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With apologies to the ‘Laird’ and his lovely wife, Tessa.
John ended the call before his mounting anger would make him say something he would later regret. There were so many calls like that and he could never understand why some people were so resistant to the idea of public service.
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Imogen drifted over to her group. Including herself, ten people between mid twenties and late fifties. Five men and five women. Altogether a pretty impressive cross section of life as she knew it. She introduced herself and spent the next half hour sharing in the mundanities of travel and accommodation.
‘So, something had changed in the national psyche. This had led to a stalemate between the ‘Establishment’ and the popular reformers identified as a group in the petition. The mailboxes of every constituency MP were bulging with demands for action, and even for MPs who had made a career out of avoiding other peoples concerns, it all became a little hard to bear. To a man, or woman, they could all see the writing on the wall, and, slowly at first, but gaining pace rapidly, they started to respond to the concerns , if only to ensure they had a chance at the next election. Every parliamentary session included a private members ballot, which allowed an MP to suggest a bill to the house. In that session of two thousand and thirteen to fourteen the ballot was won by Peter Mahew, the member for Newcastle South. It wouldn’t really have made much difference who won it as just about every offer was on the same subject. His bill proposed the appointment of an ombudsman, armed with a far reaching and draconian set of rules that could be enacted retrospectively to ensure that ‘ten-times’ would be enacted fairly and fully within the spirit of the act. The Government had little choice but to allow a vote and, on its third reading, it was passed into law. The office of the Ombudsman opened in late fouteen and Mr. Patrick Finch set about his work.
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