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  “Sir, we can’t send volunteers to North Korea, we need professionals. God forbid, we’re stretched in Afghanistan as it is and the Falklands…Think of the bloody Falklands!’

  “Keep your voice down, man, there’s a president somewhere in Argentina who’s not heard you.”

  Hamilton took a sip from his tea cup. “Prime Minister, it would be better if we waited until after the election before cutting anymore meat from the bone.”

  Sterling span on his chair again. “Afghanistan, Falklands, North Korea, deficit. What am I missing? Oh yes, Scotland. Anything else?”

  Bells looked up from her pad. “You have the American President this afternoon, Prime Minister.”

  “Phil, do you ever get the feeling we came to power at the wrong time? Cleaning up the fucking mess the last lot left.” He glanced at Bells. “Did Jan iron my basketball shorts?”

  BBC1 - Look North, Yorkshire

  2 November 2014, 13:30

  A tired Phil Bodmer is at the Great George Street entrance of the Leeds General Infirmary.

  It’s been a long night and I’ve been here the whole time awaiting fresh developments. I can confirm that the lights have been off throughout the night and so I can only conclude that the power has been off also. However, at around 02:30 in the morning, armed police arrived and immediately went to work setting up a cordon. The perimeter has in the last 30 minutes been pushed outwards and consequently, nobody can now gain access to the hospital or its grounds. You will see one armed officer in the background of your screens. I can also confirm that as of yet, nobody has been brought out from the hospital under arrest but of course, as soon as any news comes in…

  Shouts can be heard coming from the armed officer. They are muffled due to the distance. A man in hospital gown drags himself toward the shouts. He trails a drip stand and saline solution behind him. More shouts and the man reaches out for the officer’s face and bites his throat. Phil Bodmer turns back to the camera, his tired features giving way to horror.

  I’m not sure what we’ve just witnessed but I don’t think interviewing that chap would be well advised. I…I…I think I can see more people walking from the hospital. Oh God…

  The man in the gown stoops down and appears to be cannibalising the officer. Within seconds, several more people, some in gowns, some in white coats and some in police uniform are approaching the Look North news crew.

  Ok, we’re leaving…We’re leaving!

  Four

  President Shaka Bankole bounced the ball between two students, took aim and went for the shot. The ball hit the backboard and rebounded through the hoop.

  Sterling ran toward the President with a raised hand, bracing for the high five, which the President duly gave. “Was that a slam dunk or a dunkin’ slam?”

  “That was a three-pointer, David.” The President paraded before the gathered media and made the three-point hand sign, grinning as the flashes turned the room into a light show. “I believe that’s game to the Prime Minister and myself.” He approached the two black opponents and shook their hands. “Thanks for not showing us up, you guys should pose for photos, something to treasure.”

  The two students faced the cameras with Sterling and Bankole on either side. The President placed an arm around the boy closest to him so Sterling did the same, albeit somewhat awkwardly. Once more, the flashes illuminated the room.

  Bells chose her moment and approached Sterling. “Sir, looks like we have a serious problem in Leeds. Downing Street says they’re rioting again.”

  “Rioting? They sure pick their bloody moment, don’t they?” He panted and tried to shield the conversation from the President. “Look Bells, I can’t deal with this now, you’ll have to hold on.”

  The two leaders left the court and walked through the youth centre with a media circus grasping close behind. Sterling jabbed a thumb at the pool table, balls already set up, with two black female students, holding cues, awaiting them. “Ah, I hear sisters are doing it for themselves now.” Sterling jibed, taking hold of a cue and passing another to Bankole.

  The President searched the room, looking for something of vast importance, then found his autocue against the wall. “You know, I usually stretch after a ball game, so if I’m not on top of my cue game, you’ll know why.” The assembled crowd laughed on command and Bankole took his shot, splitting the balls across the table.

  Not knowing the rules, Sterling took his shot straight after, but somehow managed to pot a red. “We’ll be taking your questions, but be warned, I’m only an amateur pool player.” The audience laughed on cue, the two black girls gave each other an eye.

  A journalist raised his arm. “Mr President, have you come to the UK to play basketball or to discuss the impending invasion of North Korea?” The forced playfulness gave way to genuine tension.

  The President found his autocue but couldn’t see the screen for a journalist’s head. He moved around the table, pretending to be looking at the balls. “North Korea? Of course not. Our two countries have always had close ties and this trip is about strengthening those ties. We’re still working towards a peaceful resolution to the North Korea problem. And why not enjoy a game of basketball at the same time? What could be more important than the health of our two nations?” The resulting laughter relieved some of the tension.

  One of the female students was able to take a shot but she missed. Bankole lined up and aimed, potting an easy red.

  “Prime Minister, what would you say is more important, playing basketball with the President and posing for photographs, or dealing with the present situation unfolding in Leeds?” It was not a journalist Sterling recognised. Who was he? Well, whoever it was, if he didn’t know how to play by the rules, he would never again be admitted to another press stunt.

  “I would say it’s extremely important that we leaders come together and take a lead on sport and fitness in an age where our youngsters are not exercising as well as they should. That’s what this trip is all about; the strengthening of our ties and taking some much needed initiative on this very important issue.” They’d better back off. He didn’t wish to look like an idiot.

  “Uh huh, and what about the situation in Leeds?”

  Sterling watched as Bankole almost emptied the table of red balls. He wished it was his turn so he could take a break from answering ridiculous questions he hadn’t been prepped for. “I’m aware of the riots unfolding in Leeds and I have full confidence in our police force in dealing with these rioters.”

  “Prime Minister, there have been deaths. This is no ordinary riot. There’s news footage of cannibalism in the Trinity Shopping Centre. The hospital is on fire.”

  That was not good. No, it was terrible. Rioting, fire and cannibalism? Sterling knew he needed to find a balance between sounding firm and tough on the scum, whilst at the same time considering the President and that this stunt was supposed to be a distraction from North Korea. He did not need this to be side-tracked, yet he also needed to appear in control of the situation.

  Sterling opened his mouth to speak, just as Bankole potted the black. “I believe that’s game to the Prime Minister and myself.” Bankole extended his hand to the girls. “Good game, ladies.”

  Sterling breathed. “Time to hit the showers, thanks for coming.”

  Close call.

  BBC1 - Look North, Yorkshire

  2 November 2014, 15:00

  Phil Bodmer is on Briggate, Leeds’ main shopping street. He is behind a row of police in full riot gear. They face the entrance to the street which runs adjacent to the Headrow.

  We had to run from our position outside the hospital to the city centre, where we heard events were developing. It appears that we are now, right now, in the epicentre of the UK’s latest round of rioting. As you can see, there seems to be a straggle of doped up, drugged up hospital patients staggering toward the police and they appear completely unconcerned by the very visible line of batons, shields, headgear and vehicles in tight formation. Confusingly, a
nd not to mention, worryingly, there also appears to be doctors, nurses and even police in their group. The number of rioters is also far greater than previously thought; we’re looking at over a hundred at this point, but that too might be an underestimation. Obvious questions are raised, perhaps most pressing - What is happening today in Leeds?

  Right now, as I speak these words, there is a second line of riot police assembling on the Headrow. I have been informed by the Sergeant, who I have with me today, that the plan is to trap the rioters in a pincer movement and pen them in between a barrier of shields and the Harvey Nichols store wall. This is a strategy the police have utilised on many occasions, for example, you may recall the Manchester student demonstrations of a few years ago. This tactic is also routinely used in order to keep rival sets of football fans apart and there is no force in the country with a greater experience in its employment than here in Leeds. For our viewers watching at home, there is no reason to worry, the police will be using peaceful tactics and nobody will be getting hurt.

  A news crew from Sky arrives and positions themselves behind the row of riot police, to the side of Phil Bodmer.

  It looks like we’ve been joined by our colleagues over at Sky. I’m guessing this is no longer a local story, but now a national one.

  “Excuse me?...No, we’re on air right now!...Would you mind?...How dare you!”

  They’re asking us to move. You may have just heard one of them say, “the big boys are here now, so scram,” but I can assure you, we were here first and we’ll do nothing of the sort.

  The rioters reach the police line and the thumping of plastic shields is audible above all else.

  The rioters are coming in hard, though they don’t appear to be brandishing any weaponry, they are using extreme violence. Thankfully, we have these fine policemen and the riot shields are easily holding off the aggressors, although I can see one doctor in a white coat successfully thrusting a hand between two shields…and…he’s reaching for an officer’s arm and…oh my God, he’s literally tugging him towards his mouth. Christ…Kirsty…Paul in the studio…I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life. Such wanton violence…uncalled for. The second line of officers…where are they? They should be here by now. What the fuck?

  Oh, good god!

  The camera closes on the second line, more resembling a bloody shambles as it staggers down from the Headrow, blocking the only exit.

  I think that answers my question! Sixteen, seventeen, no…I can’t count them all. What happened to them? Why do the police stagger and shamble like the rioters themselves? I can see…I can see that many of them are covered in blood, three have missing arms and one is trailing along the ground, what I can only guess to be his colon.

  Oh, good god!

  On seeing their colleagues staggering toward them, the line of riot police breaks, colliding with the camera crew. The image turns to fuzz.

  Five

  “What the bloody hell is going on? I trust you’re on top of this, Angela, you’ve been briefed?”

  “Prime Minister, we’re in constant contact with the West Yorkshire police and…”

  “And what’s the latest?”

  “Sir, there’s nobody alive at the hospital to tell us just what these people have been taking.”

  “Is it still on fire?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “What?”

  “According to our sources, it’s still ablaze.”

  “It’s still ablaze?”

  “It’s still burning, sir.”

  “Who are your sources?”

  “Twitter users, mostly.” The Home Secretary, Angela Curtis, had been summoned to 10 Downing Street by a WhatsApp message from Sterling. The text had said, simply, “Here. Now!”

  “Angela, it’s times like these I regret being such a Twitterphobe.” Sterling thought about Larry, how the 10 Downing Street cat had its own account with 17,000 followers. The envy pulsed through him. Could he manage to attain so many followers? It would be politically damaging if he were to be beaten by his cat so it was probably best not to chance it. In times like these, with such a heavy deficit facing the country, the people needed strong leadership, not somebody who allowed a cat to dictate his Twitter policies.

  “Sir, there’s always time to create an account.”

  “Right now, I’m more concerned with dealing with our Leeds problem. I don’t need to remind you about the upcoming election. People still remember the last riots and we were lambasted for weak leadership then. We can’t let that happen again. We must be tough with these hooligans. I’d like this dealt with quickly so I can get back to the many other problems demanding my attention.”

  He weighed up his options. He could send in the army but unfortunately, the majority of the northern bases had been disbanded after the budgetary cuts. He held it in his power to send in troops from Scotland, still, but that option would make him, and England, look pathetic and besides, the Scottish Devolved Government would stall and stall and stall. Which left him with the one option of sending northwards some southern troops, but then he remembered that pretty much all of those were already on tour in Afghanistan, the Falklands or other places.

  He grabbed a fistful of hair and tugged. “The police just turned tail and ran, you say?”

  “The ones that hadn’t joined the ranks of the hooligans, yes.”

  “What strange drug are they dishing out willy-nilly to our police force? And why are they taking them?” Sterling couldn’t understand what was happening, he had yet to receive any intelligence. If the Leeds police really were such cowards, then what good would it do sending them back into the fray, risking more lives. “Angela, you’re the bloody Home Secretary. Bloody advise me!”

  “My suggestion is to reinforce West Yorkshire with police from other parts of the country. Just like we did with the London riots.”

  That was an excellent suggestion. That measure had put an end to the mindless rioting and thuggery immediately. “That would mean…”

  “We’d need to call a meeting of the COBRA committee at once, sir.”

  COBRA stood for Cabinet Office Briefing Room A and existed to respond to incidences of national crises. The committee consisted of the Prime Minister, specific government ministers depending on the crisis, as well as relevant police, army and local government heads. Whenever COBRA was called, things moved.

  Sterling glanced at Larry as it strode into the office like it owned the place. He took a treat from his drawer and held it between thumb and finger. “Angela, you couldn’t close that door could you? Damn cat never gives me any attention.” He lowered his hand and Larry came and took the treat, before being scooped up into Sterling’s arms. “Damn fellow knows best, you have to be sneaky to get any love from this chap. What’s the latest? Switch on the TV.”

  Angela pressed a few buttons and the screen lit up. “Ugh, what’s he doing on there?” It was Chiles Warburton, Leader of the Opposition being interviewed.

  “I would say the events from Leeds have shown everybody just how unprepared and inept not just David Sterling is as Prime Minister, but also his entire government. One only has to see his response to the quite reasonable questions from before, and the fact he thought a game of basketball to be more important than people’s safety.”

  “What would you suggest the Prime Minister do in this situation?”

  “Well, John, it seems clear that some kind of new phenomena is happening up in the north, which even now seems to have spread to other parts of Yorkshire. My suggestion to David Sterling would be that he stops playing games, including basketball, and that he starts taking these events seriously. I would suggest to him that he calls the COBRA committee at once before this situation becomes even worse than what it already is. At the moment these mindless acts of random violence are contained within one county, but who’s to say it won’t spread far beyond? In the meantime, I also think it would be a good idea if the Prime Minister were to visit Leeds and be seen to be taking charge.
”

  Sterling threw the cat down, which came to land skilfully on its feet before running toward the door, only to find his exit blocked. “That odious little twerp. Who is he to make political capital out of a situation like this? The opportunistic little fuck!”

  “Prime Minister, it doesn’t matter what he says. I’ll call the COBRA committee for an hour’s hence.”

  “What? We can’t call COBRA now!”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “The opposition will have a field day. And the fucking Daily Mirror. I can see the headlines now, ‘PM Bows To Opposition Pressure.’ The fuck could have just kept his mouth shut and we’d be handling this situation.” He thumped the desk. That bloody man. How dare he.

  “Prime Minister, I think there are more important things at stake than The Mirror’s headlines tomorrow.”

  “Ordinarily, I’d agree with you. But the election…We can’t be made to look like we’re taking cues from that lot.”

  “Then what are we going to do?”

  “Get through to every police station in West Yorkshire and tell them to reinforce Leeds. Just sort it! I’ve got a fucking meal and speech tonight with the President.”

  “Prime Minister, it’s already spread beyond Leeds.”

  “Oh nonsense. You ever seen a junky walk more than a few miles in search of his next fix?” He laughed at the thought. “They’ll tank out long before then. Just reinforce Leeds and tomorrow we’ll be discussing the damn deficit again.”

  Sky News - 2 November, 20:00

  The headlines at eight:

  The government’s senior scientist says we are dealing with something quite different from rioting. This is backed up by eye witness statements from Leeds.