therealpm: (Thinking)
Links to all posts in the 'Peter and the Wolf' rp-arc will be added to this post.

Posts with commenting disabled are part of the plot, but indicate private moments of which other characters are not necessarily immediately aware. Posts taking place in a specific room or at a specific time should have this noted in the title or at the head of the post. Chronology follows these stated times, not necessarily the order in which rp comments are posted.

A floor plan of Westminster Palace is available here.

Posts

Peter Mandelson: 28th August. Lab book.  A potion fails.

John Bercow: 30th August, 9:30 pm. Text to Peter.  'Are you safe?'
Paddy Ashdown: 30th August, 11:30 pm. At home. 'What's all this nonsense?'

Peter Mandelson: 31st August, 9:00 am. At home. Burglary and a spot of home redecoration.  Sudden transformation.
John Bercow: 31st August, 9:02 am. At a holiday camp.  Calling all magi.
John Bercow: 31st August, 2pm. Group text/Speaker's quarters at the HoC Repeat: calling all magi.  Hunting party.
Alastair Campbell: 31st August, 4pm. At Home.  Advice
John Bercow: Evening 31st August, Hyde Park The hunt begins
Frances D'Souza: Evening 31st August, Primrose Hill Capture and rescue

Peter Mandelson: 1st September, 7am. Parliamentary prison cell. Dazed and confused.
Alastair Campbell: September 1st, 1pm. Spare room in the Speaker's quarters. Also dazed and confused.
Dawn Primarolo: September 1st, 5pm.  Outside the parliamentary prison cell.  Irritated.
Fiona Millar: 1st September, 7pm. At home. Alastair, where the hell have you been?
Sally Bercow: 1st September, 7 pm. Speaker's House. What to do with the wolf?

Peter Mandelson: 2nd September, 7am. Prison cell. Paperwork
Fiona Millar: 2nd September, 7:45 am. At home. Operation rescue naked Peter.
George Osborne: 2nd September, 8:30 am. Constituency home. A call from Peter
John Bercow: 2nd September, 8:30 am. Speaker's House. Adoption arrangements
Sally Bercow: 2nd September, 11 am. Speaker's House. Guests arrive
John Bercow: 2nd September, Speaker's Office.  Emergency meeting.

Peter Mandelson:3rd September, 7am. Prison cell. Cabin fever.
Vince Cable: 3rd September, 7:30 am. Diary. Making arrangements.

Peter Mandelson: 4th September, 7am. Prison cell. Potion and a new portfolio.
Chris Bryant: 4th September, 1:30 pm. Stalker.
Jo Swinson: 4th September, 5:45 pm. Diary. New job.
Jeremy Brown: 4th September, 8 pm. Diary Reshuffle.

John Bercow: 5th September, 5am. Collaring and inspection.
Frances D'Souza: 5th September, 9:15 am. Voicemail.
Frances D'Souza: 5th September, 10 am. Inspection, release, recapture.

Peter Mandelson: 6th September, 6am. Prison cell. Reconciliation.

Peter Mandelson: 9th September, 8am. Prison cell. Rosy Dawn.

Dawn Primarolo: 10 September, 2:30 pm. Deputy Speakers Bitching Society. What it says on the tin.

Chris Bryant: 11 September, 5 pm. Officer's corridor. Save you from yourself.
Paddy Ashdown: 11 September, House of Lords. Return to London.
Frances D'Souza: 11 September, email. Assistance required.
Peter Mandelson: 11 September, Prison Cell. A visit from Paddy.

Peter Mandelson: 12 September, 2 pm. Prison cell. A 'friendly' visit.

Peter Mandelson: 15 September, 9:55 am. Prison cell. Cabin fever.

Sally Bercow: 16th September, 9pm. Speaker's quarters. Day of reckoning.

Peter Mandelson: 17th September, 5pm. Prison cell. Mostly harmless.

Sally Bercow: 19th September, 5:40 pm. Speaker's quarters. Trip to the petting zoo, Alastair?
Peter Mandelson: 19th September, 6pm. Prison Cell. Visitors.

Peter Mandelson: 20th September, 10 am. Prison Cell. Lord Fowler makes A Discovery.

Chris Bryant: 22nd September, 4:00 pm. Officer's Corridor. Agent Bryant, super spy.

Peter Mandelson: 23rd September, 5:30 pm. Prison cell. Peter and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Peter Mandelson: 24th September, 8:45 am. Prison cell. The Machine.

Peter Mandelson: 25th September, 9:30 am. Prison Cell. Everything hurts.
Fiona Millar: 25th September, 6:30 pm. At home. Salad and recap.

Peter Mandelson: 26th September, 9:10 am. Mandatory Excursion. Smells like Team Spirit.

Peter Mandelson: 27th September, 8 am. Prison cell. Walkies
Alastair Campbell: 27th September, 10 am. Home. Life is pain.

Sally Bercow: 28th September, Evening. Hercule Bercow.

John Bercow: 29th September, 9 am. Prison Cell/Speaker's House. Hide and Seek.

John Bercow: 30th September, 9 am. Speaker's House. A walk in the park.

John Bercow: 1st October, Speaker's House. Bedfellows

John Bercow: 4th October, lunch time. Prison cell. Prince in the tower.

Chris Bryant: 5th October, 7:30 am. At home. Hungover.
Peter Mandelson: 5th October, lunch time. Prison cell. Inspection II.
Peter Mandelson: 5th October, 10 pm. Prison cell. Unwelcome news. Unwelcome visitors.
                           ETA: link goes to flatview as too many comments to load in normal view.

Nigel Evans: October 6th , 11:00 am. Speaker's Office. Take me out tonight.
Jacob Rees-Mogg: October 6th, lunchtime. A discreet locale. Lunch

William Hague: 8th October, 8 am. Hotel. Red boxes.
Peter Mandelson: Monday 8th October, 6pm. Prison Cell  Small consolation

Peter Mandelson: 9th October, 7am. Prison Cell/Speaker's House. The aftermath.
Sally Bercow: 9th October, 2pm. Speaker's House. RIGHTEOUS ANGER
Dawn Primarolo: 9th October. Notes. Werewolf apocalypse.

Peter Mandelson: 10th October, 11am. Prison Cell. Potions Master nerd.

John Bercow: 12th October, lunchtime. Prison cell. Cross examination.
Dawn Primarolo: 12th October, 3pm. Lords Speaker's office. Reviewing the situation.

Peter Mandelson: 14th October, 9am. Prison Cell. Where there's a Will, there's a way.

Peter Mandelson: 15th October, 7:30 am. Prison Cell. Signed off.

Peter Mandelson: 17th October, 8am. Prison Cell. Silver fox wolf.

John Bercow: 18th October, 8 am. Prison cell. Medicine man.

John Bercow: 19th October, 8 am. Prison cell. Deals with the devil.

Peter Mandelson: 21st October, 9 am. Prison cell. Birthday party.

John Bercow: 22nd October, 8 am. Prison cell. DRUGS! (are a Risky business)

Peter Mandelson: 25th October, 9am. Prison cell. Complications.

Peter Mandelson: 26th October, 9am. Prison cell. The naked truth.

John Bercow: 28th October, 8am. Prison cell. Audiobooks.

John Bercow: 29th October, 8am. Prison cell. Catatonic with laughter.
therealpm: (I don't think so)
*He's been semi concious for about half an hour (fucking birds and their fucking dawn chorus) by the time his alarm goes off at six. He rolls over to tap it off and nearly falls when the bed turns out to be a sofa and the bedside table turns out to not exist.

Urgh.

He rubs the sleep and remnants of last night's glamour charm off his face and goes to make two cups of tea. There's no signs of life from upstairs but perhaps that's to be expected. John's campaign thus far has reeked of indolence at every level. Peter will have to set about sorting that (and their finances) later - for now he needs to get Bercow out doorstepping.

There's a heavy copper-bottomed pan hanging from the wall. By the look of it, it's never been used for anything other than show. He grabs a ladle and gives it an experimental thwack.*

BONG

BONG

BONG

*Peter pauses, from the muffled cursing and thuds as various objects are knocked to the floor, it would appear that upstair's occupant has finally awoken.*

...BONG

What?

Apr. 22nd, 2015 08:26 am
therealpm: (Confused)
"Milifandom soars with Twitter backing for Labour leader Ed Miliband"

Alastair knows about this twitter thing, though I'm not convinced his smugness, if asked, would be anything other than intolerable. Maybe Fiona?
therealpm: (annoyed)
Just to be clear, I have been far too busy over the past few months to have had anything to do with the recent IT problems. That said, had the proposals contained in my report been implemented in full, I am confident this situtation would not have occurred.

Edit: It seems (belated) birthday wishes are in order for Baroness D'Souza. Congratulations etc.

Edit 2: Fuck off, Kinnock Junior
therealpm: (Default)
I see certain recent embarrassments have spurred commentators, insightful or otherwise, to call for a slight change in either tactics or tactician.

I'm sure they'll sort themelves out.

Journal

May. 1st, 2013 07:43 pm
therealpm: (Haters to the left)
My attempts to ascertain the original cause of my erstwhile lycanthropy not withstanding, this week has been reasonably productive.  Though the legislation surrounding lycanthropes will never be brought to a full vote in either House (how could it), there are various committees that decide on such matters and intensive lobbying is at last beginning to bear fruit.  Not, I will admit, intensive lobbying conducted directly by myself.  I suspect any overt moves made in such a direction would be immediately regarded with suspicion, but Fowler has taken up the cause with what might be considered alarming alacrity.  Though he (and indeed every other member of such a committee) will never be convinced of a werewolf's right to roam, he has at least instated an inherent right to life provided the lycanthrope is willing to take the daily potion, and removed the restriction barring partners from becoming a lycanthrope's legal guardian.  Small steps, perhaps, but welcome.

I therefore intend to spend some time improving the daily potion.  At present it is challenging, though not impossible, to brew correctly, and it has a rather repulsive taste.  I suspect DEFRA consider the sedative and weakening effects to be a feature, rather than a problem, but I suspect that taken over a long period it causes a gradual degardation of health.  This too must be addressed.

The exact combination of ingredients required is yet to be discovered, but given the healthy links I have maintained with various research institutions, acquiring any particular root or grub should not present too much of a problem.  The main difficulty will be finding a test subject.  I can of course use mice for the development stage, but they give so little feedback, and in any case, once the formula is past development and into trials, I will need humanoid test subjects anyway. 

I wonder how that scottish island community is getting on?
therealpm: (Plotting)
I did hope that my comments at last week's dinner might have encouraged our frontbench to be slightly better at dissecting Osborne's populist shambles of a budget (endured in the midst of some very dubious company). It is therefore somewhat disappointing to note that the Tories were savaged more effectively by their own leadership than by ours, a situation likely to become only more frequent with Mr Miliband's lamentable departure.

therealpm: (Haters to the left)
Millarbell Household

EDIT: reposted here.

*Fiona is in the midst of writing another irate letter to Michael Gove when the doorbell rings. She goes downstairs to answer it, shoos Molly away from the entry with her foot, and opens the door to find a courier waiting outside.*

*She knows they haven't ordered anything, so she's instantly wary- you wouldn't believe the shit some people feel entitled to send Alastair- but she relaxes when she sees the milk bottle he's set down on the step. Peter has obviously decided to keep Alastair for longer and has sent her the milk to make up for it. (Fiona knows better than to imagine that considerate gesture came from her partner.) It's mildly irritating they didn't consult her before changing their plans- Christ, they've probably gone off with Tony after all; there was some article about him in the Guardian this morning- but at least she doesn't have to go out for the milk.*

*The other package is more mysterious. A Christmas gift from Peter? Still, whatever it is it probably isn't an Iraqi flag soaked in blood. With a mental shrug, Fiona signs for it, tucks the milk bottle under her elbow, and takes the mystery box inside.*

----//----
Millarbells under the cut )




D'Souza's Office

*It's been a frustrating few days. The IT problems have persisted and multiplied, and her only comfort is that the House of Commons is every bit as affected as the Lords. If it were just the Lords afflicted the problems with the monitors and the annuciators might be added to the endless queue of deferred maintainence projects in the Palace of Westminster, accompanied by a few sniggering jokes about the eldery and their fabled discomfort with technology. But the Commons are ~important~. If MPs can't see the day's business on their office monitors they won't know when they have to come into the House to vote, which means they have to stay in the Chamber all day and actually listen to the debates. And of course ~that~ constitutes a national emergency, in their eyes.*

*John is under immense pressure to find a solution and fast, which means that Frances has an ally, albeit a pompous, ineffectual one. She hasn't yet managed to trace the interference back to Peter- indeed, she can't detect any hexes behind the IT problems at all- and John is no use at all when it comes to tracer spells. But the House of Lords adjourns tomorrow, which will give her a chance to concentrate on setting a trap for the arsonist instead of putting out the daily fires, and meanwhile John has promised to confront Peter. Frances isn't optimistic about the outcome of that meeting- Peter has John wrapped around his little finger and if he refuses to undo the hexes at her behest it seems very unlikely he'll do so at John's- but it can't hurt. She hopes. At the very least, John might be able to wring some information out of Peter that will help them to block the spells.*
More Speakerly business under the cut )

Any edits required, let me know in the comments.
therealpm: (smug)
*Peter dials Fiona's phone number, but just gets through to voicemail. He tries the landline, but soon hears the beep of the answerphone. Clearly she's not in. He leaves a message.*

Hi, Fiona. Alastair's a little indisposed and won't be able to come home tonight. Nothing to worry about, but he'll be staying here for a bit until he feels better. I'll send him back over tomorrow. Hope you're well- you've got my number if you need to call.

Lots of love,
Peter
therealpm: (Bercow incoming)
Received confirmation that I have been removed from the no-fly list. Welcome news, albeit delivered within one of the most patronising letters I have ever had the misfortune to receive.

Corfu beckons.
therealpm: (smug)
*Peter skims through Hansard. He's been far too busy plotting revenge attending to House of Lords business to watch the debates today, but with the statement on the equal marriage consultation and Treasury questions, it seems reasonable to invest a little time digging out the choicer quotes. Especially if he's expected to turn up to the Lords for those sort of things.

Most of the debate is pretty predictable, but towards the end Bercow takes a point of order. Most odd; there's still a statement to go.

As he reads through the exchange, the corners of his mouth begin to turn up, until by the end he's sporting a full blown smirk. It's not just that Osborne was made to sit there and be reprimanded for his disregard of parliamentary procedure, but that it's done in such a way as to make Bercow's dislike for the man painfully obvious. Peter is reminded of nothing so much as Jack's tendency to growl, and even nip, when he spots a long-lens camera. A sort of dogged, over-protective loyalty that's as endearing as it is amusing (he buries the pang of resentment he still feels every time he sees someone mocking his George. It's a tenacious habit but one he is determined to break). He gets out his phone.


Text from 07### ######

John,

interesting performance with Osborne yesterday. I'm touched.

-Peter
therealpm: (headscratch)
*He's almost finished setting up the hex for tomorrow (Frances is persistent, a simple phone block will not be enough), when he remembers the still rather pitiable state of his wards.*

Hmmmm.

*He finishes the spell, then dashes off a quick text.*


Text from 07### ######

John,

change of plan. Coming over this evening. Prepare the spare bedroom.

-Peter


*He's pretty certain John still feels enough residual guilt to maintain the apartment's wards against an angry Frances.*
therealpm: (smug)
Not a bad month.

Now if only D'Souza would stop nagging me to turn up, everything would be perfect.
therealpm: (Mr Bond)
*Peter wakes early, still bouyed up by the election results and heads downstairs for a cup of tea and a yoghurt. His phone buzzes as the kettle boils. An update from The Machine.

Sipping his tea slowly, he scrolls through the results and nearly spills it everywhere when he reaches The Machine's conclusions, which have been carefully bolded so he can't possibly miss them. A quick enquiry confirms that the results have been double, triple and quadruple checked- there is no uncertainty.

Grinning, he types out a text message.*


Text from 07### ######

John,

your presence is required. ASAP.

-Peter


*He sips his tea again, considering how to procede. A little background music wouldn't go amiss.*
therealpm: (Thinking)
*It has taken several days for Peter to finish cleaning up- both after the werewolf and John's children, but at last all of the above ground rooms are clean and tidy.  The bedlinen, musty after two months in a closet, has all been washed and dried.  Suits have been aired and mothballs replaced.  The windows have been wiped down- were it summer they would sparkle but today has been unrelentingly grey.

Peter settles into the sofa, cup of tea in hand and appreciates the view.  The house still feels empty, but not quite so desolate.  He sips th steaming brew and ponders the last of today' chores: the cellar.  He has a vague memory of some potion or other going awry before he left and doubts the mess has been improved by two months' absence.  Still.  It needs to be done.

He finishes his tea, squares his shoulders and picks up the bucket of industrial-strength cleaning products.*

Once more into the breach.
therealpm: (Thinking)
*Prior to the balloon trick, Miles had been content to let his younger brother take the lead in devising and implementing the pranks, however, when he'd seen a rather shaken younger sibling standing in the middle of a living room covered entirely in popped House of Commons balloons, he'd taken a rather more active interest.  Which was why yesterday afternoon, after some brief enquiries as to exactly how much mass Peter could transport and with what accuracy, he'd driven Peter to a pharmacy several towns away (he wouldn't say why they couldn't go to the one in the village, just turned up the radio when Peter asked.  As it was Radio 4 this wasn't particularly effective, but Peter took the hint and stared out of the car window instead).

Peter stayed in the car, reaching over the back seat to pet the two dogs, whilst Miles went into the Chemist's, returning red faced and clutching a paper bag.  He'd tossed the bag into Peter's lap with a gruff instruction to 'get that into the little bastard's tea tomorrow morning, and make sure he drinks all of it'.

And so, the next morning at 7am, Peter finds himself sleepily drawing a rune circle and checking the omniview on his phone- waiting for the optimum moment to lace the Speaker of the House of Commons's tea with viagra.*
therealpm: (Damn)
*Peter wakes up slowly, and once again, dresses cautiously. The wards show some magical activity occurred late last night, and although the spell seems not to have targeted this room, it is always better to be careful- his new wards are not perfect, after all.

The location of the spell becomes obvious as soon as he opens his bedroom door. Plastic cups full of water stretch the breadth of the corridor and several feet either side of Peter's door- far too far for him to merely step over. A sharply curtailed attempt to move a few reveals that the cups are stapled together, and cannot be shifted without spilling a considerable amount of water.

Attempts to levitate the array or freeze the water meet with little success- Peter's magic is still far too weak for brute force to work, and persuading the entire thing to either move or freeze as one is an almost impossible task- like trying to direct every individual bee in a swarm.

He rocks back on his heels, chewing his lower lip, unwilling to admit defeat.*

...Miles?
therealpm: (Confused)
*Peter sips his very milky tea and does his best to ignore Miles, who is chattering away about a "very good physiotherapist, he lives in the next village.  I'll give him a ring and see if he can come round today."  Eventually, he points out that actually, he is perfectly capable of walking and doesn't need any assistance; a notion that Miles quickly shoots down by reminding him of his ill-fated attempts to get out of the car and walk up the garden path by himself yesterday.

His mood further deteriorates when Miles points out that being a werewolf would be an excellent hallowen costume.  There's a pang of loss at the thought of his other form, which he doesn't quite know how to deal with.  Instead, he gets out his phone, ignoring Miles' protestations about work at the breakfast table and texts John:*

Text from 07### ######

Bercow,

I haven't died.
Miles is somehow managing to be even more annoying than you.
wish the children a Happy Hallowe'en for me.

-Mandelson
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