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'Another one, Steve?' he asked of his immaculately dressed companion.
Stephen Kendrick looked somewhat out of place in his light grey Armani mohair suit, pearl white cuffs and immaculately manicured hands clasped around a glass of Federation bitter, a draught beer for which the bars of the Palace of Westminster afford a warm home.
'Now you know better than me that Strangers can't buy drinks here. And anyway, I've only been here two weeks and I wouldn't want to ruin my career by having anyone see the Prime Minister's pet Irish wolfhound forcing drinks down the Opposition's newest and fastest rising backbencher. Some of my more dogmatic colleagues would treat that as treachery!'
He grinned and winked at the barmaid to attract her attention. Another pint of dark bitter and a double vodka-tonic were quick in coming.
'You know, Rog, I'm still pinching myself. I never really expected to get here, and I still can't decide whether it's a dream or just a bloody awful nightmare. When we worked together at the same little PR shop seven years ago, who would have guessed you would now be the chief grunter for the Prime Minister and I would be a humble if wonderfully talented Opposition MP?'
'Certainly not that little blonde telephonist we used to take turns with' ribbed O'Neill. They both chuckled at the memory of younger and more frivolous days.
'Dear little Annie' mused Kendrick.
'I thought her name was Jennie' protested O'Neill.
'Rog, in those days I never remember you being fussy about what they were called.'
The banter finally broke the ice between the two men which had been slowly thawing with the drink. When O'Neill had telephoned the new MP to suggest a drink for old times' sake, they had both found it difficult to revive the easy familiarity which they had known in earlier years. They had been careful, perhaps too careful, to avoid the subject of politics which now dominated both their lives and it had forced their conversation along artificial lines. Now O'Neill decided to take the plunge.
'Steve, I don't mind you buying the drinks all night as far as I'm concerned. The way my masters are going at the moment, I think a saint would be driven to drink.'
Kendrick accepted the opening. Tour lot do seem to be getting their robes of office in something of a twist. There are all sorts of weird rumours going round this place about how Samuel is furious with Williams for putting his head on the block with the PM, Williams is furious with Collingridge for screwing up the election campaign, and Collingridge is furious with just about everyone.'
'Maybe it's simply that they are all tired after the election and can't wait to get away on holiday' O'Neill responded. 'Like an irritable family squabbling about how the car is packed before taking a long trip.'
If you don't mind me saying, old chum, I think your leader is going to have to put an end to all the bickering very quickly, or else hell go into the Summer Recess with the family looking more like a pack of Westminster alley cats. No Prime Minister can afford to let those sort of rumours run away from him, otherwise they begin to gain a life of their own. They become reality. Still, that's where you and your vast publicity budgets come to the rescue, like the Seventh Cavalry over the hill.'
'More like Custer's last bloody stand' O'Neill said with some bitterness.
'What's the matter, Rog, Uncle Teddy run off with all your toy soldiers or something?' Kendrick asked with genuine curiosity.
O'Neill emptied his glass and Kendrick ordered another round.
'Between you and me, just as old chums, Steve, he's run off with almost all of them. Hell, we need to find new friends more than ever, but instead of going onto the offensive the Chairman seems content to retreat behind the barricades'
'Ah, do I detect the cries of a frustrated Publicity Director who has been told to shut up shop for a while?'
O'Neill banged the bar in exasperation. 'I shouldn't tell you this, I suppose, but as it's not going to happen there's no harm. The new hospital expansion programme which we promised at the election giving matching Government funds for any money raised locally. We had a wonderful promotional campaign, all ready to go throughout the summer while all you bastards were off on the Costa del Cuba or wherever it is you go'
Kendrick held his silence, not responding to the jibe.
'By the time you all came back in October, we would have won the hearts and minds of voters in every marginal seat in the country. We had the campaign all set! Advertising, a party political broadcast, ten million leaflets, direct mail. "Nursing Hospitals Back To Health." It would have made a wonderful build-up to the party conference as "The Party Which Delivers". But... he's pulled the plug. Just like that'
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