001 - Voice

[fuckitybye]

[Prior to this, anyone near Malcom's room (level 7, room 5) will have heard him banging about in confusion for a bit; as his cabin looks like his office at No. 10, that's where he thinks he is. Then, in an attempt to page his assistant, he accidentally turns on the voice posting device and a loud Scottish voice is heard:]

—Sam? SAM? The fuck is up with putting a bed in here? This some kind of fucking joke? I can ream out that twat Nicholson just fine with him bent over my fucking desk, aye?

[Pause.]

Sam?

Oh, for fuck's sake—

[Sound of door opening. Long, stunned silence.]

What the fuck?

Comments

given that howie lives two doors down and hey. scottish. voice reply

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

...Everything alright?


[Pause, as he realises this is pointless and he ought to explain. He's polite after all.]

I know it's confusing when you first get here, but there's no reason for that language. I don't think you're where you think you are, and I ought to break it to you straight. You've quite probably died, and are probably an inmate - on what can sort of be described as an interdimensional prison ship, but it really isn't conventional in most senses. I would explain more, but that's weird enough, I'm sure.

I also think you're down the corridor from me, as I'm fairly sure I heard most of that twice.

1/2

[fuckitybye]

 

2/2

[fuckitybye]

For the purposes of argument, I'm gonna bloody well assume that you're telling me the truth and that fucking Jamie hasn't put you up to this or some shit, and begging your pardon but I DO THINK being DEAD on a fucking "interdimensional prison ship" is a good fucking reason for ANY language.

Jesus Christ.

[Sound of Malcolm flumping into a chair.]

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

I'll give you that it's one of the best reasons, yes. I swear, it's the truth, and I can explain further if you want, but don't expect me to be too nice about it if you keep throwing language like that around.

What's your name, anyway? I'd ask where you're from, but it's pretty obvious. What year is it for you?

[fuckitybye]

[At the mention of "language like that", there's a muffled "Jesus fucking Christ", but nothing else. Malcolm is not stupid and reckons he can unload on this fellow once he's gotten anything useful out of him. His tone, when he speaks, is suggestive of a tightly coiled spring.]

Malcolm Tucker. 2009 and Tom just announced the general election.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

[Your tone is noted and, trust me, he's wary]

Tom is... who?

I'm Sergeant Neil Howie, if you wondered. 1973, so forgive me for having no idea what your reference to him means.

[fuckitybye]

1973. Aye, well, then you wouldn't know that Tom Davies is the nutter now known as the Prime Minister. Least you have a fucking excuse for not knowing.

Sergeant, eh? Military or copper?

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

I'm afraid my reading into the future stopped around the mid-nineties. It was John Major last thing I read.

Latter. West Highland Police.

[fuckitybye]

What, did you keel over from bloody boredom? Whole fucking country nearly did, so I can't blame you there.

How'd you end up here, then?

[No, Howie's name still hasn't clicked yet, but there are connections firing at the back of Malcom's brain.]

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

...I got the impression he was about as boring as, I don't know, Anthony Eden.

Through choice, mainly. I'm a warden. Admittedly, I'm no longer alive either, which put me in the position to choose.

[Well, he's not telling you much beyond that, Malcolm.]

[fuckitybye]

Major made Eden look fucking colourful.

So explain this warden and inmate shite to me, eh?

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

Well, he was a Conservative.

Basically and I can't wait for the earful I'm going to get for this one - every inmate has a warden. Inmates are here to, in some respect, redeem themselves for what they have done wrong in life; to earn a second chance, if you like. Their wardens are supposed to help them towards that end. Inmates are not... like traditional prison inmates, they're not locked up - but you can't get in the pub or the CES, which is... sort of outdoors-but-not on the top deck. That's a bit confusing, I admit. There's also zero, which is, essentially, a cell block.

[Private] Scottish conspiring.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

I don't want to be his friend, Howie!

[Private] Scottish conspiring.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

We don't have to be his friend. He's certainly far too much on the crude end of things for my liking, but it's polite enough not to leave the guy confused.

[Private] Scottish conspiring.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

...but he's from Glasgow! He's practically family! D'you know where I'm from, mate? I'm from ABERDEEN. We're probably related! I bet he knows me mum's mum! What do I do? I can hear her now, "Don't be a foppish ponce, Monty! Be nice to your fellow Scotsman!"

He's... he's a monster is what he is. He sounds like a realpolitik!

[Private] Scottish conspiring.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

You're not honour bound to like every Scotsman there ever was. Although, I know the feeling. Also, I'm closer to him both in time and geography.

...I think monster is a little harsh when he's a relatively normal man who, yes, speaks in colourful language, and yes, works in Whitehall, which is worrying, but he's not that bad. He at least deserves to know what's going on.

I'm going to let Scotty forget his filter now, for the sake of torturing him.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

D'you think mum'll forgive me if I depend on you to be nice enough for the two of us, then?

He's a monster from Whitehall, and I think that's giving the bloke a good deal of credit.

and howie headdesks.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

I think she will. I'm not sure she'll forgive you for just saying all that in public, though.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Bloody nice day, innit, Sergeant?

[fuckitybye]

Go on, son, fucking tell us something we've never heard before.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Workin' for the Queen, is it? Oh, that's bloody nice, mate.

[fuckitybye]

I work to keep the leaking fucking ship that is the Labour government afloat.

*innocent whistling commences*

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

It is, isn't it, Mr Scott? Great weather up here on seven. How is it where you are?

/SOBS.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Storm's coming, methinks.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

I'm sure your mum would tell you to remember your raincoat.