Who Is Jack Winter?

A short story at the moment around 6000 words, but might just turn into something more substantial.



He heard his name called but his body was incapable of movement.


A hand violently shook his shoulder from behind. He opened his eyes.

“Jack, for fucks sake, it’s almost eight. I need to go!”

Jack Winter looked around the room. His eyes trying to focus. It felt as though a bee had stung his nose and throat. He was aware of a woman getting out of his bed and putting on clothes.

“Don’t just lay there you moron! Call me a cab, I need to get home!”

He rubbed his eyes and turned to face her. For a split second she stopped dressing and looked straight at him.

“Jesus, you look like shit.”

He didn’t argue for two reasons. Firstly, he couldn’t speak and secondly the woman was probably right. His right hand reached over to a bedside table and picked up his mobile. He dialled a number and gave the phone to the woman.

“Urgent cab please. From 124 Belmont Place going over to Wandsworth.”

Then quickly added.

“On Mister Jack Winters account.”

He vaguely heard her say something about helping herself to her fee from his wallet. He didn’t care, she could take what she liked. The company would end up paying for her anyway. Seconds later he heard the front door slam shut.

Thank fuck, she was gone.

He heaved his heavy bulk up from the bed and sat up straight. His fat belly covering his manhood. He urgently needed to urinate but the effort seemed too great. He reasoned that pissing in his pants whilst sitting on the bed wasn’t a great option and was a lot less disgusting than pissing on the bathroom floor. He knew he’d never make it all the way to the toilet. He was right. With his pants around his ankles he waddled his way along the hallway and started to piss just as he opened the bathroom door. Fucking prostate!

His cock span around like an out of control garden hose, spraying warm pee everywhere. Eventually he managed to grab it and point it at the basin. He stood there for a full ten minutes. His eyes were open but saw nothing. He heard his phone ring. Fuck, it was in the bedroom.

He walked out of the bathroom pulling up his wet pants as he did so. He answered the call but didn’t speak. A voice spoke to him.

“Sir, you told me to call you at eight o’clock so that’s what I’m doing. The car will come for you in an hour.”

He mumbled “Phanks.” Then switched the phone off.

He had an hour. An hour to get himself ready for the day ahead. An hour to become the person that everyone thought he was.

Coffee. That’s what he needed, strong black coffee then a cold shower. He fired up the expresso machine in his kitchen and waited.  The three minutes it took seemed like a lifetime. Once poured he drank it down.  It was hot but he didn’t care. Three cups took nine minutes. The caffeine was like a shot of vodka and hit his system in the same way. He felt the buzz, the rush. He was almost ready.

He walked back along the hallway and into the bathroom, he slipped on the piss on the floor. He sat there for a moment and looked around him. His name was Jack Winter, he was forty six years old, divorced twice, had just spent four hundred and fifty quid on a hooker and was now sitting in a puddle of his own piss. He laughed. Who the fuck was he?

He stood up took off his pants and walked into the shower. He turned on the cold tap. The freezing water make his entire body shiver. He didn’t bother with shampoo or soap, just let the water cleanse him. After a few minutes he turned off the tap and stepped out. As he was drying himself he noticed something on the windowsill. A small plastic pouch with tablets inside. It was like seeing an old friend again after a few years apart. He didn’t know the names for these pills. He really didn’t care. He just knew that after taking them he felt on top of the world. Blues and greens was what he called them because of their colours. She must have brought them with her last night. The girls usually did. They knew what he liked and they knew he didn’t care what he paid.

He poured a glass of water and swallowed the pills. It would take about twenty minutes for them to kick in but when they did WOW!

He stood in front of the mirror naked. The sight before him wasn’t pretty. His body was out of control. His waist was now three inches bigger than his chest. Luckily he could afford to have his shirts and suits made for him. The company paid of course, everything went down as expenses. He grabbed a white shirt out of the wardrobe and a blue tie. He put on a clean pair of pants and then chose a dark blue pinstriped suit. Socks and black brogues completed the outfit.

He slicked his hair back with gel and squirted after shave onto his hands. He slapped his cheeks hard with both palms. The tablets had kicked in. He was ready. Jack Winter now felt like he was King Of the world.

He put on his Omega wristwatch and saw that the time was ten to nine. Perfect. He had a meeting with some chink at the office at nine thirty. The car would be downstairs and he had only a short distance to travel.

He closed the door of his company paid flat, walked down a flight of stairs and into the cold fresh air. The black car was waiting as always.  He walked towards it and smiled at the middle aged man in the dark suit that was standing by the open back door. The man spoke to him with a slight northern accent.

“Good morning Minister. You have a meeting with the Chinese ambassador at the house in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you Roger. Best be on our way then.”

He sat in the back of the Limousine and smiled. Jack Winter had now become the person they all wanted him to be.


The Chinese ambassador, Lin Fang, sat opposite Jack Winter in an oversized leather armchair. He was a small man and the large chair made him look like a child. His little legs weren’t long enough to reach the floor so they just swung in the air. Winter on the other hand was a big man, he filled his chair. He also sat on two cushions so that he was much higher than Lin Fang. It made him feel powerful, in control.

The ambassador was reading from a file labelled “Proposed Trading Embargoes and Taxes.” After a few minutes he looked up and shook his head.

“Mister Winter, I think it would be very unwise of you to carry out these proposals. We would have to retaliate of course and then impose our own.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders and had an apologetic look on his face.

“I know, I know, Lin. But the Foreign Secretary and the PM are all for it. They think that there are just too many Chinese imports coming in and you fellows just aren’t taking enough of our goods.”

“But your good are far too expensive, we can buy cheaper elsewhere. It does not make good economic sense for us to buy them at a high price. My country has an enormous appetite for consumer goods but they have to be at the right price Mister Winter. If you enforce some kind of Import tax on our goods then we will simply stop any of your goods coming into our country.”

Jack Winter smiled.

“You see Lin, that’s just my point. It would hurt you much more than me because you have much more to lose. If we stopped buying Chinese goods think of the impact it would have on your economy. If truth be known, you rely heavily on our trade.”

There was an uneasy silence for a brief moment. Jack stood up and wandered over to a large oak cabinet.

“Can I offer you a glass of twelve year old malt Lin?”

The ambassador looked at his watch. It was nine forty five.

“It’s a little early for me Mister Winter.”

“Nonsense Lin. It’s never too early for a good scotch!”

He opened up the cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and two crystal glasses. He filled them both with the golden liquid.

“It’s my birthday today Lin.”

The ambassador smiled.

“Many happy returns Mister Winter. In which case I will toast your health.”

Jack handed him a glass.


They touched glasses. Jack downed the contents in one large gulp. The ambassador decided it would be good manners to do the same. Jack sat back down, but before he did he refilled the ambassador’s glass.

“I hear you are refurbishing the embassy later this year Lin, sounds like a big job, must come to a large sum, have you awarded the contract yet?”

Lin Fang looked confused. They had been in the middle of talking about proposed trade embargos and now Jack Winter was asking him about the embassy.

“Err yes Mister Winter. September I believe. Not really my priority though to be honest.”

“Ah but it should be Lin. First impressions and all that. When people come into the Embassy they should feel impressed, it should have a sense of grandeur, the way it looks is very important. All of these things can be achieved with the right furnishings. So then. Have you awarded the contract yet?”

“No, I think we are still at the Tender stage.”

“Good, good. Let me give you the name and number of a HIGHLY recommended company. The owner is a personal friend of mine and would be EXTREMELY grateful for the opportunity to be included in the Tender.”

He gave a business card to the Ambassador.

“Thank you Mister Winter. Now about these proposed trade embargos. As I said before it would be very unwise for your government to try to go through with any such ideas, because…”

Jack butted in before he could continue.

“I am sure that I can persuade my superiors to think again about them, especially in light of the fact that you MAY be giving a very large furniture order to a good friend of ours in September. Does your wife drive Lin?”

Again Lin Fang looked confused.

“Yes she does. Why?”

“Does she have a Porsche?”

“No, she drives a Nissan.”

“Well, well, we can’t have that now can we. I think she’d look rather fetching in a Porsche, don’t you?”

The Ambassador nodded. The two whisky’s had made him rather light headed. He began to realise what Jack Winter was implying.

“Yes, yes, she would. A red one. She’d look very good in a red one!”

“Perfect. I think we can safely say that the proposed trade embargos will go away, you will have excellent new furniture in your Embassy and Mrs Fang will look great driving a Red Porsche in September.”

Jack stood up and stuck out his hand. The meeting was over.

As soon as the room was empty Jack Winter took the file and put it into his briefcase, he then removed a phone from his pocket and dialled a number.

“Hi Patrick, expect a call from a Lin Fang from the Chinese embassy. I’ve managed to get you onto the Tender list. Don’t fuck it up. I’ve told him you’ll get his wife a Porsche once you’ve been awarded the contract. We’ll talk about my cut later when you buy me lunch at the club. See you at seven. Don’t be fucking late!”

He hung up just as his assistant, Roger Dumfries, walked in.

“How did it go Minister?”

“Excellent thank you Roger. I’ve convinced the Chinese not to go ahead with any trade embargoes against us. Can you make sure that the Foreign Secretary and the PM know about this ASAP?”

“Of course Minister. What on earth were they thinking of trying to impose a tax on our exports, it would cripple us. The PM and the Foreign Secretary will be very pleased.””

“And so they should be Roger. It took a lot of persuading I can tell you. The ambassador wasn’t going to back down but I managed to save the day.”

“Well done Minister.”

Roger Dumfries noticed the whisky bottle and the two empty glasses on the table. Jack noticed the disapproving look on his face.

“Bloody Chinese. I asked him if he would like a coffee and the cheeky bugger asked me if I had anything stronger. He came out with some nonsense about it being his birthday. I thought it wise just to go along with it. You know what these Chinese are like about manners.”

Roger smiled and nodded his approval.

“Smart move Minister. Especially as you were trying to get them on our side.”

Roger turned and walked out of the room. Jack waited for the door to close then poured himself another glass full of scotch. He took some blues and greens out of his inside pocket and put them in his mouth then washed them down with the malt.

The scotch and the pills had its usual effect. He felt a stirring inside his pants. He needed to go to the executive toilets next door and have his mid- morning wank.

The day was going according to plan…


He straightened his tie and looked at himself in the mirror. There was a slight trace of some white powder around his left nostril. He rubbed his nose violently to make sure it was gone. There was only so many times he could pretend he’d just been eating doughnuts. Okay good to go.

Charles Winthorpe, the Foreign Secretary, wanted to see him in ten minutes. He always felt a sense of anticipation whenever he was summoned to his boss’s office. He hoped it was good news, but if it wasn’t he was always prepared. Jack Winter was a survivor.

He wasn’t a big fan of his boss and he was certain that the feeling was mutual. They had nothing in common. Charles was a tall, thin, silver haired man in his early sixties who went jogging everyday to keep fit. He’d been married for over forty years to his wife Margaret. They had three grown up children. He was an old school politician. He came from a wealthy family, went to Eton, then on to Cambridge. He’d never done a proper days work in his life. His father was the retired Chairman of a household name insurance company.

Jack, on the other hand, was tall but overweight. They only exercise he took was when he was pumping away at a four hundred pound a night hooker.  He had two failed marriages behind him and no children. He was from a working class family, his Dad worked at Billingsgate fish market, his mum was a housewife. He’d gone to a grammar school in Stratford, not Shakespeare country, but Stratford in East London. He went to University, but it wasn’t Oxford or Cambridge but Essex in Colchester. Their lives couldn’t be farther apart.

There was one thing in particular that Jack hated about Charles Winthorpe. He insisted on being called Sir or Foreign Secretary. This grated with Jack. It reminded him of being back at school and Charles Winthorpe being the Headmaster. He hated his Headmaster. That cunt caned him once a month for four years.

Ten minutes later he was knocking on the door of Charles office. He didn’t wait to be called in. He knocked once and then entered.

“Ah Jack, Jack, good to see you. Come in and take a seat.”

“Thank you Sir, good to see you as well.”

Charles was sitting behind his over- sized mahogany desk in a large leather chair. Jack sat down opposite him in a chair much smaller.

“Good work with the Chinese Ambassador this morning Jack. Who the hell do they think they are even thinking of proposing embargoes on our exports? Anyone would think they ruled the bloody world!”

Jack smiled.

“I think you’ll find they probably do sir.”

“Yes, yes, quite. I expect you’re right their Jack. Anyway, that’s not why I asked to see you. The PM is having a re-shuffle in a couple of weeks and has asked for my opinion on a few appointments. I just wanted to tell you myself that I won’t be recommending you for promotion to the front benches. I think you’re doing a splendid job where you are as Minister for International Affairs. Besides you’re still young Jack and still learning. I was well in my fifties before I got into the cabinet so you’ve still got plenty of time. Hope you’re not too disappointed Jack but that’s just the way it is.”

He stood up and put out his hand for Jack to shake. As far as he was concerned the meeting was now over and Jack Winter was being dismissed.

Jack continued sitting. The trump card that he’d been saving was about to be played.

“Ever heard the name Raymond DuPont sir?”

The Foreign Secretary removed his hand and sat back down. He looked as though he was about to have a heart attack. His faced drained of colour and went a funny shade of beige. He seemed to have lost the power of speech.

“You see sir, unlike you, I didn’t go to Eton. I went to Stratford grammar school. It was there that I met Shaun Roberts. Me and Sean became best mates, still are today. Shaun now works as a reporter for the Daily Mail. He has this story that he ran by me a short time ago. Want to hear it CHARLES?”

The Foreign Secretary didn’t say a word. He just nodded his head slightly.

“Good. It seems that there is a MALE senior cabinet minister having an affair with a young French art student called Raymond DuPont.  He visits Raymond at his flat in Highgate twice a week. My friend Shaun has a number of photographs of these two men in various compromising situations. Nothing wrong with this of course in this day and age but the problem is this MALE senior cabinet minister is married and has three grown up daughters. He is also very close to the PM, and, as we both know, the PM is very big on FAMILY VALUES. We were both there when he gave his speech about sleaze, corruption and scandal. I remember him being very specific about the consequences of ANYONE on our side being caught in anything that was even slightly dodgy. He even said those same words in his latest Party Political Broadcast on the television just a few days ago. Wouldn’t it be a travesty if it came to light that a very close and trusted friend of his was cheating on his wife with a young man forty years his junior?”

The words came slowly out of Charles mouth.

“Yes I suppose it would.”

“I have the power to make that story and the photographs go away and never come back CHARLES.”

The only words that Charles Winthorpe could think of saying at this time were “Thank you.”

“Now then about that promotion. I would be very pleased to get on the front benches at last. What position I’m given is, of course, up to the PM but I would expect a glowing recommendation from you CHARLES old son.”

Jack stood up and put out his hand to The Foreign Secretary. It was grabbed quickly and shook firmly.

“Thank you.”

Jack turned and walked away. As he got to the door he turned and looked at Charles Winthorpe. He looked at least ten years older than he had when Jack first walked in.

“Just one more thing. From this day on I’ll be called you Charlie. Okay?”

Charles Winthorpe’s head nodded like a toy dog in a back of a car.

“Yes Jack. Of course.”


12.45 and Jack Winter was back in his office drinking his third glass of Malt Whiskey. He’d told his assistant, Roger Dumfries, that he was not to be disturbed until 2.00pm as he had an urgent meeting to prepare for. This was bollocks of course as he desperately needed Scotch, 2 lines of coke and a couple of blues and greens. This cocktail should keep him going until he met Patrick at the club later.

He sat back and reviewed his morning. So far so good. He’d done a deal with the Chinese which should make him a couple of hundred grand. He’d PERSUADED the Foreign secretary to recommend him to the PM for a cabinet position. He’d also managed to fit in a wank and take enough drugs to sedate the whole of his constituency in Essex.

It wasn’t long before everything started to kick in. He felt good, alive, powerful, and far too energetic to sit through some committee meeting this afternoon. He called Roger.

“I’ve got to get back to Essex. Something’s come up. Some crisis that could get out of hand.”

“Oh, okay Minister. I’ll get my case and meet you outside.”

“No bother Roger. I need you to stay here and attend the committee meeting for me. It will be good experience for you, a chance to get your face known to a wider circle of influential people.”

He loved playing up to Roger’s ego.

“Thank you Minister. I really appreciate your support. I’ll give you a full de-brief in the morning.”

He smiled. Roger was good, loyal, but he was also a complete wanker.

Now he needed to ring two numbers. He rang the first.

“Patrick, fancy meeting at the club a bit earlier? I’m leaving the House now.  I’ll be there in half an hour.”

The second was going to be a little treat for him and Patrick.

“Hi Lou, it’s Jack. I need a few girls for this afternoon. Give me four Latino looking ones. You know the type, olive skin, big brown eyes. Get them to the club in an hour.”

Job done. This afternoon he’d let his hair down for a while. Let a couple of girls spoil him. Louise was a trusted Madame at the very best agency in London and her girls were all stunners. He’d make up something on his expenses to pay for it. It would be around three grand for the girls for the afternoon so he’d have to use his imagination but that was one thing he wasn’t short of.

The “club” was just a short cab ride from Westminster. It wasn’t really a club at all, just a private room above The Strangers Arms near Farringdon tube station. Thirty minutes later he was paying a cab driver and walking into the pub.

“Afternoon Jack, everything is ready upstairs. On your own or expecting company?”

Stanley Reynolds was an old friend from his University days. He’d lent Stan the money to buy the leasehold of the pub five years ago. He was in no hurry to be paid back. All he really wanted in return was a safe, quiet, private place where he could do as he pleased. There were only a handful of people trusted enough to know about The Club. It was strictly Invitation only.

“Thanks Stan. Patrick should be arriving soon. We might have some female company a bit later. Just send them up when they arrive.”

They both smiled as Jack mentioned the female company. He walked up the steep flight of stairs and made a mental note to try to lose a bit of weight. He was out of breath by the time he turned the key in the door of the room marked PRIVATE.

He loved “The Club”. It felt more like home than his London flat. It was one large living space with a small toilet and shower room at one end. The main room was equipped with everything he wanted. There was a waist high antique oak sideboard underneath one of the large windows. On its highly polished top were 3 different bottles of malt Whiskey, 3 different bottles of Gin, 3 different bottles of Vodka. Beside these were crystal glasses of all shapes and sizes. Next to this was a fridge stocked with every conceivable soft drink. But most importantly it contained his blues and greens and half a kilo of cocaine.

There were 3 large leather settees that formed a “U” shape in the middle of the room; they faced a giant flat screen television that hung on the back wall.

Jack walked over to the cabinet and poured himself a tumbler full of Glenlivet. He heard the door open behind him.

“Jack you smooth talking bastard, guess who just rang me?”

He turned and saw Patrick.

“The Chinese ambassador by any chance?”

“Got it in one old son. Wants me to tender for the refurb. Even fucking told me how much to charge so we win the contract!”

“And? Whats it come to?”

“£1.6 million. But of course there’ll be extras. There always are on those types of jobs. Unforeseen costs, snags, problems. I think it’ll round up to a cool two mill.”

“Now that Patrick is a deal well done. To celebrate I’ve ordered us up a few girlies for the afternoon. Should be here soon. Scotch?”

“Why not, I think we’ve earned it.”

He poured another for himself and one for Patrick. He opened the fridge door and took out two silver bowls. Each contained what looked like M and M’s. One dish had blue ones and the other greens.

“Care for something from the sweet trolley Pat?”

They both laughed out loud.

“Don’t mind if I do Jack.”

Patrick took two of each and washed them down with the scotch. Jack did the same.

They sat down on one of the large leather sofas. Patrick shook his head from side to side as the effects started to work.

“Any idea what’s in these little fuckers Jack?”

“None whatsoever. All I know is that they make me feel great and as horny as fuck!”

There was a knock on the door. Jack smiled at Patrick.

“The re-enforcements have arrived. Come in!”

Four girls entered the room. Average age was around twenty four or twenty five. Each one with long dark hair and brown eyes. They could have been from Italy, Spain or South America. Jack didn’t care. They were exactly what he’d ordered.

“Okay girls, get yourselves a drink, and help yourself to whatever you want from the fridge. Then get yourselves naked and come and sit with us.”

The girls giggled but did what they were told. Within ten minutes Jack Winter was naked and was being given the best blow job he’d ever had from two very attentive young women. He looked over at Patrick. There was naked flesh everywhere. He couldn’t quite work out what was what and who was who.

“Oh yeh. Oh yeh. That’s it babe. That’s it.”

His phone rang. He ignored it. It stopped. It rang again. He ignored it. It rang again. This time he reached over and picked it up. He didn’t recognise the number. Something told him it might be important. He looked down at the girls.

“Don’t stop. Carry on.”

He answered the call.

“Jack Winter. How can I help?”

“Jack it’s Harold Simpson.”

Jack tried to focus. The pills were making him drowsy. The girls sucking on his cock were making it hard to concentrate. He took a deep breath and tried hard not to slur his words.

“Hello Prime Minister.”

“Jack I thought you were in the House this afternoon but understand you’ve had to go back to Essex for some urgent constituency work.”

“Yes Prime Minister.”

“I need to see you Jack. Today. I’ve just had a long chat with the Foreign Secretary and I’ve had an idea that I think you’ll like. Can you come back to the House Jack? “

The younger one of the two girls was doing something quite unbelievable with her tongue. He was finding it hard to concentrate. He heard himself saying.

“Of course Prime Minister. I’m coming. I’m coming right now!”


He stood in the shower. The cold water hit his body hard making it sting. He hadn’t had a warm shower in years. Warm showers tended to make him drowsy. Cold water woke him up, made his body shiver. He called this his “shaking phase”. It was like every organ in his body was been shaken into life. He liked the “shaking phase.”

The girls had gone and Patrick was asleep on one of the sofas.

He put on his “emergency outfit” that he kept at the club. This was a full set of spare clothes, shoes, socks, pants, shirt, suit, and tie. He often used the emergency set. It was quite common for his clothes to end up covered in various bodily fluids, not always his own.

After two lines of coke hit his system he was ready to leave. Patrick was still naked and snoring as he shut the door.

The PM had said “The House” and not “Number 10” so he headed back to Parliament and for the PM’s private chambers.

He was greeted by Stephen Wilkes, the PM’s private secretary.

“Hi Jack. Good you could come back so soon. Everything okay back in Essex?”

“Yes, all sorted. Storm in a teacup really.”

“Good, good. Look, I’ll give you the heads up. This morning the PM had a long chat with the Foreign Secretary. Your name came up a number of times. All good stuff Jack so no need to be nervous. He’s waiting for you in his office.”

“Thanks Stephen.”

Jack shook his hand and noticed how limp it was. It was like holding the hand of a dead man. He hated that sort of handshake and the people that gave them. It made him want to vomit.

He knocked on the oak panelled door. A voice boomed from inside.

“Come in!”

Harold Simpson was sitting on his desk. Not behind it on a chair. But actually sitting on top of it with his legs folded. He looked like he was doing some kind of yoga.

“Jack, Jack, good to see you and thanks for coming so promptly. Don’t mind me, I do this for fifteen minutes every day, helps with circulation and muscle tone. Come and sit down Jack. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

He did as he was told and took a seat next to the PM’s desk.

There was silence for a full three minutes. The PM had his eyes closed during this time. Then suddenly he seemed to spring to life and literally jumped off the desk.

“Wow, always feel amazing after that. You should try it sometime Jack. It’s really beneficial.”

Jack thought that half a bottle of scotch, two lines of coke and two blues and greens would have the same effect.

“Might need a bigger desk, Prime Minister.”

The PM laughed. A natural laugh that was infectious. Jack found himself laughing as well.

“I expect you’re wondering why I wanted to see you so urgently.”

“Yes, Prime Minister. I hope everything is okay. Hope I haven’t let the party down in some way?”

The PM was striding round his office. He’d heard rumours that he was always on the move, even during cabinet meetings he would walk and talk at the same time. Some of the cabinet actually called him “Strider” in secret.

“No, no, nothing like that Jack, quite the contrary actually. I’m off to Afghanistan in an hour’s time. Surprise visit for the troops, good for moral and all that and I wanted us to have this chat before I leave. You probably know already that I’m planning a cabinet re-shuffle when I return and I wanted to have everything in place for when I get back.”

He stopped walking and looked straight at Jack.

“Up for a challenge Jack?”

Jacks mind was racing. He’d obviously frightened the life out of Charles Winthorpe earlier with his blackmail threat so his plan was working. He was hoping for Trade and Industry. He knew with his contacts he could make a small fortune from that appointment.

“Of course Prime Minister, glad to help in any way I can.”

“That’s the spirit Jack, Charles said you were a good man. Before I go any further I just need to confirm a few details, that okay Jack?”

“Of course.”

“As you know I’m very big on traditional family values. You’ve been married and divorced twice Jack. Can I ask what the circumstances were on those occasions?”

“Indeed Prime Minister. I met my first wife Elaine when we were both at University, we married when we were both twenty two. We were both ambitious people and looking back now we were never really suited. We divorced three years later. I haven’t seen Elaine for twenty years now.”

That was a lie of course. Elaine had caught him in bed with their next door neighbour. The divorce had at first been messy but in the end they divorced due to irreconcilable difference once Jack had threatened to disclose her drug taking at university to her new employers.

“And the second marriage Jack?”

“I met Shirley when I was thirty six and was a councillor for Havering. We both desperately wanted children but found out that we both had problems in that department. It put a terrible strain on the marriage and in time we drifted apart. We divorced very amicably four years later. I still see her from time to time. She’s re-married and is very happy.”

Another lie. Shirley hated his guts. She’d once held a carving knife to his throat and threatened to stab him in the neck if he didn’t stop sleeping with hookers. Their marriage had been one of convenience for both of them. He needed to look respectable to get into government and she thought she might one day become a Ministers wife. In the end she got fed up with his womanising, drug taking and drinking.

“I’m very pleased to hear that Jack. I just wanted to know so that there are no surprises that could come out and bite us later on.”

Now the PM sat down at his desk and once again looked straight at Jack.

“Tony Blair was Prime Minister for ten years and won three Elections. Want to know my theory on WHY Jack?”

Jack just nodded.

“Because he appealed to everyone. He was a bit of old labour, a bit of new labour, a bit Liberal and a big chunk of Conservatism. He also surrounded himself with people that appealed to certain sections of the public. Who do you think I believe was his biggest asset?”

“Gordon Brown?”

“No Jack. Most people didn’t like Gordon Brown. His biggest asset was John Prescott!”


“Oh yes Jack. It was a stroke of brilliance making him Deputy Prime Minister. He and Blair were chalk and cheese. Blair was immaculate, fit, spoke well, super cool, trendy. Prescott was well…none of those things. But he appealed to a lot of people Jack. A lot of good honest working class people. They liked his rough and ready approach, his no nonsense style. He looked like normal people do. He was overweight, he drank beer and ate pies and smacked people in the mouth from time to time. With Prescott at his side, Blair won in 2001 and again in 2005. We have an election next year Jack. I want you to be my John Prescott. I want you to be my new Deputy Prime Minister!”

Jack heard the words being said but they were taking time to sink in. This was more than he could have hoped for. Did he really say DEPUTY PRIME MINISTER?

Harold Simpson thrust out his hand.

“We’ll make a good team Jack. Me and you. Say yes and help me win the next election.”

Jack took his hand and grasped it firmly.

“I’d be glad to accept the position Prime Minister.”

For the next five minutes Jack was in a state of shock. The PM talked about making him Secretary Of State for the Environment as well, just as Blair had done to Prescott in 1997. He agreed with everything. Details would be sorted when the PM came back from Afghanistan and the announcement would be in seven days’ time.

Jack made his way back to his own office. It was now quite late and the halls were quiet. He sat down at his desk with a tumbler full of scotch and his thoughts. At the beginning of the day he remembered sitting in a pool of his own piss thinking about who he was. He knew he was an alcoholic, a drug addict, a sexual deviant, a compulsive liar, and a blackmailer. But who was Jack Winter really?

Easy. Jack Winter was the new Deputy Prime Minster for United Kingdom!











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