I had no idea Rishi Sunak’s communications and policy team was so complete. Little wonder he managed to roil all the other contenders.
Liam Booth-Smith. Eleanor Shawcross-Wolfson. Nerissa Chesterfield. John Bew. Rupert Yorke. Douglas McNeil. James Nation. Lucy Noakes. Beatrice Timpson. Leonora Campbell. Sophia Falkner. Horowitz.
Looks like Rishi brought the band back together, brought the treasury team back together. Especially Horowitz. Those snazzy Twitter graphics had people gossiping about Rishi’s leadership ambitions when he was still chancellor. All those photos of Rishi at work in book-laden offices, white shirtsleeves rolled up, letters and pen in hand, brow creased in thought and concern. The digital campaign was genius.
But like you said, if there’d been no “Bridgerton” and mixed-race Queen Charlotte wielding power, there’d be no prime minister of Indian descent. Much like if there’d been no “West Wing” and President Matthew Santos, there’d be no President Barack Obama. Form follows fiction. People have to become comfortable with a fictional reality played out on television and on the screens in their hands before they’ll accept the real thing. The medium is the massage, eh.
Horowitz played every trick in the book. I don’t mean to sound surprised. Is he 30 years old yet? Didn’t his father model the Alex Rider character in his novels on him? I’m sure I read that somewhere.
Interesting family. His grandfather was a solicitor, known as a fixer for the other side, for prime minister Harold Wilson. His illicit business dealings weren’t revealed until his death. Millions squirrelled into Swiss bank accounts under assumed names, the money never recovered, the family forced into bankruptcy.
The family home, White Friars, was so big it had to be sold and when demolished it was replaced by no fewer than 16 five-bedroom houses. The ensuing generations have flipped from side to side.
Cass Horowitz had burnt through reporting jobs at ITV, Sky News, Channel 4 and the BBC before he turned up at the firm begging for a job, any job. You said yes to hiring him. I said no more loudly. So he went off and started his own consultancy which led to project work on the Conservative Party’s Instagram account and here we are.
Horowitz has almost managed to turn a man who is richer than the King, who worked for investment banks and hedge funds that decimated companies and communities, who married a software heiress who is British-based but non-domicile to avoid paying tax, who attended one of the best colleges at Oxford as a man of the people. I should have said no a lot more quietly. And listened to you a lot more closely.
Another changing of the guards. No doubt the pound sterling has found its feet again and traders have stopped crashing government bonds. It’s a funny business isn’t it, finance? Jackals and sharks in tailored Henry Herbert suits cut just a touch too tight, selling and short-selling everyone’s future.
The smartest financiers ultimately make their way into politics because that’s where the money is. Not in remuneration but in the keys to the kingdom, the keys to the treasury, the ability to print and trade funds out of thin air. There’s no better game in town.
Goldman Sachs was where Rishi earned his stripes. Since 2005 there has always been a Goldman Sachs alumnus serving as G7 prime minister, finance minister or central bank chief. Why take over a company when you can take over a country?
Even as liberalism unravels, they’ll pry out as much capital as possible. They’ll steal and plunder and push absurd austerity measures as millions of Britons go hungry.
Inflation now stands at over 10 percent, disposable income is falling through the floor, demand for food banks is outstripping supply for the first time. Energy bills are exploding and energy blackouts are coming in January. The poor always pay. That’s their job.
I hear there’s talk of a general strike. Hopefully the pitchforks won’t be too sharp and you and Sandra will be safely ensconced in your country estate. Have you finished the panic room? I imagine it’s the ideal place to write your memoirs as you’ve always threatened. Peace and quiet amidst the rising turmoil.
We always joke that the Conservative Party has no idea what’s going on but surely they realise they’re created this political mess and disintegration. After 12 years in power, they’re out of ideas. Clinging on to the myth that balancing the budget by cutting social spending will solve all ills.
When of course it never has and never will. It’s what’s led us to the mess we’re in. But that won’t stop them preaching the gospel of Margaret Thatcher.
Seems the whole nation will be taking a few steps backwards before moving forward.
Thank you for reading this chapter of “The Sorrows”, an experimental serial novel about the end of the world written in real-time by Stefano Boscutti. Subscribe now to receive new chapters for free via email.