The Other Minister

           ItwasnearingmidnightandthePrimeMinisterwassittingaloneinhisoffice,readingalongmemothatwasslippingthroughhisbrainwithoutleavingtheslightesttraceofmeaningbehind.HewaswaitingforacallfromthePresidentofafardistantcountry,andbetweenwonderingwhenthewretchedmanwouldtelephone,andtryingtosuppressunpleasantmemoriesofwhathadbeenaverylong,tiring,anddifficultweek,therewasnotmuchspaceinhisheadforanythingelse.Themoreheattemptedtofocusontheprintonthepagebeforehim,themoreclearlythePrimeMinistercouldseethegloatingfaceofoneofhispoliticalopponents.Thisparticularopponenthadappearedonthenewsthatveryday,notonlytoenumeratealltheterriblethingsthathadhappenedinthelastweek(asthoughanyoneneededreminding)butalsotoexplainwhyeachandeveryoneofthemwasthegovernment’sfault.

           ThePrimeMinister’spulsequickenedattheverythoughtoftheseaccusations,fortheywereneitherfairnortrue.Howonearthwashisgovernmentsupposedtohavestoppedthatbridgecollapsing?Itwasoutrageousforanybodytosuggestthattheywerenotspendingenoughonbridges.Thebridgewasfewerthantenyearsold,andthebestexpertswereatalosstoexplainwhyithadsnappedcleanlyintwo,sendingadozencarsintothewaterydepthsoftheriverbelow.