Modern British History
The early 21st Century Part 3 - Return to Conscription
Paper written by Dr. David Richardson Imperial College London, 21 September 2020
A quarter of a century ago, the New Liberal Party swept to power in the United
Kingdom general elections. The New Liberals, formed in 1983, started out with a
large group of senior businessmen and woman as well as leading non-political
figures dissatisfied with the centuries old Government-opposition status quo.
Their plans, including the isolation of Britain from Europe, scrapping the
parliamentary system, imposing draconian punishments for crime and the
re-introduction of Conscription, were considered too radical in booming 1980's
Britain. At election after election, they failed to attract even a small
percentage of votes. Three events would soon change the fortunes of the New
Liberal Party, along with Britain and millions of its young men, more than any
of its well-off late 20th century citizens could have imagined.
In early 1990's Britain, an already huge recession became a depression overnight
following a botched Government European Monetary Project. Millions became
unemployed with little or no state support. Crime soared to previously unseen
levels. The resultant corruption forced foreign companies and investors to quit
Britain enhancing the misery and ever increasing poverty gripping this once
prosperous land. With the army patrolling the streets, the Government had to
admit defeat and dissolve parliament. Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher resigned
one week later.
Swallowing its pride, the United Kingdom resorted to a series of loans from the
International Monetary Fund. By 1993, Britain was on its feet again, albeit
without a Government or any industry and heavily in debt. Another recession at
that point would undoubtedly have sent Britain into Third World status. The hung
parliament finally agreed to hold elections in summer 1995. The Iron Lady
Margaret Thatcher stunned the world by coming out of retirement and announcing
her intention to stand for parliament as the leader of the New Liberal Party -
Working to keep Britain Great!
Dr Richardson's paper will be continued in next months' edition of The Worker.
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Thursday 23rd February 2020
Conscript 38604E/2020 - unknown date 2020
Here she comes, that new girl. I don't know why she always looks so down. She
should try trading places with me for a day. By the time she strolls into this
factory at 9.30, I've already been standing at this damn machine for four hours.
At least she looks a bit happier going home in the afternoon. I wonder if she
ever spares a thought for me working through until 10pm. I guess not. Why should
she notice me out of five hundred or so naked men chained to machines? It's the
only highlight of my day, my life, watching the office girls walk past along the
gangway right next to my machine. I only know when it's a weekend because there
are no office girls to watch. Well, when I say watch, I mean look out of the
corner of one eye. Mrs Bates, our section chief, gets paid a commission for our
work so she is pretty handy with that damn whip. The 20 guys in my section, we
have our little tricks. My favourite is to drop one of the components on the
floor, bend over to pick it up and have a good long look at a passing
secretary's legs. In fact, that new girl is walking past right now. Whoops, I'd
better pick up this part. Wow! Those legs get better and longer every day. Great
tights, or maybe stockings, no doubt made by some conscript chained up at that
hell hole in Nottingham. I wonder who polishes her shoes. Some guys get all the
good jobs. She smells fantastic to. Now, when I straighten up, I usually swing
round to check Mrs Bates is reading her newspaper. That's strange, she's not in
her chair. WHACK! "Back to work slave!" Yes Ma'am I cry. Damn!. That whip caught
my back just as I was getting up. S**t, my back feels like it's on fire. How can
any man work in such pain? I turn to see Mrs Bates returning to her chair. I see
the slave 31008H/2019 next to me. 2019, he has been here maybe a year longer.
His back is red raw. Do I look the same? His testicles are blue and swollen from
the knee of Mrs Bates and those psycho HM overseers. Will I look like that?
I can't believe I've got another 12 hours left. I can't believe I've only been
here a month. At least 20 more months chained to this machine, being kneed and
whipped.
Daniella Peterson - Thursday 23rd February 2020
Bloody traffic. I've been late every day since I started. This new job is so
dull, I just had to get out clubbing last night. I sure regretted it this
morning though. Mum and Dad's new house slave isn't much better than the old
one. When I got home last night, he was asleep and I couldn't see any sign of my
clothes for the morning. I left a note for him to sort out my clothes. Mum and
Dad say I'm too soft but he has to wake up at 4am, do his regulation physical
training, wash the cars, prepare the bathrooms and then make breakfast for the
four of us. So, I let him sleep. Mum is very strict. Our last slave was sent
back to God only knows where. At least Mum has one saving grace, she lets our
slaves wear shorts. The slaves at work aren't so lucky. Yuk! The last thing I
need every morning is to look at those factory slaves' bruised testicles.
How I hate this place. A big ugly concrete building. Two miserable and cold
looking slaves open the outside door for me. What boring lives, standing to
attention at a door all day. I suppose I'd better smile at the Receptionist.
Those four slaves standing to attention at the "Spare Slaves" area are still
there today. Now the part I really hate - the main factory. Rows upon rows of
slaves chained by one ankle to noisy machines. I'm told they wash, eat, sleep
and go to the toilet at the machine. I've no idea how. My older brother did his
time in a hotel laundry and they were unchained at night, for obvious reasons.
My other brother, we are twins, has about 18 months left and isn't so lucky. I
think he works, no doubt permanently chained, as a ship building slave in
Scotland.
It never ceases to amaze me. When I stopped off for petrol today, I had no cash.
Ignoring the mumbling slave standing to attention chained to the pump, I went
inside to pay by VISA. The men in the forecourt and in the shop stopped
everything to stare at me. You'd think they'd never seen a woman in a short
skirt before, ha ha. Now, walking through this noisy factory, you'd think the
slaves, chained up for God knows how many years, would look too. Not at all.
Every single man has his eyes directly ahead concentrating on his work.
I've come to recognise a few of the slaves, the ones chained to machines by the
gangway. There is "fat boy" slave 31236A/2019 with thick glasses in the very
first row. One thing I noticed straight away was the skin on his flabby right
ankle sticking out either side of his shackle - disgusting. If these slaves also
have to do regulation PT every morning, I would think fat boy has a very hard
time indeed. Maybe it's my imagination but his back looks a little more scarred
and his balls a little darker and more swollen than the other slaves. Yesterday,
"Gorbachev" slave 30913A/2020, with the birthmark on his shaved head, stopped
work as I wandered by. He was reaching into his machine maybe trying to clear
some sort of blockage. His section chief stormed across screaming at him to
stand to attention. Seconds later I heard a squeal of pain and spun around to
see him sprawled on the floor in severe pain. Wow, these boys don't have much
fun.
So, on this Thursday morning, my hangover clearing I am half way along this
noisy gangway. A slave 38604E/2020 who I hadn't noticed before appears to throw
a piece of metal on to the gangway. With his ankle chain nearly at full
extension, he walks across, bending to pick his part up. His section chief is
already out of her chair, whip high in the air. WHACK! Ouch, even I felt that!
I've never even held a whip, I don't have a "Whip Certificate" but my company is
sending me on a course next month.
Vanessa Bates - Thursday 23rd February 2020
It's not a bad job, 9 to 4 Monday to Friday. I've been here for nearly three
years now. I'm responsible for Section 20/B at BMC alloys, a subsidiary of the
car giant AUTO. My section has 20 slaves working at pressing machines making
brackets and other smaller parts. I studied Manufacturing Engineering at Bristol
University majoring in Conscript Production so am also involved in planning the
workload and estimating the output of each slave team.
It's so hi-tech now that lights flash and alarms ring if even one of my slaves
falls behind schedule. Of course, I can't sit and watch them work for 16 hours a
day so an automatic system lets me know every morning what they get up to when
I'm not here.
A typical day starts with me printing out the output for the previous evening
and early morning. I don't usually expect any surprises. The real overseers from
HM Conscription Service patrol the factory in the evening and morning. After
checking the outputs, I call the slaves to attention and order each man to
report. "Report Slave!". "No problems to report Ma'am". Of course, some slaves
do something stupid and jam their machine causing a delay to production. I
already know about this of course but have to let them know such clumsiness is
not tolerated. I'll give an example from last week:
"Report slave 31726D/2019".
"Problem Ma'am at 5.47am. Had to clear debris from upper die Ma'am"
"Why didn't you keep your upper die clean slave?"
"I umm Ma'am I think I cleaned it at....."
"Think!" I slammed my knee squarely into his groin.
"Straighten up slave! Stand to attention!"
"You caused a delay of 7 minutes slave"
"Yes Ma'am"
I nodded my head in disgust. "Get on with your work slave!"
"Yes Ma'am"
Of course, it was an everyday problem on any machine which was working so many
hours at high speed. The welts on his back told me that the HM overseer had
encouraged him to hurry up with his 7 minutes cleaning but I have to instil
discipline and respect into my slaves. Jane Sanderson in Section 18/A took home
a lot more money than me last month. I don't want to lose money because of a
slave's clumsiness.
So, this Thursday another boring morning. No problems to report Ma'am - music to
my ears. Whip on the table, make myself comfortable, time to order a coffee.
Even this is automatic. The slave sees it's my phone, I just say "Coffee slave"
and that's it. Coffee slaves are very well disciplined. In two minutes, white
coffee with one sugar is placed on my table by a smart slave. It's no wonder.
They know they are one mistake, one complaint away from spending their remaining
time chained to a machine.
From my armchair, I have a good view of all 20 slaves. Slave 31726D/2019 with
his back looking very sore is working very well. So, feet up, a quick check of
the newspaper....Thud! What on earth! That new slave at the end 38604E/2020 has
dropped a bracket on to the gangway. It could've hit that woman. I don't believe
this! He is crouching in her way, she has to walk around him. What a fool! I
won't tolerate such incompetence on my section. His output is already low,
especially between 9 and 930am. I almost run across, whip arm raised, catching
his upper back as he gets up, classic training manual stuff. His face turns in
shock, frozen in agony. He'd learnt his lesson but as always, follow up words
were needed.
"Back to work slave!"
"Yes Ma'am"
Ha ha. It makes me laugh. Slaves say those two pointless words "Yes Ma'am"
because it's part of their training. They're hardly likely to say "No Ma'am"
chained to a machine.
OK, back to coffee and news. Two hours to lunch...
