Ministerial Diary: Day 7

Just 18 hours after the Bill is passed I get a call from Chloe.

“The tiger’s been caught,” she said, “well done.”

The Man phoned almost immediately afterwards. “What a triumph,” he said, “it was your Bill that did it, no doubt about it, just a day after it’s passed and the tiger’s safely back in its cage. You must be very proud.”

“Thank you,” I said, “I’m pleased a well, it will be good to see things get back to normal. I’ll see you this afternoon,” I said at the end of our five minute chat, referring to the planned Cabinet meeting.

“Oh no,” he said, “you’re not in the Cabinet anymore, you’re no longer a Minister. I did say it was just a temporary job, until the tiger was caught.”

So I say goodbye to my Ministerial salary, my red boxes, my bodyguards, my office, my Westminster home. I’m a backbencher again, back to having less influence than the Health Minister’s tobacconist.

To the Home Office by taxi, to pick up my personal effects. They’re waiting for me in a shoebox, no sign of Chloe, Nigel or anyone else. I depart with no fanfare, no celebration, no goodbyes.

All I can do now is sit by the phone and await news of the next reshuffle. After all, the Man did promise me a job. Transport would be good, or the Foreign Office, though I’ll take whatever he offers. I wonder what he has in mind for me.