Let's all go down the Strand - Images of 1984 reboot
- Thread starter Will Ritson
- Start date
Subscribed! Nineteen Eighty-Four is one of my favourite books, and I love the style you've gone for here. Looking forward to more!
See, I like it because it makes the whole thing that more plausible. If we assume the world is as its presented in the book then the book's timeline is incredibly tight. You have to work in the atomic wars, the British civil war, the annexation of the entire British Empire and Latin America by the US, and the rise to power of the English Socialist Party after some sort of revolution throughout the entirety of this new Oceanic superstate all in less then twenty years.
Now I personally believe that Orwell meant for the three superstate world order to be fact when he wrote the book (he was partly inspired to write it by the WWII Allies' dividing the world into spheres of influence).
If you look at 1984 as alternate history, however? The idea that the English Socialists seized power in Britain and then just lied about the world order as a means of control is, in my opinion, more realistic.
Thanks folks.
For the purposes of this timeline I will be casting a "butterfly net" over the weather. Despite the changes that this timeline will see, the weather remains the same.
This will be particularly seen in the next entry, but also when we reach 1947, 1962 and 1976, for instance.
I hope this is OK, without suspending belief and making the timeline ASB.
For the purposes of this timeline I will be casting a "butterfly net" over the weather. Despite the changes that this timeline will see, the weather remains the same.
This will be particularly seen in the next entry, but also when we reach 1947, 1962 and 1976, for instance.
I hope this is OK, without suspending belief and making the timeline ASB.
II :: I went to a marvellous party
You know people's behaviour away from Belgravia would make you aghast / so much variety watching society scampering past...
-----
Euston Station, London. Monday, 26th October 1931
It's looking pretty disastrous, old chap.
Oswald Mosley shook the hand of Jimmy Maxton as he dismounted the train at and onto the platform.
Aye.
Replied Maxton, weary from the overnight journey from Glasgow, and not particularly relishing the journey home in a little over four hours time - never mind the General Election tomorrow.
D'ye fear for the party like I dae?.
Maxton's broad Glaswegian accent brought a sly smile to Mosley's face. A smile that alluded to intelligence, yet was the same as that as a small boy on Christmas morning, yet Maxton found this quite comforting, given the circumstances.
The Labour party was on the brink of schism. At the call of Mosley, arguably one of the most influential politicians across the party, despite his recent forming of the "new party", and respected by all political hues, Maxton had come to discuss the impending collapse. The pair wandered past the arch and crossed the road to a coffee shop near the new Friends Meeting House - a venue comfortable for Maxton, yet one with a certain rustic charm that reflected Mosley's idealist approach to socialism.
We must, as a unified party, endorse the Birmingham proposals.
Uttered Mosley suddenly and with a degree of urgency.
I have advocated this economic policy for the party for several years, and we must regroup around it. If the party is to become electable again, we must focus on an attractive economic policy.
The two sat in silence for a few moments.
I'll see what I can dae.
Maxton shrugged, shaking his head, but even he knew that economic reform needed to be at the centre of the Labour party policies in the future.
And so it happened.
The following day the Labour government was reduced to a small number of seats at Westminster, with Ramsay MacDonald heading a National Government dominated by Conservatives. With his closeness to MacDonald, and mutual respect for Maxton, Mosley began negotiations for his "New Party" to find reunification with Labour, and to strengthen the political influence of the Independent Labour movement from within.
His first conversation was to be that evening with a would-be writer and former colonial policeman. A man named Blair.
-----
Somerset. 27th January 2014
He waded through the water, looking at the poverty around him.
Farmland, only just recovering after last year, under tens of centimetres of waters. The worst flood in years. Many farms had been abandoned under the regime, but for those subsistence tenants that lived on the Levels this was the worst that they had seen.
Years of neglect had damaged the drainage systems on the Levels, blocking rivers and cuttings. The rain and the storms - seemingly endless for a month - gradually filled the valley.
He approached the edge of the village. The people didn't know that he was coming, but he was recognisable to all. A poor farm boy, no more than twelve, was building an embankment to try to keep the waters out. He looked at the man before bowing and doffing his cap to him. Curious locals came to their windows. Shutters opened and they looked at the well-dressed figure in wellington boots and a waterproof coat.
Whispers began, and people would point, before bowing also.
By gawd one man whispered, astonished. It's only the bloody King
Well do something his wife replied.
And so he did. He offered him a mug of perry.
-----
The 2013-4 storms were one of the worst in recent memory, exacerbated by the neglect of infrastructure in more isolated parts of Britain like the south west. The Somerset Levels flooded, making hundreds homeless and damaging millions of dollars worth of much needed farmland. Storms battered the south and western coastline of Britain, only adding to the feeling of isolation. For the provisional government, working towards a full handover of power from international coalition, it only made things worse. The Prime Minister continued to stay in London. His leading rival did not.
-----
Belgravia. 1983
O'Brien looked at the papers on his desk. He reached over and picked up the mug of fine coffee, adding two spoonfuls of good quality sugar and some fresh whole milk.
The junior civil servant opposite him stood nervously.
O'B: This Smith. You think he's having the wrong thoughts?
CS: Yes. He's making too many trips into the proletariate zones. Last week he was in Hoxton, renting a tom. Last night after work he walked up to Farringdon and visited a cafe on Rosebury Avenue frequented by known criminal elements. The Sadlers Wells fraternity, I understand.
O'B: And he lives where?
CS: Bayswater, Sir. On the Victory Mansions estate between the Park and Paddington. Last night, as in the past, he used the Hammersmith and City to get home before curfew.
O'B: He was out of his way then. Good, good, my man. Keep him under observation
-----
Ha Ha! well, I couldn't have liked it more...
You know people's behaviour away from Belgravia would make you aghast / so much variety watching society scampering past...
-----
Euston Station, London. Monday, 26th October 1931
It's looking pretty disastrous, old chap.
Oswald Mosley shook the hand of Jimmy Maxton as he dismounted the train at and onto the platform.
Aye.
Replied Maxton, weary from the overnight journey from Glasgow, and not particularly relishing the journey home in a little over four hours time - never mind the General Election tomorrow.
D'ye fear for the party like I dae?.
Maxton's broad Glaswegian accent brought a sly smile to Mosley's face. A smile that alluded to intelligence, yet was the same as that as a small boy on Christmas morning, yet Maxton found this quite comforting, given the circumstances.
The Labour party was on the brink of schism. At the call of Mosley, arguably one of the most influential politicians across the party, despite his recent forming of the "new party", and respected by all political hues, Maxton had come to discuss the impending collapse. The pair wandered past the arch and crossed the road to a coffee shop near the new Friends Meeting House - a venue comfortable for Maxton, yet one with a certain rustic charm that reflected Mosley's idealist approach to socialism.
We must, as a unified party, endorse the Birmingham proposals.
Uttered Mosley suddenly and with a degree of urgency.
I have advocated this economic policy for the party for several years, and we must regroup around it. If the party is to become electable again, we must focus on an attractive economic policy.
The two sat in silence for a few moments.
I'll see what I can dae.
Maxton shrugged, shaking his head, but even he knew that economic reform needed to be at the centre of the Labour party policies in the future.
And so it happened.
The following day the Labour government was reduced to a small number of seats at Westminster, with Ramsay MacDonald heading a National Government dominated by Conservatives. With his closeness to MacDonald, and mutual respect for Maxton, Mosley began negotiations for his "New Party" to find reunification with Labour, and to strengthen the political influence of the Independent Labour movement from within.
His first conversation was to be that evening with a would-be writer and former colonial policeman. A man named Blair.
-----
Somerset. 27th January 2014
He waded through the water, looking at the poverty around him.
Farmland, only just recovering after last year, under tens of centimetres of waters. The worst flood in years. Many farms had been abandoned under the regime, but for those subsistence tenants that lived on the Levels this was the worst that they had seen.
Years of neglect had damaged the drainage systems on the Levels, blocking rivers and cuttings. The rain and the storms - seemingly endless for a month - gradually filled the valley.
He approached the edge of the village. The people didn't know that he was coming, but he was recognisable to all. A poor farm boy, no more than twelve, was building an embankment to try to keep the waters out. He looked at the man before bowing and doffing his cap to him. Curious locals came to their windows. Shutters opened and they looked at the well-dressed figure in wellington boots and a waterproof coat.
Whispers began, and people would point, before bowing also.
By gawd one man whispered, astonished. It's only the bloody King
Well do something his wife replied.
And so he did. He offered him a mug of perry.
-----
The 2013-4 storms were one of the worst in recent memory, exacerbated by the neglect of infrastructure in more isolated parts of Britain like the south west. The Somerset Levels flooded, making hundreds homeless and damaging millions of dollars worth of much needed farmland. Storms battered the south and western coastline of Britain, only adding to the feeling of isolation. For the provisional government, working towards a full handover of power from international coalition, it only made things worse. The Prime Minister continued to stay in London. His leading rival did not.
-----
Belgravia. 1983
O'Brien looked at the papers on his desk. He reached over and picked up the mug of fine coffee, adding two spoonfuls of good quality sugar and some fresh whole milk.
The junior civil servant opposite him stood nervously.
O'B: This Smith. You think he's having the wrong thoughts?
CS: Yes. He's making too many trips into the proletariate zones. Last week he was in Hoxton, renting a tom. Last night after work he walked up to Farringdon and visited a cafe on Rosebury Avenue frequented by known criminal elements. The Sadlers Wells fraternity, I understand.
O'B: And he lives where?
CS: Bayswater, Sir. On the Victory Mansions estate between the Park and Paddington. Last night, as in the past, he used the Hammersmith and City to get home before curfew.
O'B: He was out of his way then. Good, good, my man. Keep him under observation
-----
Ha Ha! well, I couldn't have liked it more...
Yes, that's correct. An anonymous junior civil servant working in the Ministry of Love.
Doubleplusgood news!
In more doubleplusgood news, "Let's All Go Down the Strand" has been featured on Mitro's Alternate History Weekly Update
.
Last edited:
Thanks for the patience. I've a couple of things to check out, but it is now most likely to be this evening BST.