The Row

“It doesn’t matter”, said the Prime Minister. “I said we had to pull all the stops out. I promised on national tv that we would leave no stone unturned. I promised that the armed forces will be mobilised. I want everybody on the case.”

“But sir, that’ll be costly”. Said his permanent secretary. He continued, “if we get the army in, we’ll have to worry about getting them to wherever they’re going. And once they get there, we’ll need to put them up in hotels…”

The Prime Minister cut him short. “Money? Money? Who gives a monkey’s about money? This is a national emergency, man, can’t you see that it’s all hands to the pumps?”

The civil servant bristled, and took a deep breath. He calmly responded, “I’m sorry, sir. I’m merely pointing out that we already have nursing staff on the ground, who are willing and able to administer the vaccine. It will cost us a fraction that the armed forces would, and the rollout itself would happen at the same speed. The effect of using the armed forces will be negligible, sir”.

“But I want the photographers to see the fucking army out there! I promised the army and I want the fucking army! I want them to see I’m doing everything I can. Now stop arguing and just do it!”.

“Yes, sir”, he said, and rose to leave the room. As he closed the door, he heard the Prime Minister call after him: “Full Fatigues”.

This, of course, is complete fiction..


inspired by Fandango’s One Word Challenge (FOWC) of 5 February 2021, tell.

While enjoying occasion auspicious,
He kept drinking all night, repetitious,
There was no way to tell,
Why he then felt unwell,
But those ten pints of beer looked suspicious

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