Gridlock

by Ben Elton

  'This year it's different, Philip,' she whispered backstage as they inserted the huge metal support spike in the back of her dress to hold up the great big stupid-looking crown. 'I really cannot say it.'

  But she knew she would, she would have to. The public outcry after the great gridlock had been horrendous. Hundreds of thousands of Londoners had been left stranded in their cars for up to three days while the jam was cleared from the outside in. The knock-on effect had shot up the motorways and down to the Channel Tunnel, causing more horrendous delays. The complete shut-down of the capital for over half a week had affected business and commerce all over the country and into Europe. Countless deals had been lost, food had rotted, looting had occurred. The whole country had been absolutely astonished to discover what Chief Superintendent Ross had known for years, which was: that we are completely and utterly helpless in the face of motor cars, they can cripple us, any day, any time. They are a monster that we have created, we worship them, sacrifice the riches of the earth to them and we will die for them, the moment it is demanded of us.

  'Something must be done,' the people cried. 'We need more roads,' many added. It was this charged atmosphere of national disaster that had forced the Prime Minister to request Mrs McCorkadale, the Minister for Transport, to produce a radical, new, emergency road plan for Britain. By an extraordinary coincidence, the Ministry for Transport had one all ready. Digby's models were dusted off and presented to the nation. In the near hysteria that followed the gridlock, environmental objections were set aside, the country wanted roads and the Government was ready to rise to the challenge.

  'My government,' the Queen said, a lump rising in her throat as big as her hat, 'will begin the total rebuilding of all our major cities so that they may better accommodate the needs of the private motorist . . . This will involve the widening of all motorways . . . All B roads to become A roads . . .'

  The list went on and on, and it broke the Queen's heart to read it.

  Afterwards, in the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street, the Prime Minister spoke to Ingmar Bresslaw.

  'Terrible thing that gridlock, wasn't it, Ingmar?'

  'Terrible, Prime Minister.'

  'Bit of luck for us, in a way, though, wasn't it?'

  'Not really, Prime Minister, statistically it was bound to happen in the end. Ross had been warning us for years.'

  'Yes,' agreed the PM, 'but it was a bit of luck, it happening right now, just when we needed to regain the transport initiative.'

  'Yes, Prime Minister,' Ingmar conceded. That was a bit of luck. It couldn't have happened at a better time really. Almost as if it was planned.'

  'How absurd,' said the Prime Minister.

  'Yes,' Ingmar agreed, 'how absurd.'

  'Thank you, Ingmar,' said the Prime Minister. 'Thank you very much.'

  THE END