Fill: Circumlocution (Brycow)
anonymous
October 27 2013, 20:09:11 UTC
The night was a cold one, with hardly a cloud in the sky. The light of the moon and streetlamps along the road streamed into the bedroom through the gap in the curtains. Only just audible above the ever present hum of central London living were the sounds of two people in bed.
The bed groaned as the shorter man sat up. “Damn and blast…” he muttered under his breath, his attention shifted away from his eager partner.
“John? John are you alright?” came the other voice, clearly confused.
“Yes, yes, perfectly fine. Just- just lay back down I’ll be - damn it - I’ll be right there.”
The creaking of the bed a second time indicated the other man’s movement. “You don’t sound ‘perfectly fine’.”
“Really I am, I assure you. There’s no need to worry.”
The voice was starting to get impatient. “Come on John, what is it?”
“I’ve already told you, it’s nothing. Now if you would please
( ... )
Re: Fill: Circumlocution (Brycow)
anonymous
October 28 2013, 21:55:40 UTC
Eeeee, Brycow is back! And in such an awesome form.
I was going to commend you for finding a context in which it was genuinely plausible that John would refer to his penis as the Mace. Then I remembered this was John Bercow we were talking about and he was just as likely to do so in casual pillow talk.
But still, this is such a sweet, funny, realistic little fic! We tend to treat all the politicians like teenagers on the meme, but they're mostly pushing fifty- of course this would happen to someone sooner or later. This was a lovely treatment of it. And the slightly formal language of the narration suits them so well.
Suddenly visible in the lamplight was one Chris Bryant, clothed in his absurd y-fronts
Argh, Chris. What have we (and everyone else on the internet and also the whole of the tabloid press) told you about those y-fronts?
“The… Mace is having trouble performing its official duties
( ... )
Reply
Reply
The bed groaned as the shorter man sat up. “Damn and blast…” he muttered under his breath, his attention shifted away from his eager partner.
“John? John are you alright?” came the other voice, clearly confused.
“Yes, yes, perfectly fine. Just- just lay back down I’ll be - damn it - I’ll be right there.”
The creaking of the bed a second time indicated the other man’s movement. “You don’t sound ‘perfectly fine’.”
“Really I am, I assure you. There’s no need to worry.”
The voice was starting to get impatient. “Come on John, what is it?”
“I’ve already told you, it’s nothing. Now if you would please ( ... )
Reply
I was going to commend you for finding a context in which it was genuinely plausible that John would refer to his penis as the Mace. Then I remembered this was John Bercow we were talking about and he was just as likely to do so in casual pillow talk.
But still, this is such a sweet, funny, realistic little fic! We tend to treat all the politicians like teenagers on the meme, but they're mostly pushing fifty- of course this would happen to someone sooner or later. This was a lovely treatment of it. And the slightly formal language of the narration suits them so well.
Suddenly visible in the lamplight was one Chris Bryant, clothed in his absurd y-fronts
Argh, Chris. What have we (and everyone else on the internet and also the whole of the tabloid press) told you about those y-fronts?
“The… Mace is having trouble performing its official duties ( ... )
Reply
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