• C. Peters

A Revolution of the Times - Part 2.1

Updated: May 22

Introducing the lover of Elizabeth Lowe, MP for Walthamstow and future Prime Minister, Hugh Laugher...


Hugh Laugher had become frustrated with his life.

Yes, he had been bought a Chelsea pad by his Dad,

Yes, he had found an extremely attractive wife,

Yes, his first child with his young wife was on its way,

Yes, Hugh knew he was quite the handsome man, a cad,

Yes, he had a job which paid fairly handsomely,

And yes, luckily the buck did fuck once a day.

Obviously, the wife wasn’t quite so dutiful –

She was leggy, an athlete, simply beautiful,

Nor were such happy attentions unusual.

But Laugher too often got himself in trouble.

With the big-lipped, big-boobed American colleague –

Who after a few drinks would do as he so pleased,

An ex, claimed to be from the Aristocracy –

Apparently, she thought she was out of his league,

But yet was paranoid that she was turning fat,

Hugh knew it, and quite simply exploited that fact,

A man who manipulated such low self-worth,

To get inside her mind, to get into her hearth,

And get into her inbred, incredible body.

The only other regular, a nobody,

Or at least she got off on him calling her such,

And a “bitch,” “whore,” “dirty scank to fuck,” “horny itch”,

With dark hair, dark eyes, piercings, and body tattoos,

Who he got in touch with using a hook-up app,

First look at her you’d think she wouldn’t take any crap,

The collar showed she that was into the taboo,

She made it quite clear she didn’t want him to be kind –

But demanded that he be cruel, quite the find,

Wicked, submissive, the opposite of refined.

There's the athletic wife, the ex, co-worker,

And sex with the kinky tattooed girl on the side,

It was so rife, he often hired a sex-worker,

Then he also seduced the odd one-night stand,

Presenting this brooding Don Draper, a Don Juan,

His only struggle was finding the time and place,

Although his father’s business kept good hotels sweet,

Gave him a discount on a central London suite,

His wife’s international lifestyle –

An athlete, often meant she was away a while,

She probably played away too, what could he do –

She likely knew about him, best not know what’s true.

Now that she was pregnant was quite inconvenient,

No more competitions across the continents,

Interested in his offspring’s development -

Maybe, but the daily update became tiresome,

Such when he cancelled on escorts for a threesome –

Having to attend part of a prenatal course.

He didn’t once think about a possible divorce,

For she wasn’t the source of personal frustration.

But more, felt a constant lack of satisfaction.

The women clearly an over-compensation,

A distraction, for and from what he was not sure –

He was never seen with pride by his family,

Father especially, or his father-in-law,

To the latter, too dependent on his parents,

Who thought him too unreliable apparently,

A flake, a rake, a reprobate – drink, drugs, women –

Even though in Hugh there had been a maturing,

Starting with the heptathlete wife, so alluring,

Whose body-beautiful regime forced him clean,

And got him on a strict health and training routine,

He found a passion for her that was enduring.

So reassuring they tied the proverbial knot,

While his fledgling career took an upwardly turn,

Daddy essentially bought him a law degree,

Donating to the Uni to buy a place at LSE,

Despite the average A levels he had got,

He’d learn – there is little in life that cannot be bought,

But Laugher still failed to make it as a lawyer,

The hours were too long, couldn’t get himself in order,

So Hugh went through a string of jobs, like consulting,

Then into banking – again not really his thing,

Bought himself a bar, which he then sold for a loss,

A restaurant, but it wasn’t worth what it cost,

So he took a punt at trying to run a gym,

And in getting models for the advertising,

Who he hit on, was how he met his next of kin,

Crucially, its location in Victoria –

Frequented by politicians, bureaucrats,

Some Labour, Liberal Democrats, some Tories,

Engaging in political policy chat,

He wondered how to monetise that, the gossip,

His Dad employed a lobbying firm, and he got-it,

Selling all but a share in the gym, no profit,

Conditions – board position, vote on decisions,

Surveillance planted to allow him to listen,

“Supervision”, invaluable for tip offs,

And he joined that lobbying company, run by toffs,

Where he soon thought he was something of a hot shot,

He got political intel from ease-dropping,

His connections allowed him to rake business in,

He need not know, believe, or conceive anything,

Yet he found lobbying to be just so depressing,

Don’t change or reform but stall, delay, obfuscate,

Keep the status quo, or win contracts from the state,

Practice rent seeking, keep rules to block new entry,

Hugh didn’t qualm about his responsibility,

Excitedly getting intel illicitly,

But like his affairs, it too became numb, humdrum,

He found business rather dreary, no drama,

Gossip not painting a complete panorama,

Melodrama, was Hugh Laugher losing his edge?

Just as he felt that he was starting to in bed,

Even the gratuitous women he lured there,

Gave him nothing, almost no gratification,

Then news of a sensational bi-election,

A woman in celebration, flowing brown hair,

Curvy, pretty, and a complexion that was fair,

Hugh hadn’t taken notice of why she won, or where,

Instead he had the idea of meeting her,

Lobbying her, flirting with Elizabeth Lowe,

The revolutionary winning Walthamstow,

The revelation was seducing her, knowing –

This sparking a new high was seeking a new low,

But fucking those prostituted to party, no -

Popularity and superiority,

Was sexy, made him feel the good form of dirty,

Fuck a role model who looked quite like a model,

It wasn’t quite in Ethics by Aristotle,

But to not try was quitting, to lose his bottle,

And so Hugh's new goal was corrupting her morals.

See Part 2.2

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