Keir and Lord Ali discover that nothing ignites romance like a heated debate over parking fines—especially in a Westminster broom cupboard.
Chapter 1: A Most Un-British Scandal
Sir Keir Starmer, leader of Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition, had always prided himself on his unshakable dullness. But even pillars of virtue, it seemed, could crumble under the weight of a clandestine tryst with Lord Ali, a crossbench peer whose sole qualifications for the House of Lords were a £3 million donation to the Save the Newt charity and a lingering smell of cigar smoke from the 1980s. Their affair began innocuously—exchanging glances over a debate on municipal parking fines—before escalating to feverish encounters in the Palace of Westminster’s broom cupboards.
It had all started innocently enough, with the most British of pastimes—debating the finer points of municipal parking fines. But soon, Sir Keir found himself confiding in Lord Ali over increasingly esoteric matters of public policy, which, much like their growing affair, had absolutely nothing to do with reality. The hours spent in those shadowy corners of Westminster, their lips brushing only the finest of parliamentary rhetoric, had, of course, become a far more urgent matter than the collective wellbeing of the nation.
Their first encounter had taken place in the broom cupboard adjacent to the Speaker’s office—a place as inconspicuous as their so-called “romantic” rendezvous. Whispers of whispered promises filled the space as the two men engaged in an intellectual duel about the unsung virtues of pro-rata parking tickets for disabled cyclists. The air was thick with both tension and the musty scent of long-forgotten cleaning supplies. No one had noticed, of course. After all, this was Westminster, where the real business was done in the backrooms, not the debating chambers.
Lord Ali, with his commanding presence and evident disdain for both public service and personal hygiene, had the upper hand in their interactions. It was a game of power as much as passion, as each man tried to outdo the other in political posturing, using phrases like “empower the disenfranchised” and “decentralise the monarchy” to describe their increasingly sordid and entirely unreported activities. But the game, as it always did, was destined to fall apart.
Chapter 2: The Scandal Brews
By the time the affair had become known—thanks to a hastily leaked memo detailing the unholy union between Sir Keir and Lord Ali—the British public had been through exactly zero surprises. After all, this was the nation that had survived the clashing personalities of the Blair years, the perennially slippery Johnson, and the endless parade of scandals involving more questionable figures than a tabloid celebrity reunion.
The revelation of a secret rendezvous in broom cupboards could hardly compete with the latest bout of “panic buying” or an MP accidentally revealing their plans to cut public health funding during a wine-soaked Zoom call. However, the nation did raise an eyebrow, albeit one that had long ago become disillusioned with Westminster’s ability to do anything without making it into a farce.
As the affair took on a life of its own—complete with sordid whispers, strategically placed reporters, and a deeply concerned but entirely ineffectual royal family—Sir Keir’s reputation for mediocrity began to look, for the first time in his career, positively heroic. The press, of course, had a field day, even as they struggled to focus on any actual policy issues. Instead, they honed in on the optics of the affair, marvelling at the absurdity of it all.
“It’s not so much the affair,” one journalist opined, “but the fact that these two seem so bloody boring while doing it.”
Chapter 3: The Political Fallout
The affair, much to Sir Keir’s horror, had managed to outlive its initial spark of controversy. What had begun as a casual bit of gossip had spiraled into a full-blown political disaster. The Labour Party’s image, already in tatters from years of dithering, was now irreparably stained by an affair conducted in the most quintessentially British of locations—among the dusty shelves of a Parliament broom cupboard.
Pundits were quick to note that Lord Ali’s involvement was hardly one of moral elevation. A man with no particular political ideology, no distinguishing expertise, and an unparalleled ability to remain just within the bounds of legality, Lord Ali had become the ultimate symbol of Westminster’s corruption by the absurdity of its characters. He had the power to single-handedly taint any cause he supported—and that included whatever it was that was left of Sir Keir’s dignity.
Chapter 4: The Conspiracy of Silence
As the scandal grew, the conspiracy of silence surrounding it became more pronounced. Sir Keir’s colleagues, most of whom were too entrenched in their own minor scandals to make any waves, chose to keep their mouths firmly shut. The more senior members of the party—those who had long since perfected the art of moral equivocation—simply nodded and moved on.
Meanwhile, Lord Ali, who had long claimed to possess “a great understanding of international affairs” despite having only visited Luxembourg once in the 1980s, was too busy fielding calls from disgruntled donors who had decided that the charity wasn’t worth their while if it was associated with broom cupboard liaisons.
Chapter 5: The Unraveling
As is often the case with such farcical affairs, the moment of truth came when Sir Keir was asked, under the harsh glare of a BBC interview, about his relationship with Lord Ali. With the deadpan sincerity that had made him famous, he answered, “I believe in second chances… for parking tickets, for MPs, and for personal privacy. But not, I’m afraid, for broom cupboard rendezvous. That would be beneath me.”
The British public, ever so accustomed to mediocrity, had already moved on. But for Sir Keir and Lord Ali, the affair had left an indelible mark on their careers, which would forever be defined by their ill-fated dalliance in a broom cupboard.
And so, the Westminster farce continued, as absurd and utterly British as ever.
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