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queerlygenTitle: More Like a Shot in the Dark
Creator:snow
Universe: British Politics RPF
Type of work: Fanfiction, ~1000 words
Contains: Discussion but no graphic depiction of zombies and death. Politics.
Summary and/or notes: Peter Mandelson didn't ask to be given control of the country when the zombie apocalypse (not that he'd use either of those words) happened, but that doesn't mean he's not doing the best job he can.
Disclaimer: Though some of the events described in this story are based on actual people, this account is entirely fictional. This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. By no means does is this story intended to imply that the events depicted actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
"Even if we had a written constitution, it would not cover the current situation," Lord Mandelson, emergency interim leader of the United Kingdom, said.
"By which you mean the zombie apocalypse," the journalist, another in the long line of people who didn't last long enough for Mandelson to care about to learn their names or personalities, said.
"I wouldn't call it an apocalypse," Mandelson interrupted right back.
"It's certainly had a great personal impact on you," the journalist replied.
Mandelson rolled his eyes. He was still trying not to think about that part anyway. "I don't think personal tragedy makes an event qualify as an apocalypse."
"Widespread personal tragedy?" the journalist asked, though Mandelson was beginning to doubt the man's credentials.
"Still not an apocalypse. Also, zombies is a hystericalist term that doesn't help us address the situation."
"Have you thought about the fact that you might run into your partner in reanimated form?" asked the man, definitely not a journalist, though Mandelson supposed that having an intact camera might be the only qualifying factor now.
"At this point I suspect his face would have decayed beyond recognition," Mandelson said, looking the interviewer in the eyes and thanking years of political manoeuvrings for meaning his stomach was far from delicate. He was sure that his own spin would tell him that he should be using Reinaldo's death to make up for the general lack of sympathy he had from the public, but Mandelson just couldn't.
"But you've gotten me off topic," the journalist said, when it was clear that Mandelson wasn't going to say anything further. Mandelson raised an eyebrow, because he was pretty sure the off topicness had all been on the part of the interviewer. Mandelson's obvious personal preference would have been not to discuss his recently undead partner.
"You wanted to talk about why I've been organising the government to repulse the threat posed by the reanimation of dead bodies?" Mandelson asked.
The journalist, bless him, just nodded.
"Because I'm expendable. You could say something trite about how I don't have anything left to live for," and Mandelson was sure the journalist would try and promptly be laughed out of his newly-chosen profession anyone who had been in the field more than a month ago, "But the fact of the matter is that it's less important that I survive than that Mr. Clegg or Mr. Cameron or anyone else in the Cabinet does." Mandelson paused and looked directly at the camera, knowing this was the sound bite he wanted to make the evening news, "First and foremost, the cabinet thinks I can do this, that I can protect Britain. And trust me, they're right."
Mandelson had been surprised at the fact that his reputation apparently went beyond the idea that he was willing to do whatever necessary for the good of party and country and into the idea that whatever he did would work. He was not at all surprised by the Tory and Lib Dem decision to safely retreat from the conflict, rather than facing it head on, he was just surprised that they'd decided to leave him in charge.
The journalist mustered himself enough to continue with the interview, though it was clear that he believed Mandelson's line. Normally Mandelson would be quietly amused by that, but this time around he believed his own line. He didn't have the luxury not to.
"Why haven't you tried a quarantine?" the journalist asked.
"Because I don't believe it would work," Mandelson said. "If people feel more comfortable with that, they're welcome to barricade themselves in their houses. But my personal experience is that where individuals attempted to implement it on their own it tended to lead to undeath."
"Isn't that just because the quarantines were incomplete?"
"Well, yes," Mandelson replied. "Because you can't create a complete quarantine in this day and age." He didn't mind this line of questioning, even masked in attack as it was, since it gave him his chance to stand on a soapbox and every additional snippet of positive media attention meant that a couple more people would hear his message and survive. "The only way Britain as a country will survive is if we work together. There are two ways to defeat any virus, to let it die out by removing any chance it has to spread or to forcefully eliminate every instance of it. In this case, the latter is actually much more feasible than the former."
"Some of the measures you've implemented are a little...extreme," the journalist said.
"I realise that government curfew has a negative connotation," Mandelson said, "But so does being eaten alive. I am doing no more than is necessary."
"For an unelected leader-"
"You're right," Mandelson said. "I wasn't elected to my current position. Neither was the nurse who saved my life or the doctor who identified the virus before it had a chance to spread beyond control. I owe my life to the former and Britain owes its existence to the latter. I'm just trying to keep us all alive long enough to say thank you."
"Were you surprised to be contacted by Prime Minister Cameron?"
"Of course I was," Mandelson admitted. "I suppose it just makes me determined to insure that the trust that has been placed in me was justified."
The journalist had been wrapping up for the last five minutes, so Mandelson wasn't surprised to see him nod and the green light of the camera flicker off.
"Run the compiled footage by my PA before you air it," he said, picking up the full body armour from where he'd set it, out of sight of the camera.
The journalist nodded without complaint or reservation, and Mandelson found himself missing the better journalists, the ones who would have looked appalled at the very idea.
Ah well. If he did his job right he could restore questioning of the government. Sometime after he saved Britain and before he transferred power back to the Liberal Conservatives.
Creator:
snowUniverse: British Politics RPF
Type of work: Fanfiction, ~1000 words
Contains: Discussion but no graphic depiction of zombies and death. Politics.
Summary and/or notes: Peter Mandelson didn't ask to be given control of the country when the zombie apocalypse (not that he'd use either of those words) happened, but that doesn't mean he's not doing the best job he can.
Disclaimer: Though some of the events described in this story are based on actual people, this account is entirely fictional. This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. By no means does is this story intended to imply that the events depicted actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
"Even if we had a written constitution, it would not cover the current situation," Lord Mandelson, emergency interim leader of the United Kingdom, said.
"By which you mean the zombie apocalypse," the journalist, another in the long line of people who didn't last long enough for Mandelson to care about to learn their names or personalities, said.
"I wouldn't call it an apocalypse," Mandelson interrupted right back.
"It's certainly had a great personal impact on you," the journalist replied.
Mandelson rolled his eyes. He was still trying not to think about that part anyway. "I don't think personal tragedy makes an event qualify as an apocalypse."
"Widespread personal tragedy?" the journalist asked, though Mandelson was beginning to doubt the man's credentials.
"Still not an apocalypse. Also, zombies is a hystericalist term that doesn't help us address the situation."
"Have you thought about the fact that you might run into your partner in reanimated form?" asked the man, definitely not a journalist, though Mandelson supposed that having an intact camera might be the only qualifying factor now.
"At this point I suspect his face would have decayed beyond recognition," Mandelson said, looking the interviewer in the eyes and thanking years of political manoeuvrings for meaning his stomach was far from delicate. He was sure that his own spin would tell him that he should be using Reinaldo's death to make up for the general lack of sympathy he had from the public, but Mandelson just couldn't.
"But you've gotten me off topic," the journalist said, when it was clear that Mandelson wasn't going to say anything further. Mandelson raised an eyebrow, because he was pretty sure the off topicness had all been on the part of the interviewer. Mandelson's obvious personal preference would have been not to discuss his recently undead partner.
"You wanted to talk about why I've been organising the government to repulse the threat posed by the reanimation of dead bodies?" Mandelson asked.
The journalist, bless him, just nodded.
"Because I'm expendable. You could say something trite about how I don't have anything left to live for," and Mandelson was sure the journalist would try and promptly be laughed out of his newly-chosen profession anyone who had been in the field more than a month ago, "But the fact of the matter is that it's less important that I survive than that Mr. Clegg or Mr. Cameron or anyone else in the Cabinet does." Mandelson paused and looked directly at the camera, knowing this was the sound bite he wanted to make the evening news, "First and foremost, the cabinet thinks I can do this, that I can protect Britain. And trust me, they're right."
Mandelson had been surprised at the fact that his reputation apparently went beyond the idea that he was willing to do whatever necessary for the good of party and country and into the idea that whatever he did would work. He was not at all surprised by the Tory and Lib Dem decision to safely retreat from the conflict, rather than facing it head on, he was just surprised that they'd decided to leave him in charge.
The journalist mustered himself enough to continue with the interview, though it was clear that he believed Mandelson's line. Normally Mandelson would be quietly amused by that, but this time around he believed his own line. He didn't have the luxury not to.
"Why haven't you tried a quarantine?" the journalist asked.
"Because I don't believe it would work," Mandelson said. "If people feel more comfortable with that, they're welcome to barricade themselves in their houses. But my personal experience is that where individuals attempted to implement it on their own it tended to lead to undeath."
"Isn't that just because the quarantines were incomplete?"
"Well, yes," Mandelson replied. "Because you can't create a complete quarantine in this day and age." He didn't mind this line of questioning, even masked in attack as it was, since it gave him his chance to stand on a soapbox and every additional snippet of positive media attention meant that a couple more people would hear his message and survive. "The only way Britain as a country will survive is if we work together. There are two ways to defeat any virus, to let it die out by removing any chance it has to spread or to forcefully eliminate every instance of it. In this case, the latter is actually much more feasible than the former."
"Some of the measures you've implemented are a little...extreme," the journalist said.
"I realise that government curfew has a negative connotation," Mandelson said, "But so does being eaten alive. I am doing no more than is necessary."
"For an unelected leader-"
"You're right," Mandelson said. "I wasn't elected to my current position. Neither was the nurse who saved my life or the doctor who identified the virus before it had a chance to spread beyond control. I owe my life to the former and Britain owes its existence to the latter. I'm just trying to keep us all alive long enough to say thank you."
"Were you surprised to be contacted by Prime Minister Cameron?"
"Of course I was," Mandelson admitted. "I suppose it just makes me determined to insure that the trust that has been placed in me was justified."
The journalist had been wrapping up for the last five minutes, so Mandelson wasn't surprised to see him nod and the green light of the camera flicker off.
"Run the compiled footage by my PA before you air it," he said, picking up the full body armour from where he'd set it, out of sight of the camera.
The journalist nodded without complaint or reservation, and Mandelson found himself missing the better journalists, the ones who would have looked appalled at the very idea.
Ah well. If he did his job right he could restore questioning of the government. Sometime after he saved Britain and before he transferred power back to the Liberal Conservatives.