory Government, the Catholic minority ignored.
‘We will, within a matter of a few short years, boost the economy of the province and bring a lasting peace, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Roskov.’
A cheer came from my side.
I felt the strong tingle as the next Tory backbencher stood, the front bench Tory ministers not wanting to attack me it seemed – which was odd.
‘Will the Member for Leicester state here and now that his so-called “secret police” will not operate on British soil.’
The images had popped up as the man was speaking, he had been closely linked to Higgins, as well as Roger Pearson.
I stood. ‘On the 15th of June, 1995, you stayed at the home of Roger Pearson in Leicester.’ A gasp and a roar came from my side. ‘On the 12th of May, 1994, you stayed at his apartment in Portugal, a golfing holiday without your wife.’
The man was now looking worried.
‘A day after the truth about Roger Pearson made it to the national news you sold a house in Dingleford Village, Hertfordshire, and you illegally kept the money that Roger Person had invested in that house, nothing declared to the taxman or to the police.
‘Perhaps you can donate the two hundred thousand pounds gained illegally … to my charity!’
A loud roar came from my side, fingers pointed.
William Hague stood amongst the melee. ‘The member will declare his financial gain to the police and hand it over, done so right before he resigns from our party.’
‘Here, here,’ loudly came from my side as Hague sat.
As I watched, people sat near the man were jostling him, his head whacked from behind, the man finally walking out the chamber to some rude calls.
‘Order, order.’
Blair stood. ‘The member will be investigated by the security services for his close financial ties to Roger Pearson, and I’m appalled and dismayed that someone that once stayed in Roger Pearson’s home could be sat in this chamber.’
‘Here, here,’ came loudly from both sides.
The next question was also aimed at me, and also shitty. ‘Does the member for Leicester not have any morals when it comes to dealing with the dolphin murderers in the Faroe Islands?’
The images had popped up as I stood. ‘Morals? Really? You made your own sister pregnant and had a child with her!’
A loud gasp came from both sides.
I added, ‘And now your twenty year old niece is also pregnant by you. Maybe you can keep it your pants before your wife finds out! Oh, bugger. Madam Speaker, are we live on the television?’ I sat.
Laughter came from my side mixed with some rude words and a lot of finger pointing.
Hague stood. ‘I ask the member to clarify the claims as stated.’
No answer came, the man sat looking horrified as my side shouted for an answer.
Hague stood again, looking harassed. ‘Madam Speaker, would you kindly exclude the member from Parliament.’
‘The member will leave the chamber. Sergeant At Arms!’
The man walked out to some very rude comments, even from his own side.
The following questions were political, an hour used up. Before we ended, I stood to attract the speaker’s attention, and she called me next.
‘Thank you, Madam Speaker. Members of the House, what I’ve witnessed here today from the leader of the opposition has surprised me.
‘What I’ve seen, from someone boxed into a corner, his stomach probably turning, has been courage, leadership, and an excellent moral compass.
‘The members opposite can sleep well at night knowing that their leader exhibits excellent qualities, and the test of a man’s quality comes when things get tough, and today they got tough for the opposition leader, who takes the blame when his own members misbehave.
‘The revelations witnessed today, about the morality of some of the members sat opposite me, will have come as a shock to many, but the greatest revelation was the spotlight placed on William Hague, who stood up and did the right thing, not try and close ranks and talk his way out of it.’
‘Here, here,’ came from all sides.
I added, ‘The members opposite, it seems, have something to learn from their new leader about morality.’
I sat, a loud, ‘Here, here,’ coming from all sides.
Hague stood. ‘Yes, my stomach has been turning, and trust me when I say I’d rather be someplace else, or anyplace else than here today. And … it seems we have some work to do as a party to reclaim the trust of the public and the voters.
‘Those voters expect the members of this house to have morals, since we are – after all – the people that think up and pass new laws. If we can’t control our own members, what credibility do we have in the wider population?
‘It will take time, but we can do it, we can return to our moral centre, and not close ranks when we see other members misbehaving. It applies to the police, and it applies to us.’ He sat.
Blair stood. ‘I commend the words from the Leader of the Opposition, and we do need to clean house, and we do need the trust of the public. We need morals, because this is not a job like other jobs - we’re in a position of influence and trust.
‘And to the members opposite, I say this: If you want to ask a silly question of The Member for Leicester, be damned sure about your question … and make damn sure that you have no skeletons in the closet first!’
My side cheered and laughed as he sat.
And we were dismissed, Blair waving at me to follow. Behind The Speaker, we took the corridor and walked together towards the basement parking.
‘Bloody hell,’ he whispered with a grin. ‘They lost two MPs on the first day! Maybe three.’
‘Should I go easy on them?’
‘Hell no, give as good as you get. They’re supposed to be tripping us up and you murdered them out there. Tomorrow’s newspapers will be ugly – the party of sleaze.’
Pat and Dingle were waiting somehow, but then they admitted they had gotten word of the timescale. In the van, we negotiated the traffic for two minutes and pulled up, soon walking to the apartment.
Bonza was waiting with a huge grin. ‘I saw it all on the TV, and … fucking hell!’
‘I may have cost them a few MPs, yeah.’
We got the kettle on.
Gloria and Rupert had walked back, and now came in.
‘Jesus, Ricky,’ Gloria hissed, shaking her head.
‘We needed to clean house.’
She checked where Pat and Dingle were, then whispered, ‘Did you use your powers?’
I nodded.
‘That’s cheating!’
‘We needed the men gone anyhow, a return to clean politics.’
‘That’ll never happen,’ Rupert scoffed. ‘But Hague will be happy, you handed him a lot of power in the party.’
‘I figured he would try and fudge it and pretend that the men were clean. He did the right thing, he deserves the praise.’
The BBC called, but I said that I was busy. Sky News called next, and I gave them the same excuse.
When I was alone in my bedroom, I closed my eyes and imagined the Tory MP visiting Texas, which lap dance bars were frequented, even the names of hookers, dates and times.
Having written it all down, I called The Sun newspaper and detailed it. They would quote me and avoid a slander charge, they would also telephone certain lap dance bars in Texas and ask about certain dancers’ names.
The 9pm news had the Tory MP friend of Roger Pearson seen being arrested, some difficult questions for him no doubt.
The 10pm news detailed that the Tory MP, who had made his sister and niece pregnant, was in hospital with a stab wound – a gift from his wife.
‘Hell hath no fury,’ I quipped at the TV as we sat around with cold beers.
The BBC then showed me commending Hague, sure to bolster his position after such a bad day in the news.
Blood on the pages
Pat fetched the newspapers at 8am, and we sat around the kitchen table flicking through the pages, our errant Tory MPs detailed.
“Roskov Savages the Tories!” was the headline in two papers. “State Opening of Parliament Overshadowed” was another headline, and “The Party of Sleaze” was a third.
The Sun newspaper had the names of the hookers at a certain Texas lap dance bar, a photograph of it, a confirmation that the dancers of that name worked there at the time of the visits.
A nearby hotel confirmed that the MP had stayed there three nights, and that the room had been paid for by an oil company. But they did not have the killer blow yet. Still, I was protected by Parliamentary Privilege – so I hoped.
The 9am BBC news did have the killer blow for the man, or at least his wife did, she had punched him in the street in front of witnesses – the police called, and the man was now banned from his own posh house by his wife.
Dobson turned up, and with letters and papers in hand. He handed me a list of Labour MP meetings, a copy of our policy document, and a wad of letters and faxes for me, a thick file.
‘The letters and faxes went to Labour Party HQ, they don’t have this address -’
‘Nor should they ever get it,’ I warned.
He nodded. ‘You get the junk mail from companies that want you on their board, or speaking on their behalf, and you get invites to talk at various events. The invites you have are the good ones.’
I had a look at the invites, and there were a few London business clubs in the mix, economics groups, a pile handed to Bonza to scan.
Bonza told me, ‘At the constituency office we get begging letters, all quickly glanced at and filed away, we don’t reply.’
‘Good, because I can’t be seen to be chucking money at people, it would be a never ending process.’ I faced Dobson. ‘Should I do the talks?’
‘It all helps, but we’re not campaigning for re-election for another four years – so it may not serve any purpose.’
‘There are businessmen I want to talk to. But tell me about new young MPs and the stresses they have?’
‘Oh. Well, yes, they do have stresses, high divorce rate, and their health suffers. They make the mistake of joining many groups and working a hundred hours a week, and they often struggle with finding a place to live, finding offices -’
‘And why the fuck is the government not helping them!’ I loudly asked. ‘Do the taxpayers expect our new MPs to be so tired they’re fucking useless?’
‘It is an issue, yes, something that no government has grappled with -’
‘I will, I’ll have a go at it, some charity money spent. And I’ll shame the system; we should be treating our people better than this.’
‘I agree, and some wander the corridors a bit lost.’
‘I’ll hand you some extra cash, you lecture them on what to do, arrange a hall big enough and hire it at my expense, get a few old hacks to attend, cash in hand for them. And I mean this week.’
‘I can sort something, yes, there are a few informal meetings.’
‘Make them formal, a helping hand, I’ll sort a few apartments for a month or so, to get people started. Be a love and make that your top priority, fixing the men that fix the system.’
With Dobson gone I called Russel, and I asked him to find me short-stay apartments close to Parliament, a good bulk deal.
‘There is somewhere … hold on … here, on the Barclays list, an apartment block south of the river past the hospital, forty apartments with double rooms, a communal area downstairs, a defunct café and a defunct shop.’
‘Name?’
‘147 Southwark Street.’
‘Keep looking, I need more apartments, but just for two months. Thanks.’ I called the CEO at Barclays.
‘Ricky, have you been upsetting people?’
I smiled. ‘Who me? Listen, look up a repo block in London, 147 Southwark Street.’
‘Hold on.’ After a minute came, ‘Go ahead.’
‘I want it, straight away, apartments for new MPs that are struggling.’
‘It says … that it has beds and cupboards and basics, some apartments were furnished ready, café closed on the ground floor.’
‘And my discount on it?’
‘Thirty percent.’
‘I’ll take it, and I want the keys in the morning, someone to meet us there.’
‘I’ll sort it for you now.’
‘Thanks, appreciate it.’
My next call was Russel. ‘I told Barclays that we’ll take 147 Southwark, and they’ll hand us keys in the morning, so pay them the price, a thirty percent discount to us; clarify that with them. Got a paper and pen?’
‘Yes.’
‘Get a team ready, from an estate agent in London. Some of the apartments are furnished, some not. I want two beds in each apartment plus a sofa bed, kettle, toaster, microwave, the works, and I need that done within a day or two.
‘I need a local agent to maintain the building, clean it, 24hr guard on the door for two months. There’s a café on the ground floor - which I want a staff for, the café to be operational as soon as practical, and it will stay active after the residents have gone and we rent out the apartments.
‘First, send in the cleaners, like tomorrow, to work all day and finish. But this is a stop gap, a place for new MPs to sleep.’
‘New MPs?’
‘There are two hundred of them apparently, with nowhere to stay and looking a bit lost.’
‘Should they not have planned ahead?’ he asked.
‘You’d think so, but no. Most are commuting to the suburbs and sleeping on a friend’s sofa for now, disorganised as fuck.’
‘You’re not filling me with confidence about our elected officials…’
