father ’ s generation . The problems had really begun to gather their steam in 2030 when Theresa May had succumbed to illness and finally perished , leaving Brexit unfinished and Amber Rudd in her place as ‘ interim leader ’. That was when the purges began . Brexit had to be done properly they said . The Remainers all went . ‘ Renounce your faith or its Scotland for you !’ - the option given by hard-line militants as they marched into homes and rounded up innocents ; Chalk had made the pragmatic choice . Only really once the civil war was in full swing , with The European Liberation Army marching down from the Northern ‘ re-education ’ camps , did he become involved in the push for Europe . He deserted his home to command a battalion of ex-middle-class liberals . From there he had risen up the ranks like water drawn up the stem of a plant , and now , well , he was the flower of the nation . Britain was unified once more , and Chalk ’ s skill , charisma , and natural brilliance were to thank for it . It was no wonder , therefore , that the lackey ’ s hand was shaking .
Between the Commission and the car stood a solitary figure , bathed in sickly blue light , his hand already extended . Red dots flitted around him like fleas over the peatbog camps ; Chalk strode forward and grasped Macron ’ s small hand in his bear-like paw . It was important to assert dominance . This evening was Chalk ’ s to command .
Macron , shaken , greeted Chalk with a cascading babble of French , taking his fluency for granted . Side by side the two leaders progressed into the building , the former struggling to keep pace on his ageing legs with the Briton ’ s mighty strides . Emerging into the entry hall the Englishman was surprised , pleasantly , to find 25 leaders standing , as if to attention , waiting for his arrival . None of them was the one , however , that Chalk had come to see . His sights were set on one woman , Alice Schmidt , the eminence grise of this European parliament . Born in Baden in the 1960s , Schmidt had risen to power in the Bundestag as the poster girl of reformed liberalism : a true hero of the European liberation army . Now , sticking out like a sore thumb , she sat in an armchair . She had no intention of supporting this British upstart , regardless of their shared views or the historic nature of the situation . Chalk regarded her chair , upholstered in a ghastly floral pattern , deliberately out of place , and felt nothing but respect . Here was a woman who he could understand , with no façade of pleasantries .
A herd of creaking bones , the aged leaders , were corralled up the grand staircase by aides . The stairs , like everything in the Berlaymont building , were metal and glass , the fashionable design of the early 2000s , to help the decrepit statesmen with their glazed eyes and titanium hip joints feel more at home . Chalk positioned
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