RICHARD PORTER
Porter eavesdrops on a committee discussing a Matter of Great Importance
The Chairman fired a look of contempt at the man undermining his authority
THE CHAIRMAN LEANT FORWARD, PLACED his elbows on the dark wood table and let his splayed fingers meet in front of his face. “Winter is coming,” he said in the slow and deliberate manner he used when he wanted to sound portentous. “Our people need to know that we know this.”
Further round the U-shaped table to the Chairman’s left, a neat man with gimlet eyes and a tidy beard elevated himself in his seat like a precisely parted meerkat. “I think they would know that we know that, Mr Chairman,” he said crisply.
The Chairman collapsed the spire formed by his fingers into a pair of fists and turned to fire a look of contempt at the man undermining his supreme authority. “Thank you, Mr Secretary. I’m well aware that they would know that we know that,” he growled. “My point is to let them know not only that we know that but also, more importantly, that they know we know and will take steps this winter.”
Three seats away, a slim-faced man in glasses looked up from the large ledger in front of him and made a thin staccato sound, as if attempting to dislodge a solitary grain of sand from his throat. Aware that the other 13 members of The Committee were now looking at him, the thin-faced man twitched and began to speak. “Are you, erm, saying, Mr, erm, Chairman, that we resume work on the, erm, Winter Project of last year?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Mr Treasurer,” the Chairman replied firmly. “We have to help our people to protect…” The Chairman paused for a moment as if searching for words with the appropriate gravitas, “…our most precious assets.”
The Treasurer twitched again. “But, erm, last year I think we agreed that The Project would be too expensive and, erm, that’s why we didn’t go through with, erm, with it.” The Chairman fired a sigh down his nose and was about to speak again when a bright, strident voice piped up from the other end of the table. “Would it be, as it were, erroneous of me to recall from the previous year that the lack of feasibility, so to speak, was beyond purely fiscal?”
Give me strength, the Chairman thought, it’s the bloody Secretary For Events. Of all the people on this damn Committee no one caused him to grind his teeth like the bloody Secretary For Events, the fat-headed, jaunty-voiced idiot. “For it is coming to mind, if you follow me, that there were various other fundamental issues, so to speak…” “There were some aspects to be agreed,” said the Chairman, abruptly. “I would not call them fundamental issues. Fundamental issues would be matters such as poorly worded instructions or inadequate catering provision for all members of The Organisation during an activity…”
The Secretary For Events spluttered. He was a jowly man with rubbery lips and spluttering was something he excelled at. “Are you making some form of insinuation, Mr Chairman?” he demanded, sweat beading on the ham-like expanses of his head.
“It’s not an insinuation,” the Chairman grunted. “But I think we all recall the difficulties of Haverton Bridge last summer.”
“I have very much explained what happened,” hissed The Secretary For Events, defensively, “and I have assured The Committee there will not be a repeat of those issues, as it were. However, I must raise the troubles, so to speak, around this Winter Project of yours, Mr Chairman, and ask if there are alternatives. For example, my wife was suggesting…”
“Your wife is not, and has never been, a member of The Committee,” snarled the Chairman, slapping his hands on the table. “Now listen to me. This is not a time for playing politics, it is a time for taking early action for the greater good of The Organisation. I would remind you that I am your Chairman, as voted by the members of The Committee, and I would like my words to be heeded. The Winter Protection Project shall be investigated further. Do I make myself clear?”
A series of vaguely positive sounds floated from members of The Committee as the Chairman cast around the room with narrow eyes. “Good,” he huffed. “I would like it committed to the record that The Project will be investigated further with all speed,” he added, addressing his remarks to a large lady in a flowery dress at a small table in the corner.
“How shall I write it in the minutes?” she asked, breezily. “Just put ‘Committee to look at selling car covers with club logo on them’,” he muttered. “Will do, Peter,” trilled the lady.
“Good,” purred the Chairman. “Well, that concludes this meeting of the Batley and District MGB Owners’ Club. Can someone tell the barmaid we’re ready for our Thai feast?” ⌧