The Sarah Platt Swallowgate Scandal

The following takes place following: Mr. Mayor, National Treasure

Travers sat in his new mayoral office, feet propped up on the old desk, watching the news coverage of his first speech as Mayor of Widdlington. The Master, his chief of staff, rolled his eyes and shook his head as Travers rewound the footage for the fourth time.

Travers: It really is a terrific speech you wrote there, Master Devlin. You should be proud. You know Travers so well…

Master Devlin: Well, it’s mostly false, but I thought you’d like it that way. Anyway, what’s next for Mayor Travers?

Travers: Well, I was thinking we need to christen this office with a nice mayoral oil change…

Master Devlin: Of course… Well then, I guess you better go find your wife.

Travers: Wife? Oh right… Yeah. Of course. Kindly fetch her, please.

Master Devlin: No, Travers. I’m not your Personal Assistant. Besides, I believe she’s shopping. I hear she’s already ordered seventy-seven dresses.

Travers: Oh? Well, she deserves every one of them. She’s a national treasure… Plus it’s tax paid, so that’s fine by me.

Master Devlin: So, Mayor Travers. What are you going to do as mayor?

Travers: Well, I… um… I dunno… settle in?

Master Devlin: Cut ribbons? Visit schools…

Travers: Collect bribes…

Master Devlin: Ohh, straight in with that, eh?

Travers: Nooo… not yet, anyway. Well, let’s see. I did promise tax breaks for strip joints… So I guess we start with that campaign promise. And what better way to do so than with an official visit to The Sass Hole…

Master Devlin: Fine, fine. You arrange, and I will attend.

Travers: We need to find Mr. Konrad for such work… Also, while I’m on a roll, I think we should send the police into Witherfield. Some bad hombres there. I say we go in and break up the undesirable element…

Master Devlin: Very well, Mr. Mayor…

****

Receptionist (over loudspeaker): Mayor Travers, Sarah-Louise Platt is here to see you.

Travers: Ah! Excellent! Send her in, please. Looks like oil changes are back on the menu, boys!

Travers rubs his flippers in glee.

Travers: Now, if you'll excuse us, Master Devlin, I have a meeting with a most valued constituent.

Sarah enters the office.

Travers: Ah, Sarah, my dear! How nice of you to drop in!

The Master glances at Sarah and notices she’s clearly pregnant.

Master Devlin: Good Lord! Umm… *coughs* Travers...

Travers: What?

The Master points at her baby bump.

Travers: Holy Hannah!

Sarah: Hello, Mr. Travers. I thought you’d like to know—you’re going to be a daddy.

Travers: Oh dear…

Master Devlin: How did you get so big so fast? You didn’t look like that on TV last week.

Sarah: Dunno.

Travers: That’s the power of the Travers seed, Master Devlin—super fertile stuff. Works faster than you’d believe… uhh… So… umm… what are you going to do?

Sarah: I’m keeping it. And I’m going to need support.

Master Devlin: This is all we need... For fuck's sake, Travers! You need chemical castration, man... First day in office and already a massive sex scandal about to explode...

Travers: No, Master Devlin, you’re complaining out of turn. There’s no point crying over spilt milk. The question is what to do going forward…

Master Devlin: Very well, what do you intend to do?

Travers: Well, I guess there’s only one thing for it—I’ll have to divorce Mayuri and marry Sarah.

Master Devlin: You can’t be serious?

Travers: I'm dead serious, Master Devlin. The child needs a father. It’s the honorable thing to do. And Travers is an honorable goblin. A noble goblin! The Master facepalms and shakes his head in disbelief.

Sarah: Wait, what? Who says I want to marry you?

Master Devlin: So what is it you do want then, Ms Platt?

Sarah: Child support payments.

Master Devlin: Hold on, how do we know Travers is the father? From what I hear, you’ve had relations with practically every man in Witherfield.

Travers: Yeah! In fact, how do we know it’s even really a baby? It might be a pillow or a sleeping cat or something under there… Take off your clothes and prove it! Sarah starts to undress until the Master stops her.

Master Devlin: Don’t do that… Travers, don’t be a fucking fool.

Sarah: Fine. When do I get my payments then?

Travers: I don’t know… I uh... God damn it, I told you it was a bad idea to swallow it! Travers’ seed is extremely potent! It always finds its way—even through the stomach! Sarah shrugs.

Master Devlin: Wait a minute. Are you saying it was only oral sex, Travers?

Travers: I prefer the term “oil change,” Master Devlin—but yes. Travers Junior only ever goes in the mouth. Strictly oil changes as a matter of policy. Doesn’t like to go anywhere else, you understand…

Master Devlin: Well, there you have it, Ms Platt. I don’t know what the sex education system is like in Witherfield, but clearly not very good. It’s quite commonly known you can't get pregnant that way.

Sarah: But Mayor Travers said that…

Master Devlin: I don’t care what he said. The guy’s a total fool who can’t keep his mouth shut, constantly blabbing nonsense to boost his own image—completely unaware that rumors like this will only make people reject his oil change demands.

Travers’ moustache twitches in annoyance.

Master Devlin: My advice is go home, and try to find the actual father.

Sarah: I can’t go home. Haven’t you heard? There’s a nasty flu going around Witherfield.

Master Devlin: Flu, you say? Hmm. We’ll need to look into that. But I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. But fine… Well, in that case, go get yourself a hotel room—courtesy of the Mayor’s office.

The Master gives her a small roll of twenty pound notes off Travers’ desk and ushers Sarah out of the office.

Travers: Thank you, Master Devlin… you saved my ass again. Even if you did speak out of turn...

Master Devlin: Don't celebrate yet. I can’t believe we’re only one day into your mayorship and you’ve already got major scandals coming your way—and don’t forget, Sarah could still go to the press if she doesn’t get her way. This is ridiculous, Travers—you’ve royally fucked this, you silly prick.

Travers stands up challengingly.

Master Devlin: SIT DOWN, TRAVERS… SIT DOWN!!!

Travers reluctantly sits back down.

Master Devlin (throws Travers a notepad and pen): I need you to list everything you’ve done. Everything you can think of. Anything that could lead to a scandal.

Travers: … 😮

Master Devlin: No buts, Travers. Get to work.

Season 6 continues in The Web of Sleaze