“All those in favour,” said Burgoyne, a second time.
Alan’s hand (restrained by Quist’s) was the only one, apart from those of chair and spy, to not shoot into the air.
“A point of order, chair,” said Quist.
“Those against,” said Burgoyne.
Quist’s left hand rose at the same time as his right attempted to force Alan’s up.
“Passed unanimously,” Burgoyne announced. “Comrade Quist is required to leave the meeting.”
“I refuse to go,” Quist said. “I absolutely refuse. Point blank. Nein, Non and Nyetski. In fact, absolute Nyetski.”
“But you can’t refuse to leave,” said the intense young woman.
“Make me…” said Quist.
“Then Comrades Cooper and Wheelwright will forcibly remove you,” said Burgoyne.
“I’m still not going,” said Quist.
The two fat women rose to their feet.
“I’m still here,” said Quist.
“Throw him out,” said Burgoyne.
“Still present.”
The big pair lumbered forward.
“Lay so much as one fat finger on me and I’ll sue.”
The approaching duo barely hesitated.
“All right, all right,” said Quist. “But you’ll be sorry.”
“Toss him out,” said Burgoyne.
Quist turned to go.
“Thanks, Alan,” he said, under his breath. “Thanks very much.”
The two fatties followed the interloper to the door and waited there once he was gone, in case he attempted to re-enter.
“Now, where was I?” said Burgoyne.
“You’d declared the meeting open,” said the cross-eyed man.
“Get on with it, Burgoyne,” said a red-headed, older male with a grating voice.
“Thank you for your encouragement, Comrade Wyner. I will, I can assure you, get on with it. I most certainly will. Indeed, what I was going to say, comrades, before that unfortunate incident, is that I don’t need to tell you why we are meeting today.”
“Then, why bother telling us?” said Comrade Wyner.
Burgoyne ignored the interruption. “Yet again, the workers are the victims of the anarchy of laissez-faire capitalism with its cut-throat competition, rapid changes in the methods of production and the complete absence of planning.”
“Nonsense,” said the man with a grating voice.
Alan rather thought Comrade Wyner had a point; the only cutthroat competition to be observed in the department was between those at the top of the hierarchy; working methods changed at a snail’s pace, and planning was something they did to excess, even when most plans proved – year in, year out – to be completely irrelevant in the shortest order.
“We produce nothing in an industrial sense,” continued Comrade Wyner. “We’re under attack because someone in the new government hates us.”
This, too, seemed to Alan to be very likely.
“It’s important to understand what is happening here, Comrade Wyner,” said Burgoyne, patiently. “We happen to be enmeshed in the classic symptoms of exploitative productive relations: conflict and antagonism between, on one hand, the controllers of the means of production and, on the other, the overburdened, downtrodden workers.”
“Twaddle,” said Comrade Wyner.
Alan silently agreed. He didn’t think there was much in the way of conflict and antagonism in day-to-day relations with management – resigned compliance was the usual state of affairs – and he didn’t think of himself or his colleagues as, on average, 'unduly overburdened'.
“Now is the time, comrades, for us to rise up and throw off the yoke of capitalist exploitation,” Burgoyne continued. “Now is the moment for us to seize the means of production from the property-owning classes and dispense with the tyranny of commodities.”
“Poppycock,” said Comrade Wyner.
Alan didn’t think there was much to be gained by the seizure of desks, files and in-trays, and, in consequence, found himself in agreement, once again, with Comrade Wyner.
“Then,” Burgoyne continued, “under the systematic organisation of communism, man – using the term in its broadest non-gender specific sense – will emerge as the conscious Lord of all nature, no longer dominated by things – and it is things, comrades, yes, things, which are the greatest impediment to our mastery of our destiny, as a class.”
“Bollocks,” said Comrade Wyner.
“Comrade chair,” said the intense young woman, “what has our organiser, Angry Eric – Comrade Nesbitt – had to say about this morning’s announcement …. and what does he propose to do about it?”
“And shouldn’t we be finding out what the journalists are going to do, with a view to unity and solidarity?” asked the cross-eyed man.
“The journalists are puppets of the capitalist expropriators,” said a woman with a huge nose: “unrepentant agents of hegemony.”
“Comrades,” said Burgoyne, “I hadn’t yet got to the bits of my opening address about unity and solidarity but I was, I can assure you, on my way there.”
“I move that we take industrial action,” said the woman with the huge nose, “to let those management running dogs know how serious we are and to show them we aren’t going to take this lying down.”
For some reason Alan’s mind wandered to the old saying about the consequences of snuggling up to canines.
“I move that we take immediate industrial action,” said the woman with the huge nose.
Everybody present seemed to have a view about this proposition; hardly anyone was silent.
“Order, order,” said Burgoyne, tapping his teaspoon against his flute.
“In answer to the question put to me by Comrade Bright, I am able to tell you that Comrade Nesbitt, our organiser, is almost speechless with rage. He has told me that he will not tolerate the loss of so much as a single job. He is – not to put too fine a point on it – livid, and he is talking to the secretary as we speak.”
‘Angry’ Eric Nesbitt was infamous both for his temper tantrums and the unmitigated depravity of his vocabulary. Alan wasn’t the only person in the room to feel sorry for the secretary.
“A point of order, chair,” said the cross-eyed man. “There is at least one motion before the meeting, proposing industrial action.”
“I think that you’re referring to things that were more suggestions regarding ways ahead than formal motions, Comrade Sidcup. And, in any event, they employed emotive language entirely inconsistent with scientific socialism and they failed to specify what sort of industrial action should be taken.”
“I was carried away with revolutionary zeal,” said the woman with the huge nose. “I withdraw the motion or both motions but still think we ought to be sticking it up the management pigs.”
“Thank you,” said Burgoyne. “Motion or motions withdrawn and, in answer to the question directed to the chair about joint action with our journalist comrades, I’d say that on past form it may be some days before the position of their union becomes clear.”
“The double-dealing deviationists,” said the intense young