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Sir Robert Walpole walked into one of the various drinking rooms at the Palace of Westminster. Scanning the room he saw several lords and MPs all gambling over card games and laughing heavily through a thick cloud of smoke.

He ignored the noise and smoke haze and continued to look around the room. Amidst all this amusement he noticed a lonely figure and started walking toward him.

In the corner sat Lord Townshend, staring gloomily into his drink. Trying to conceal the grin he felt growing over his face, Robert walked through the card players and singing lords and dropped himself into a seat across from Lord Townshend.

“Drinking alone?” Robert asked, gesturing to the empty seats.

“It seems someone stole all my drinking partners,” Lord Townshend replied. “The Postmaster-General and the Southern Secretary have all decided to agree with you on this treaty with the Austrians. I have no friends left in Cabinet it would seem.”

“You could come to Vienna with me to sign the treaty. Change your mind and keep your reputation.”

“No,” Lord Townshend said, slamming his glass down onto the table. “I do not believe in this treaty and I will have nothing to do with it.”

Lord Townsend waited a moment and then said, “I’m going to the palace to tell the King that I resign from his Cabinet. I can’t believe you would do this, Robert. Push your own family out of his job.”

“You’re my brother-in-law; not my brother. Anyway, I believe in an alliance with Austria as much as you do not. It will give us peace, it will stop wars. If you wish to leave the Cabinet over such a decision then I won’t stop you,” Robert replied.

Lord Townshend drained the rest of his glass before rising to his feet, taking several steps away from the table before he turned to face Robert once more.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’ve done. I’m about to resign. Lord Sunderland is long since dead and Lord Carteret stuck in Ireland. You’re the most powerful man left in Cabinet. Sir Robert Walpole, King of the Government.”

“I’m not a king,” Robert laughed, signalling for a drink from the waiter that was walking around the tables. “I am merely one of the King’s ministers.”

“His prime Minister,” Lord Townshend said, turning his back upon Robert and walking out of the room. “You are his prime Minister”, Lord Townsend muttered as he went through the door, acknowledging the doorman with a curt nod.

Inside the room Sir Robert Walpole watched as the waiter filled his glass. “Prime Minister”. That sounded good.

He sat alone for a few more minutes. Whilst the idea of being the Prime Minister of his King appealed, Sir Robert doubted the title would stick.

Here is Richard reading the story to you.

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