Part 35 - Don't You Love Your Country? (Monday, 4 October 1971) It was a frustrating campaign, Enoch thought. Very hard to get, what was the word those Ogilvy & Mather blighters used? Traction. That was it. Very hard to get traction. Take the Fijis. Peggy had cleaned out the Foreign Office which was only proper. Allowing, nay encouraging, the rebellion was an act of fecklessness. But the far worse debacle was the invasion itself. Allowing poorly armed natives, mostly militia to kill so many British servicemen! Heads should have rolled. But those responsible were given medals. And Denis was still sitting pretty in charge of the MoD. But when Enoch called for accountability he was met with cries of "Don't you love your country?" And the rot was spreading. When Enoch spoke out against inflation, unemployment, the shortages and interference with the press the response remained "Don't you love your country?" Oh, and some nonsense about recovering from eighteen years of Tory misrule. How could they talk about 'recovering' when things had become so much worse in the past two years? Even to air a grievance by a constituent whose weekly shopping trip to Wolverhampton had been lengthened by an hour due to the new National Timetable caused Enoch to be accused of lack of patriotism. Usually the question "Don't you love your country?" wasn't asked by Peggy or her Cabinet. That would be a bit too rich, coming from a pack of internationalist like them. But it was backbenchers, the BBC and newspapers nobbled and unnobbled alike. Even the Liberals were getting in on the act. Ted had the cheek to ask the question of Enoch in a speech last week, only to have his own speech given the treatment by the papers the next day. It was sheer opportunism for Peggy to call this election less that half-way through her term. She's only doing this because she thinks she can win, thought Enoch. And she's probably right.

The election was on Bobby's mind too, albeit a different and more distant election. The Watershed scandal had run its course, Bob being the most notable casualty. There had been quite a turnover this year, Hank was one of the few old faces still in the West Wing. But Hank wasn't in the Oval Office today. Bobby was meeting with Teddy and Jimmy[1]. "It's looking almost certain we won't have Nixon to kick around again," the Attorney-General said. Bobby agreed this would be a shame. While he had not been directly involved in the 1968 campaign, and it wasn't the close nail-biter that 1960 had been, it was gratifying to see the almost surgical way Lyn had eviscerated Dick. "With Barry crossing the river we can expect to see Ron being the leading Republican," opined Jimmy. "That's just crazy," said Teddy, "Goldwater lost worse than Nixon did four years later. Why would they put up another right-winger like him?" The President weighed in, "Now Ted, you must remember how much more important primaries are. While Ron may be extreme from the point of view of the American people as a whole, he's quite close to Republican activists, the ones that will vote in the primaries. And people don't just vote based on what his views are, they also vote on the way he presents them. Which is why he's twice been elected Governor of California." "They vote for style more than substance?" asked Jimmy, in a shocked voice. Bobby looked at his Vice President. He had been constantly revising his opinion of Jimmy downwards ever since the Southerner had been sworn in. How did a man get to be elected governor of a state like Georgia and be so naïve? Jimmy was certainly no Lester Maddox. Bobby decided he better spell it our, "Really, it doesn't matter which Republican gets the nomination. I've got the advantage of incumbency and the economy is going well. As long as the war in Vietnam doesn't flare-up. Ideally if we could..." The President saw the Attorney-General raise a hand. "Teddy?" "Sir, Hank has a plan..." "I know all about Hank's secret plan to end the war, Ted," Bobby interjected, "But we can't have myself or a member of my administration initiating ties with Red China. People would question our patriotism." "No sir. This is a new secret plan of Hank's."

It was bedlam at the BBC at the best of times, more so with the election campaign going on. The campaign didn't directly effect the Director of Light Entertainment's department but technicians were being seconded, recording rooms occupied and schedules disrupted. The fact that loudspeakers in all the corridors were constantly playing Kapital Radio didn't help either.       We belong to a mu-tu-al ad-mir-a-tion society. My baby and me!       We belong to a mu-tu-al ad-mir-a-tion society! And here came the Director-General himself, tearing down one of the corridors. The Director felt he should say something. "Jimmy!" The DG insisted on first names, or better yet nick-names, to be used by staff. He thought it raised morale and productivity.       She thinks I'm handsome and I'm smart.       I think she's a work of art. "Hullo, Bugger-lugs!" Not for the first time the Director regretted he and the DG attending Oxford together. It seemed now that he would never escape that appellation. Still, perhaps he could use the common university experience to his advantage.       She says that I'm the greatest man.       And likewise, I'm her biggest fan. "Jimmy, have you ever thought that the BBC is something like a rowing boat? With you as the cox, shouting encouragement rather than rowing?"       I say her kisses are like wine.       She says they're not as good as mine.       And that's the way we pass the time. "Can't say that I have, Bugger-lugs. But I like the idea of encouragement. The best way to encourage people is to lead by example, don't you think? Anyway, must rush or I'll be late for a recording session of Jimmy'll Fix It." And with that Jimmy sped off, leaving Bugger-lugs alone in the corridor with the loudspeaker.       My baby and me, oh we belong to a mu-tu-al ad-mir-a-tion society!       My baby and me! [2]

(Wednesday, 13 October 1971) They still thought of themselves as Five although numbers had fallen off. Timmy had long since passed away. And George had decided that she didn't want to be a man, that men were horrid. So she had become a Greerist although Anne secretly thought with her choice of clothes and haircut she looked more like a boy than ever. Thus the Five were three. Three was far too small a number, it was likely that the Societies Society would stop the funding for their Tory Society next term. They hoped the return of Enoch, after the two years' interruption, might be good for recruitment. But small in numbers the Cambridge University Tory Society hoped to play a decisive role in the election campaign. John Wakeham[3] was trying to win the seat of Maldon and the Five were doing everything in their power to assist his victory. Each weekend in the last month was spent cycling through the Essex countryside, canvassing. Doors were knocked, letterboxes were stuffed with leaflets. Everywhere was scoured. Except Thaxted. Oh, they could cycle through it. But John was explicit, "No stopping. It's something of a no-go area for us Tories at the moment." But despite that black spot, the canvassing was most encouraging. All the decent people were right behind Enoch, looking for a return to prosperity, discipline and the values that had made Britain great. Oh, there were a few who favoured the Prime Minister but they were mostly all horrid people - foreigners, manual labourers and old, poor folk. With the last of the CUTS funds Anne had purchased provender for their victory celebration. There were turkey and tomato sandwiches, ham rolls, potato crisps, chocolate biscuits and lashings of ginger beer. As she was placing delicacies on the groaning table Julian and Pip had already began warming up the trusty black-and-white television. They wouldn't be able to see Richard Dimbleby's swingometer in its full colour glory but should nevertheless be able to capture the gist of the election night. Following was not hard. "Oh, look!" squealed Anne, "John's improved the Conservative majority in the constituency.." "Hurrah!" cheered Julian and Pip in unison, feeling sure that all their hard work had been in part responsible. But the rest of the coverage was discouraging. The swings Enoch needed weren't there. Worse, there were swings in the wrong direction. Promising Conservative backbenchers were being toppled left and right. "How could people vote for that revolting Mrs Wedgwood Benn and her party ahead of Enoch?" demanded Julian. There was no answer. They watched Enoch concede defeat. They watched until the end of transmission, until the image on the screen was just a little white dot. The food was largely untouched. Anne tried to find the silver lining, to buck everyone up. "Enoch's a good egg, he believes in the same sort of thing we do. But we've just seen that a lot of the British voters are soft, the increased Liberal vote showed that. The party'll probably pick someone like Peter Walker. He's a bit wet but his Butskillism might be all the rage at the next election. He may not be the sort of Prime Minister we want but at least he will be our Prime Minister, a Conservative Prime Minister. I'd rather the party didn't have to move to the left but there you are." Something about this didn't ring true for Pip. He heard himself saying, "No, I think they'll move to the right." Anne and Julian's jaws dropped. "Pip, how would this be possible?" Julian asked. "I don't know," Pip answered glumly, "It's just a feeling I have." "Come on chaps!" said Anne, bracingly, "All this ginger beer isn't going to drink itself!"

(Thursday, 14 October 1971) Dick rubbed his chin. The trademark 5 o'clock shadow had long gone, in retirement he sported a full stansgate. He still wasn't sure how he'd let the Secretary of State talk him in to this. He knew the President still despised him and was simply using him. But Hank had appealed to both his sense of patriotic duty and also his sense of history. "You don't want to be remembered as another politician who ended his career as a Vice President, as a footnote?" Of course he didn't. In a very real sense Dick hadn't left politics. He might not be campaigning but he was still actively following national affairs and especially international affairs. He was very conscious of the growing split between the USSR and the PRC. Hank had suggested that this could be exploited to America's advantage and Dick couldn't agree more. Now the limousine was pulling up. A uniformed man opened the door and another uniformed man led him inside. And there he was. An unattractive old man, seated, with a barely more attractive young woman standing beside him - presumably his translator. Dick held out an ornate envelope, "Comrade Chairman, greetings and good wishes. May I present my credentials from President Kennedy as the Ambassador plenipotentiary for the United States of America." [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] Not Jimmy Hoffa. The other, other Jimmy. [2] 'Mutual Admiration Society'. Words and music: Matt Dubey/Harold Karr [3] For the benefit of those tender readers who tend to get lost every time the Thaxted action leaves the White House John Wakeham in OTL has become Lord Wakeham, the Baron Maldon, who has become enmeshed in the Enron scandal. Reassuringly, everything links back to America.