Non-fiction Bestsellers
- Location
- Port of the Mouth
- Pronouns
- She/Them
Well most of those titles are fairly ominous, apart from the I guess biography series on ‘PM David Steel, I think’Back when this site was first set up I helped sow the trend of everyone having individual graphic threads so I'm reaping that sowing now I'm back; in any case, I have a few graphics/maps and such I did during my long not-here that I thought would be fun to share over the period I'm here again.
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These look cool and the premise is fun, I did initially think it was the late 19th Century and I thought we would get some Two By Two* action in terms of theocratic types but oh well. It does feel rather lives in world and feels like probably what would have happened if the Kingdom of Scotland continued.Some banners for a mini wargame I'm doing work on rn, The Blues & The Whites, detailing a civil war in Scotland during the turn of the 19th century.
Ohhh,like the use of Meg Hiller,very underused.Draft for a Thing™
2010—2015: David Cameron (Conservative)
2010 (Coalition w/Liberal Democrats): David Cameron (Conservative) - 306, Gordon Brown (Labour) - 258, Nick Clegg (Liberal Democrats) - 57, Others - 29
2011 AV Ref: NO - 67.9%, YES - 32.1%
2011 Welsh Devo: YES - 63.5%, NO - 36.5%
2014 Euro: Nigel Farage (UKIP) - 23, Glenis Wilmott (Labour) - 20, Syed Kamell (Conservative) - 19, Caroline Lucas (GPEW) - 3, Others - 7
2014 Scottish Independence: YES - 52%, NO - 48%
2015—2023: Ed Miliband (Labour)
2015 (Majority): Ed Miliband (Labour) - 329, David Cameron (Conservative) - 220, Alex Salmond (SNP) - 31, Nigel Farage (UKIP) - 29, Ed Davey (Liberal Democrats) - 20, Others - 21
2019 Euro: Stephen Woolfe (UKIP) - 29, Clare Moody (Labour) - 17, Ashley Fox (Conservative) - 8, Jonathon Bartley & Amelia Womack (GPEW) - 6, Catherine Bearder (Liberal Democrats) - 4, Others - 3
2020 (Majority): Ed Miliband (Labour) - 450, Theresa May ("National Health" Conservative & UKIP Coupon) - 74, Ed Davey (Liberal Democrats) - 36, Nigel Farage ("Save Democracy" UKIP & Conservative "Anti-Lockdown" Coupon) - 12, 19 Others
2023: Meg Hiller (Labour)
Separate, the Tories in Opposition split on extending Parliament for a couple of months to hold the election after lockdown, with bulk of that led by May and UKIP MPs who backed lockdown and supported the extension, while Farage is leading the bulk of UKIP in opposition to the extension and lockdown with Tory MPs who are feral against their leadershipOhhh,like the use of Meg Hiller,very underused.
Are the two Coupons separate or part of a deal where May is in charge of the pro lockdown/vaxx candidates and Farage of the antivaxx one and the one with more MPs gets to be PM?
Good lord.Theresa May ("National Health" Conservative & UKIP Coupon) - 74
Prologue for a DraftDavid had always been attentive in his appearance, especially when meeting a man younger than himself. Such was more common than not these days, he considered while regarding to his hand. Gone was soft youthful flesh; in its place sinew and liver spots. Well over half a century ago, his brother had teased him that all old people got ‘spots of senility’- not that Arthur had lived long enough to get them.
If David had been born two minutes earlier, he would have been born a Prince. At least, the Prince, the one that mattered. Not that Princely Dukedom was the worst consolation prize in the lottery of birth. Such was cosmic luck to be born the spare to the heir.
But unlucky was Arthur’s dickey heart, for both of them.
David could still taste the salt on the air, hear the shriek of the sea birds, that bitter chill of a Newfoundland morning as the Premier’s Official yacht came into dock. It was then David saw his father, standing on the harbour. Father had flown personally from London to St. John’s. Mother stayed behind to ‘be strong’. The cruel bastard; that was always his way.
He turned to Molly, her beautiful golden curls a halo around a face reddened by winter, and softened by sadness. It was in her eyes; it was on her lips. Somehow she knew why father had arrived. And in that moment, so did he.
And father stood there, sharp in his black mourning best, flanked by bodyguards, the worlds press swarming like flies just behind a police barricade.
It would be the death of him, he supposed, to ruminate on the ‘what ifs’. Fate was fate. Sixty years ago was ancient history.
Flexing his hand, David felt a numbness.
Looking from his liver spots to the youthful face opposite him, he noticed his Prime Minister. Not the regular one- Leo Parkin was ‘busy’, as his Private Secretary had informed him, speaking at dinner- but rather a visiting Prime Minister from one of the other crowns that weighed so heavy on his head.
He was well over half David’s age at thirty eight, clean shaven, and spoke with the cadence that came with a nose thrice broken in Montréal. It was hard for David to not feel overdressed looking at the off-the-rack suit while wearing Anderson & Shepard. The China blue Irish linen was disarmingly stylish, the Dresser had declared that morning, not that the young man seemed to care. Talking away on some detail or another, the Prime Minister didn’t even notice his Sovereign’s attention was with the air, sniffing at the faint miasma of breakfast toast.
“…and of course, we anticipate your residence ahead of Canada Day this summer…” the young man said, David’s attention drifting. He may have a warm fondness for the other Kingdom- perhaps, in another life, he could have ruled it and it alone- but the thought of a summer in that limestone monstrosity in Rideau was appalling to him. Not that La Citadelle was much better.
“Loath I am to interrupt, Prime Minister,” David said, dryness on his lips, mouth turning cotton. “Soda water”, he meant to ask, but the words failed him. The numbness now radiated up his arm, and cascaded into his head like wild fire. The young man said something in a voice muffled and faraway, then leapt to his feet with eyes full of terror.
How odd, David thought, I’m falling.
Staring at the beautiful ceiling, David blinked. The Equerry came into view, and was screaming into his radio. As his eyes grew heavy, and vision faded into darkness, the last thing His Majesty King David the Third of Great Britain and Northern Ireland felt was faint embarrassment at the hot wet feeling running down his leg.