A roar erupted in the Chamber of Commons, each side goading the other on. This went back and forth for the ensuing hour of debates before the speaker finally called the session to a close and the politicians shuffled out of the hall.
Killigan McArthur was one such politician. Following behind a queue of his fellow party members, he met his aide, waiting eagerly for him at the doors to the Commons.
“How was today’s session, sir?” asked the aide, matching the pace of their senior.
“Shite, as usual. Nothing but a bunch of partisan hacks. There’s no sense even trying to get them to compromise,” Killigan brought his hand down to his aide, who promptly filled it with a file. “Much trouble getting this?”
“No sir, it was published earlier today.” His aide looked down at their shoes.
“So we missed pre-publication?” Killigan noticed his aide’s sheepish demeanour, “Not your fault lad, shit happens. Anything important the senior ministers need to know?”
“I-uh-didn’t get a chance to look at it myself.”
“What the fuck do we even pay you –” Killigan felt the anger bubble up in his throat and the blood rush to his cheeks and forehead. He rubbed his temples, then patted the aide on the shoulder, “Not to worry. Now go and get me an ale and a coffee and meet me back at the office.”
The aide nodded and peeled away from the fast-moving crowd of politicians and their own aides.
Killigan shook his head violently, muttering under his breath, “If that bastard kid wasn’t the party leader’s nephew, I’d have had his fucking balls in a vice on his second fucking day.”
Today's prompt: partisan
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