The morning of the 2012 Budget and David Cameron suddenly awoke in the bedroom of 10 Downing Street in a cold sweat. He sat up in bed then moved to the side and placed his feet on the floor. He rubbed his hands through his hair.
“What is it?” asked Samantha Cameron who had been disturbed by her husband’s sudden awakening.
“It happened again,” he replied, “the dream, that horrible dream.”
Samantha sat up and put her arm around David’s shoulders. “Look, I am sure it won’t happen,” she said, “Osborne will show up to parliament today fully clothed.”
David wasn’t convinced by his wife’s soothing words. He got up from bed and went to the window. He opened the curtains. A blanket of greyness covered the morning sky. David turned again to his wife. “You didn’t see it though. I saw it. Standing there all tall and proud before my very eyes.” He paused a moment before continuing. “Glistening with expectation.”
David went to his wardrobe and took out his blue velvet dressing gown. It was a present from Vince Cable for listening to him one day and emroided with David’s initials in a gold coloured thread. A tear almost came to his eyes as he remembered how that little old man came to him one afternoon to warn him about the dangers of the Murdoch empire. He recalled how he sat before Vince Cable with that look he had perfected over the years of looking as if he was listening intently to somebody when instead he was trying to decide what it was he having for dinner that evening. “I need some breakfast”.
David went downstairs and made himself some breakfast. He knew today was going to be a long day. Prime Minister’s questions followed by the budget announcement to be read by the chancellor, George Osborne, it was a day where his government would be under the spotlight like no other.
David sat at his breakfast table eating his cereal when his contemplation was broken by the Downing Street butler. “Sir, Mr Osborne, Mr Clegg and Mr Alexander are here.”
David put his spoon down. “Show them in.”
Barely a moment later and the three men arrived in David’s kitchen. These four men were known as the quartet and had, between them, pretty much decided this year’s budget. They were now to have their final preparation meeting before the budget speech.
“Not dressed yet I see.” remarked George Osborne, his thin reedy voice and knowing look sending shivers down the spines of his fellow men.
“No, not yet,” replied David, “I have just woken up.”
“Not to worry,” replied George, “I am sure we can hold this meeting no matter what state of dress we may all be in.”
David coughed suddenly. What was it about Osborne that created this effect on people? Was it the voice? Was it the fact he always looked through the top of his eyes at people as if he knew their deepest and darkest secrets?
Nick Clegg tried to lighten the mood. “You know it’s days like this that made me regret giving up smoking.”
“Oh, do f*ck off!” snapped Osborne. “Who asked for your opinion?”
“Sorry.” replied Nick and looked down at his shoes.
David composed himself. “Look,” he said, “we are here to go over the budget and make sure we have all the angles covered.”
Danny Alexander finally spoke up. “Look we have checked this budget over and over again. We have carefully managed all leaks to the press. They have done as expected and released it all so the public no what to expect.”
Osborne cut in and stared directly into the eyes of David. “There should be no sudden surprises.”
David felt his legs go weak beneath him and sat back down at the breakfast table. “So,” David said, “the public know we will be cutting the higher rate of tax to 45p, we will tackle the tax loopholes that rich people exploit.”
“Yes,” replied Osborne, “without specifying how we will do that so the public will just see the headline.”
David continued. “They are aware of all day trading during the Olympics. We will be reviewing the state pension age, there will need to be £10billion worth of wefare savings, we will be giving taxpayers statements of where their money has been spent from 2014, a budget to reward hard working people aswell as the usual bashing of the alcohol and tobacco industries.”
Nick spoke up again. “Glad I have given up smoking!”
David sat back and rubbed his hands over his face. “Well, it looks like we have covered most of the bases. I don’t think much can go wrong.”
“No,” said George looking straight into the eyes of David again, “what could possibly go wrong?”
“Oh, do f*ck off!” shouted Osborne.
