liz truss x priti patel: the complete story

22. January 2022

"3, 2, 1..." Liz and Priti chanted quietly as they watched the countdown from their hotel room. 

Priti leaned in to kiss her as the clock struck midnight, the sound of cheers and nearby fireworks in the background. For a moment the chaos of the last month, even the last year, seemed to melt away.

 "Happy new year." Liz said. 

"Happy new year." Priti smiled. "This will be our best year. I can feel it." 

"What was wrong with last year?"

"Are you forgetting lockdown?" 

"I had actually." Liz laughed as Priti pulled her closer. 

"This situation with Boris will be over soon, and then it can be just us again, out of the spotlight."

Liz nodded half-heartedly, kissing her again to hide her lack of enthusiasm. 

"Come to bed." Priti said, taking Liz's hand. 

*

But the high wouldn't last for long. 

The start of the year saw the highest number of daily cases reported, but again being completely out of their depth, the government's new strategy was to 'live alongside the virus', for the mere reason that they couldn't be bothered with it anymore. By the end of the month the remaining measures would expire, and even his own backbenchers were asking the Prime Minister how the country was actually going to live with the virus. But the government had spent so long attacking the Labour Party for having 'no plans' that they'd failed to come up with their own.

Warnings predicted up to 25% of the workforce could be absent. Rubbish bags piled up in the streets without enough workers to collect them. The number of people on hospital waiting lists was inching towards 6 million as NHS staff absences increased threefold since December. The government had the genius idea of temporarily filling them with military personnel, known for their bedside manner.

***

Cummings finalised another blog post as he sipped a glass of red wine, before pressing send. He leaned back in his chair, sighing in satisfaction. Now we wait, he thought.

There it was: news of another party in May 2020. An email invitation to drinks in the Downing Street gardens, telling over 100 recipients to 'bring their own booze'. Another email warning that it was against the rules, disregarded. 

Boris sat in his office, messages from his own MPs piling up, urging him to confirm if he attended. He was desperate to return to the comforting feeling of dishonesty, but after the leaking of the picture, and Dominic's continuous and unpredictable release of information, he couldn't be sure there wasn't evidence of his presence this time too. Instead he would go for the second best option, admitting he was there, but with a little white lie slipped in, just to take the edge off.

*

Women and Equalities questions had fallen before PMQ's, and it was with anticipation that Liz staggered through. Priti took the seat next to her, laying a comforting hand quickly on hers before the Prime Minister stood, trying to put on his most solemn voice.

"Mr Speaker, I want to apologise. I know that millions of people across this country have made extraordinary sacrifices over the lats 18 months. There are things that we simply did not get right and I must take responsibility. No.10 is a big department with the garden as an extension of the office, which has been in constant use because of the role of fresh air in stopping the spread of the virus. And when I went into that garden just after 6pm on 20 May 2020-" Liz gulped at the mention. "-I believed implicitly that this was a work event. But Mr Speaker, with hindsight I should have sent everyone back inside. Even if it could be said technically to fall within the guidance-" Boos from the opposite bench, maybe a few from his own. "-there would be millions and millions of people who simply would not see it that way."