For the Love of Money

by Bill Whiting

NINETEEN

  For three days prior to a speaking appearance at Cosworth Town Hall, Miller was kept busy developing his political philosophy. All the local election candidates were scheduled to speak at an event, which had been arranged by Sir Basil Hathaway’s newspaper, the Post & Chronicle.

  The main party candidates had been allotted twenty minutes each to speak. Miller and one other minor candidate were given fifteen minutes each. The meeting was surprisingly well attended, a full house in fact, with many others gathered outside. This was almost entirely a result of the publicity Miller had generated by his TV appearance. A very large number of irate people had turned out to heckle him, and some had even travelled a long distance to do so.

  Also, an unusual number of media reporters had turned up, including a satellite TV news station. They were no doubt hoping Miller would either be seriously assaulted and provide excellent pictures, or say something outrageous enough to spark a headline. Miller needed a police escort to enter the building. He was jostled and abused by a variety of protest groups provoked by his TV interview: everything from various sexual and gender groups, to far-left socialists, minority rights campaigners, environmentalists and even a sprinkling of religious activists.

  And, inevitably, Miller was jeered raucously as Sir Basil Hathaway read out his name in his speech which opened the event. Miller was on a stage with a line of candidates and he was billed the fourth speaker.

  The next ninety minutes seemed like a week to him, as the three main candidates all spoke beyond their allotted time. They all spoke in a vehement tone, explaining how their policies would save the country from catastrophe. And they all had something which appeared to be essential in a politician’s toolbox: a ‘vision’. In essence the visions seemed to involve the elimination of all human pain and suffering via the elimination of various forms of unfairness.

  Miller calculated that the spectrum of people currently said, by the various candidates, to be suffering from unfairness, covered the entire population of the country. On that stage, compassion was the in-vogue passion. All the problems in the country, a very long list from the various candidates, could be solved through the passionate application of compassion.

  Until now, Miller had taken little interest in politics and politicians; and he’d wondered if people went into it because they lacked ambition or self-confidence to make it in the commercial world. But now he realised these people had gigantic ambition, and seemingly gargantuan belief in their abilities. They not only thought they had the brains and drive to tackle practical problems, including all known material shortages and surfeits, but also knew how to make all ordinary people safe, secure and happy; all criminals remorseful and reformed; all families cohesive and stable; all children well-adjusted and well-educated; and all society’s excluded feel included.

  Miller concluded that, apart from politicians, only Jesus had offered a greater heavenly future – and even more miracles. But all this suited Miller’s new and contrasting agenda.

  He was finally called upon by Hathaway, and as he rose he was jeered loudly for some minutes. Some fruit and tomatoes were also hurled in his direction.

  Hathaway finally rose and demanded quiet. “Everyone has the right to speak,” he said. “Yes, even him.”

  Miller stood at the rostrum and began talking loudly:

  “Ladies and gentlemen. I have a very simple message. I plead with you – do not, under any circumstances, vote for me.”

  Suddenly, the audience went quiet and Miller, staring down, was silent too. After a long and theatrical pause, he resumed…

  “I have taken on board all the criticism levelled at me. But thanks to you, I’m remorseful and, I hope, reformed. I’ve seen the light. As you know my party is called ‘Me Now’. However, I am now renaming it the ‘Don’t Vote for Me party’.

  “You may wonder, therefore, why I do not simply withdraw from the election. It is because the only way you can positively and consciously not vote for me is by rejecting me, which is something almost all of you may wish to do. And in order that you can reject me, my name must be on the ballot paper. Only by having a clear and transparent option to vote for me, can you demonstrate your clear and transparent wish not to do so.

  “But one or two of you may be asking yourselves, why exactly shouldn’t you vote for me? You may be thinking that you deserve a more compelling reason not to support me than the mere fact that I am asking you not to support me. Well, I intend to make my case with sound argument.

  “First and foremost, if what you want from your representative is a clear programme of action and change; a compassionate vision for reform and transformation; strong leadership with the promise of renewed hope and inspiration; and the passion, energy, drive and commitment to make all these things happen – then I am not your man. Do not vote for me.

  “If I am elected, I do not intend to do anything. I will be entirely inactive on your behalf at all times. I will right no wrongs, fix nothing which is broken, improve nothing which is imperfect, and be neither fair nor unfair about anything. I offer you a manifesto which is a barren desert of innovation, and a wasteland of initiative. In short, an empty political wilderness and an ideological vacuum.

  “Of course, many of you may have a dream today: a dream to make this world a better place. You have a dream that would see all humankind live with goodwill towards one another, live in peace, harmony and justice.

  “I tell you now, I have no such dream.

  “And I say to all those of you who yearn for a better tomorrow; to all those who fear the dark abyss and crave the sunlit uplands; to all those who believe that no obstacle is too great, no mountain is too high and no threat too fearsome – and that these challenges can all be overcome by a resolute, unyielding, unwavering and passionate leader…

  “I say to all those people with this dream for a better world: let them not vote for Jamie Miller!

  “Fine words, you may be thinking. Rhetoric comes easy, but total inaction is harder. Is it just another airy-fairy promise, to be reneged upon or weaselled out of later? Big and bold statements are ten a penny in elections – but the devil is in the detail. So I shall be more specific. In the brief time I have left, I will spell out exactly the important things about which I am determined not to do anything.

  “I begin with all nurseries, infant, primary and secondary schools, and all colleges of further education. Then hospitals, prisons, roads, airports, shipping ports, police, fire and ambulance services, courts of justice, central and local government institutions, sports facilities, the armed forces and water, gas and electricity utilities. I will do nothing about any of them.

  “I further promise that nothing whatsoever new will be done to pre-empt global warming, lessen the mutation of dangerous viruses, promote family security, standards of parental care, or advance the welfare of any animals. In addition, no action will be taken with regard to any group in a minority with disadvantages attributable to their race, religion, age, ability or disability, sex or sexual orientation.

  “In terms of public safety, I propose nothing to curb the drug addiction problems, discourage dangerous driving, control the development of genetically modified foods; and will give no advice, warnings, notices, or information in respect of any other known, as yet unknown, or imagined, risks to the public. In the event of any major catastrophe, no public inquiry will be set up and no money will be spent on any identifiable safety improvements.

  “Turning to the economy, no new taxes will be raised and no new costs incurred, in order that nothing whatsoever is done regarding the national debt or public finances. Nothing new will be spent to encourage national and regional infrastructure, to protect employment, promote business or stimulate important research. Additionally, nothing will be done about employee, employer or consumer protection.

  “And finally, I turn to foreign policy. No new treaties, alliances, agreements or discussions will b
e entered into, and no action taken to discourage any injustices which occur overseas.

  “Now: there are many more things about which I would do nothing, but too many for me to cover here tonight in my limited time. But I hope you will recognise from what I have said, the essential value which lies at the core of my party. My party stands for inaction and inertia. Where there is initiative, I will bring apathy. Where there is enterprise, I shall bring lethargy. And where there is endeavour, I shall bring indifference.

  “No doubt, I will hear it said that my politics sets a new height in negative campaigning. I understand that. I have listened, and people have said time and again that they want something done about a myriad of things. And that is why I believe that not voting for me will have broad popular support. I will not be voting for myself and my hope is that I will not get a single vote.

  “Thank you very much.”

  Miller received neither applause nor derision as he walked back to his seat. The hall was silent as Hathaway rose from his chair.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he said falteringly. “That was very… er… interesting. We now have twenty minutes for questions. If you wish to ask any candidate a question, please raise your hand and wait for the microphone to reach you.”

  Much to the chagrin of the other candidates, all the questions that followed were directed at Miller. The first questioner asked, “The opinion polls show that one half of one per cent of voters intend to vote for you. Would this constitute failure?”

  “Well, that’s not what I’m hearing at the grass roots,” Miller responded. “My support is certainly less than that, but more important, it’s dwindling every day. I believe the momentum in this campaign is firmly downward in my favour. Furthermore, I think my tiny support is only coming from floating voters; so it is encouragingly fragile and likely to evaporate. Certainly, I intend to work hard over the coming days to convert these ‘maybes’ into firm rejecters.”

  Then a youth spoke out. “There must be some things that really piss you off,” he said. “If you fail to not get elected, wouldn’t you be tempted to do even one little thing?”

  “I’ve thought long and hard about this,” Miller answered. “In fact, you may be aware that hornets are currently a protected species and their nests can only be destroyed if they are located within six metres of a domestic dwelling. I was tempted to extend this exclusion zone from six metres to six miles, because I hate hornets. However, to achieve this, action would be required and I would need to be elected – and these are both against my basic principles. So no, I’ll do nothing, I promise.”

  The most penetrating question came from one of Hathaway’s newspaper reporters: “Isn’t your campaign outrageously bonkers, ridiculously oddball and completely and utterly irrational?”

  “It certainly is,” Miller answered, “but we live in a post-rational age. Journalists are not rational. They live in an irrational world, which they have created, continue to sustain and cannot escape from. Fears, failures, disasters – they love ’em all.”

  Hathaway rose to wind up the meeting and afterwards turned to Jock McKinlay and said, “I hate that obnoxious Miller. Is he trying to make the Guinness Book of Records for being the only candidate in an election to get no votes? What’s in it for him? And what do we do, Jock? Do we have the Post & Chronicle campaign for him or against him?”

  “Against him, Sir,” McKinlay answered. “I hate him myself.”

  “Yes, I know we’re against him,” Hathaway said, “but do we recommend that people vote for him or against him?”

  “Ah, I see,” McKinlay responded. “Well, he’s asking for no votes, so surely, if we’re against him, we should tell readers to vote for him?”

  “You mean support him then?” Hathaway asked.

  “If we’re against him, we have to support him,” McKinlay said. “He’ll only succeed if he fails; so we must do all we can to make sure he fails by succeeding.”

  “So, we should say that the Post & Chronicle rejects Miller’s campaign and urges people to vote for him?”

  “Aye,” McKinlay confirmed. “Total, unequivocal and unwavering support. Well, not support exactly. The electorate should send him to Parliament in protest against all politicians who do not want to be elected.”

  “Mmm…” Hathaway pondered, “but then he’ll go to Parliament and do nothing – which is sort of what we are protesting about in the first place.”

  “Then you think people shouldn’t vote for him, Sir?” McKinlay asked, looking puzzled.

  “I’m not sure about this one,” Hathaway said. “We’ll need to think it through – very carefully indeed.”

  TWENTY

  The morning after the town hall meeting, Miller was awoken at 4.15am by his phone. He groaned, stretched out, and mumbled into it. A distant-sounding voice said, “Hi Jamie, what are you up to then?”

  “Bill,” Miller answered, “it’s the middle of the night here. What do you want?”

  “Oops, sorry about that,” Bill King said. “I’m in the Indian Ocean and it’s mid-morning here. Anyway, I was just calling to find out what your angle is.”

  “What angle?” Miller asked.

  “This election thing – the don’t vote for me thing,” King said. “Come on, you’ve got an angle there somewhere. You’re going to make money out of this somehow, but for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.”

  “I haven’t got an angle and I won’t make any money,” Miller stated emphatically.

  “Look, I’m not looking for a slice of it,” King said. “I’m just curious. You know you can trust me, come on, open up.”

  “Look, Bill,” Miller said, “for once there’s no angle, no money and no financial purpose to it. I was just bored and I’m doing it to amuse myself, to satisfy a sort of academic interest. I’m quite enjoying it too.”

  “Oh, I see,” King said. “Well, I don’t believe you’ll settle for less than a few million quid out of it. But anyway, I’m bored too. Can I be your campaign manager? You’ll never get no votes all by yourself. You need organisation, and you know I’m better at that than you are.”

  “I think I can minimise my votes without your help,” Miller answered. “Stay where you are, or send me some emails or something.”

  “That’s no good,” King said. “Distant water cannot quench the fire close at hand.”

  “What?” Miller said.

  “Never mind,” King answered. “I’m on the plane this afternoon. And I must let Rachel know too. She’s always been lucky for us. Bye Jamie, see you soon.”

  Miller sighed and lay back in his bed. Thinking back to his time with King and Rachel, he realised making money with them had been fun, and he realised the chase had been the best part of it. This was especially true now that he had money, and success in a venture was not an essential outcome. He could now afford to enjoy business as a sport.

  After a light breakfast in his twelfth-floor penthouse, Miller set off for a few hours’ canvassing. Knocking on doors was a tedious business, but he was followed that day by a television crew, and any coverage he obtained would multiply the productivity of his time enormously. He chose to work in a terraced street area, where the close-packed houses were especially efficient to cover. The first call proved to be typical of the morning. A fifty-something woman opened the door.

  “Good morning, madam,” Miller said cheerfully. “I’m Jamie Miller and I’m the leader of the Don’t Vote for Me party. Do you have a moment?”

  “I’ve already had election people round this morning,” she replied wearily. “I’m not really interested in politics.”

  “Great,” Miller said. “Can I rely on you not to vote for me then?”

  “Um… what do you mean?” she asked.

  “I’m asking people not to vote for me,” Miller explained. “That’s the crux of my campaign.”

  “Wel
l, I haven’t really thought about it yet,” she answered. “Why shouldn’t I vote for you?”

  “Because I don’t intend to do anything at all about all the things that matter to you,” Miller said. “I guarantee electing me will be of no benefit to you whatsoever.”

  “Well, at least that’s honest,” she responded, “but I don’t think any of the others ever did anything good for me either.”

  “Yes, but do they give you a cast-iron promise to do you no good?” Miller asked.

  “No, they don’t,” she said. “Just the opposite – the buggers. But you seem a nice chap.”

  “Well, look, do you like me and do you trust me?” Miller asked.

  “I might,” she said.

  “Then please,” Miller said, “take my word for it, love. Don’t vote for me. Tell me I can count on your wholehearted lack of support.”

  “Okay then,” she said. “I’ll try.”

  “I can’t ask for more than that,” Miller said, “but just remember – don’t vote Miller. Thanks for your time, love.”

  Early the next morning Miller sat with King, watching his doorstep encounter featured in a TV news bulletin.

  “That’s terrible,” King said. “You’re being far too nice. You need to seriously piss people off. Be more aggressive. Look as if you’re drunk – and fart or something.”

  “Yeah, I think you might be right,” Miller said. “I’ll have to sharpen up a bit.”

  “Why exactly are you doing this, Jamie, if there’s no money in it?” King asked. “There must be better ways to get a kick out of life.”

  “I find it interesting,” Miller answered. “I like communicating and this is a fascinating communication challenge. And besides, I can have a kind of pop at the national interfering industry.”

  “What’s that then?”

  “You know: everybody wants to either force me to do something or not do something. Or even think something or not think something. The thought police, the health and safety freaks, the tax gatherers, the law makers and the pontificators; and all the cause-driven opinionated bastards who want to compel me to share their opinion or do their will.”