The Barbershop Seven (137 page)

This was no time to go charging into the full glare of trashazoid docu-soap. If they wanted to show Scotland was fully functional, they should have replaced the cabinet members as they fell; they should have shown a united front, Jesse Longfellow-Moses should actually turn up in parliament every now and again; they should act like a government, not a one-man collective intent on following his own whim and ignoring the advice of everyone else.

But JLM was so far embedded into his own personal planet, so swept up in the glory of public appearances and media attention that the timing was not important to him. Bugger disrespect, bugger the families of those who had died, bugger their friends: he was going to go on live television, and he was going to tell the world that it didn't matter that their mother or father or daughter or son or husband or wife or friend had been killed, and that it had made no difference to the smooth running of the country. In fact, if anything, it had improved it.

And after an hour Barney had finally reached the conclusion that the following day would be his last working for Jesse Longfellow-Moses. Maybe he owed his very existence to JLM; without him he might still be the guy who'd been found on Leith docks, with no past and no future, but he'd had enough of him, and enough of the rest of them. Except Rebecca Blackadder. But then, there was likely nothing he could do about that.

Tomorrow would be the end. He'd do the frantic day's worth of hairdressing that was required, might even enjoy it, and then he'd be on his way.

He turned over, closed his eyes, and eventually, through the uncertain thoughts that nuzzled away inside his head, sleep came to him.

––––––––

T
hey were each called to a ten o'clock the following morning. All the team, all the cabinet. Weirdlove had been up all night assembling the replacements for those who had been murdered. He'd had a brief discussion with JLM about it, but it wasn't as if the First Minister had actually heard of most of the MSPs who were left in the chamber, so Weirdlove had more or less been given the green light to formulate the next government. There was no need at this stage for him to have to stoop to the level of appointing deputy ministers, as they wouldn't be appearing in the TV special; he just needed to have the full cabinet in place.

So, a nip and a tuck here, the odd curious little placement there, a few late night or early morning phone calls, a bit of arm twisting, and Weirdlove had his team. JLM was obviously remaining as First Minister, although there would be the odd call for him to stand down from some of the newspapers once it emerged that it had been one of his crew who was responsible for the cabinet slaughter. However, none of the eight main Scottish dailies actually saw fit to change their front pages late on the Thursday when the story of Father Michael had emerged, none of the editors could be bothered writing a new editorial, so it wasn't as if there was too much condemnation. So, the papers all still went to press with the following headlines: Daily Record –
'I Shagged Survivor Babe' Claims Rangers Ace
; The Herald –
Bush
'
Forgets' Hawaii Part of US, Nukes Honolulu
; The Sun –
Blair To Be Next 'God';
Aberdeen Press & Journal –
P&J Prevents Turnip Price Hitting Heights
; The Scotsman –
Israel 'Very Naughty' For Killing 1million Palestinians, Says Bush
; Daily Mail –
Massive Oil Deposits Discovered In Zimbabwe, US Sends Troops To Oust Mugabe
; The Express –
Blair Suspends Commons In 'Logical' Next Step
; The Mirror –
Big Brother's Malky To Take It Up The Arse In Live TV First Shocker!

After sifting through the possible candidates for cabinet positions, Weirdlove decided that there was not even the remotest possibility of finding the five people in the parliament that they needed who could so much as read and write, never mind actually string a coherent sentence together on Newsnight. So he took the decision to abolish three departments. Justice was an easy one, because most people didn't even know there was a Department of Justice, and if they had known it existed, they wouldn't actually have known what it did. Tourism, Culture & Sport was easily shelved, because tourism, culture and sport were things which pretty much took care of themselves in life and would almost benefit from a lack of government interference. Then there was Rural Affairs & the Environment; well, bugger it, the environment was going to pot anyway and there was nothing a wee country like Scotland could do about it, and while there might be a few people who were put out about the removal of rural affairs from the government's agenda, they wouldn't be Labour voters anyway, so they could whistle
Dixie
.

So, JLM remained as First Minister. In a display of his own quirky sense of humour, Weirdlove promoted Patsy Morningirl to be Deputy First Minister. (She had been reluctant until Weirdlove told her she'd get to go on BBC Breakfast and Top of the Pops and the like.) Alisdair MacPherson had already been promoted into Education, where Weirdlove was confident he would do bugger all for the next three years. Eaglehawk and Hamish Robertson were already in place in Finance and Parliamentary Business respectively, and he couldn't really touch Winnie without having his eyeballs clawed out. So the only other new appointment was the wunderkind of the party, Darius Grey, into the bloody mire of Health, where he was confident that the enthusiastic young socialist would be sucked dry of political zeal to the point where he probably wouldn't even bother standing at the next election. Weirdlove often thought that there was nothing like taking the bright spark of political fervour, and then dousing it under the weight of red tape, bureaucracy, intransigence and unreasonable public expectation, to the point that the political zealot was sucked into the system and became everything he had set out to change.

So the line-up for the big special on BBC1 at 8pm was Jesse Longfellow-Moses, Minnie Longfellow-Moses, The Amazing Mr X, Parker Weirdlove, Barney Thomson, Dr Louise Farrow, the Rev Blake, Veron Veron, James Eaglehawk, Patsy Morningirl, Alisdair MacPherson, Winona Wanderlip, Darius Grey and Hamish Robertson. A magnificent band of cowboys to lead Scotland forward, to show its best face on live television, beamed around the world. Scotland the brave! Or, Scotland the fucking shambolic, whichever came out first.

Rebecca Blackadder had not turned up for the meeting. She'd had an angry confrontation with Parker Weirdlove at four o'clock in the morning, when she had told him how absurd and tasteless she thought the show was, given the news about Michael. The show must go on, Weirdlove had parroted. Blackadder had told him not to be so bloody stupid. Weirdlove had told her that she could leave JLM's employ any time she felt like it, and she'd said she'd be out by the Friday afternoon. Everyone was happy.

Weirdlove had had a similar conversation with Farrow, but in the end she had capitulated and agreed to the show. Dressed in black. Which was how she was attired as she sat waiting for Jesse Longfellow-Moses to arrive at the meeting.

None of the others seemed to have any particular thoughts on Father Michael.

***

'R
ight,' said Weirdlove, looking around the ranks of the assembled cabinet and JLM's team. 'The First Minister will be along shortly. He's going to say a few words, then we'll hand you over to Bing here,' and he indicated a man dressed in black, wearing preposterously stylish shades, from beneath which emerged thin and neatly carved sideboards. Bing Velure nodded and cocked a cool hand the way of the docu-saps. (Bing Velure wasn't his real name.)

'I don't think I need to emphasise to you all,' Weirdlove continued, 'the ball-breaking importance of tonight's show. The country is in grave need of reassurance. We present a united front, we stand behind Mr Longfellow-Moses as one. Some of you might be mourning the loss of Father Michael, but be that as it may, the guy is dead, his crimes are history. Today is a new day, today we start moving forward. A new cabinet in place, new ideas for the future, we stand behind the First Minister.'

The door opened and Jesse Longfellow-Moses walked assuredly into the room, wearing a Sunday grey suit, with a rather dashing purple handkerchief poking its nose above the jacket pocket. Veron Veron sizzled with quiet pride.

JLM stood before his collective audience, nodding and waiting for the tumult of genuflection to die down; which actually didn't take very long, what with it never even getting going 'n all.

'Thank you, thank you,' he said, thinking he was Sinatra playing Vegas, 'thank you for coming here today, and for giving your Friday over to this wonderful television broadcast.'

He looked around the crowd, smiling wholesomely. There were a couple of faces he didn't recognise, which he rightly took to be the new cabinet members; although he couldn't actually be sure that they hadn't already been in cabinet and he'd never noticed them.

'I don't need to tell you the importance of tonight's event,' he continued. 'The world will be watching. This is our chance to achieve greatness. To become a player, a respected voice of reason in a world gone mad. The world as one; hundreds of millions around the globe will tune in tonight to see democracy at work. Tonight we speak to the oppressed and the downtrodden. We speak to the free world as well as to the enslaved, and we speak with one voice. Scotland is great, Scotland can lead the way, the world can follow, follow Scotland, and every country on the planet can be led by our example, can do the things that we do, breathe the beautiful fresh air of freedom that we breathe, drink from the burbling waters of hope from which we drink! We shall show the world that we are kings, and the world will look up to us and fall at our feet in recognition of our majesty! The opportunity is there, if only we can reach out and grab it with both hands! We must take this chance, we must! Are you with me?'

They stared at him. One or two of the new kids on the block thought they should say or do something, so they kind of mumbled or nodded in agreement. Veron Veron looked upon his leader with wonder, thinking that the beauty of his speech befitted the beauty of the grey suit with protruding purple handkerchief. Winona Wanderlip wished that she had a gun she could pull out to, at the very least, kneecap the idiot. James Eaglehawk thought delicious thoughts of all the documented evidence he had against JLM, and of his moment of glory when he produced it live on television, of JLM's humiliation and embarrassment, and inevitable tears and resignation; and Eaglehawk also thought delicious thoughts of the two women who had remained in his company for more than four hours, and who had performed acts upon each other and upon him that had defied all the known fundamental laws of physical anatomy and mathematics. Barney Thomson had switched off, and was not listening anymore. He would do everybody's hair, make them look as ridiculous as possible, and then he would be gone, before the TV show broadcast had even begun.

'Champion,' said JLM in acknowledgement of the very lukewarm response to his world domination speech. 'Minnie and I are going off to have a working breakfast with Mr Bellows. We'll leave you in the capable hands of Mr Velure here, who should tell you everything you need to know. Any questions? No, lovely. Champion,' he added, clasping his hands together and walking swiftly from the room. Minnie eyed the crowd with a knowing look, and followed in his wake. JLM had done everything to try and get Bellows alone for the working breakfast, but Minnie had pulled the usual threats about exposing him for everything that he'd done, and he'd been forced to concede her a major part in the whole thing. If he was going to be King, she was going to be Empress Queen of the Universe.

***

'N
ice speech from your boss fella there,' said Bing Velure, addressing the crowd, 'but I wouldn't all go peeing in your pants if I were you lot. The show is only occasionally picked up outside the UK, and it's a dead cert this one won't be. Home viewing figures can be sensational, but for filler shows like this one, we'll be lucky if we crack a million at the start, and even luckier if anyone at all is watching by the end. No one gives a shit about your guy here, so let's use that as a starting point. Everyone cool with that?' he asked, pointing his loaded index fingers at the audience. There were a few nods of agreement from the crowd.

'Would it help if I got my tits out?' said Patsy Morningirl, raising her hand.

'Are you anyone?' asked Velure. He'd noticed Morningirl already, of course.

'I'm the new, em, what is it again?' she said, looking at Weirdlove.

'Deputy First Minister,' said Weirdlove to Velure, who smiled.

'That would be G-R-E-A-T great, darlin',' he said. 'I'll maybe need to check out your breasts beforehand just to make sure they're suitable, but yeah, breasts are going to be great for the show. Mandy,' he said, turning to his assistant, a straight-backed girl in this year's spectacles, 'get that out to the media as soon as we're done here.'

'Totally,' she said.

'Right,' said Velure, turning back to his public, 'maybe the audience figures won't be so bad after all. Anyone got anything else they think can boost the figures, let me know.' He looked speculatively around the crowd. No one volunteered anything in the 1.3 seconds he gave them, albeit one or two, including Eaglehawk, decided they'd have a word in private later. 'Right, we run a tight ship here. No one talks for more than the allotted time. In fact, some of you people just have to accept that you're window dressing, zip, that's it. You get your hair done, you put on your best clobber, and schtoom. You don't like it, you take your complaints to Mr Weirdlove here. The majority of the piece is going to be with Longfellow-Moses. On top of that, we'll have a few minutes with Wanderlip,' and he looked quizzically around the crowd, until Winnie raised a desultory hand. 'Excellent,' he said, 'yeah, you're like nothing to look at, but with a bit of lippy and some decent garb you're gonna scrub up all right.'

Wanderlip bit one of her lips, the top one, and stared at the floor. The old familiar feelings of anger were beginning to rise inside her. Mandy leant towards Velure, whispered something in his ear, and dropped back down into her seat.