by Hylton Smith
“Is it a major snag?”
“Well it could be, I cannot see the Treasury letting her go without a fight. I mean, when she was foisted on them they were very unhappy. However, by giving her limited authority she has demonstrated very efficient justification in financial Esperanto for the culling of thousands of Civil Servants, without a real protest ensuing - in fact it is forging ahead.”
“I don’t share your pessimism. If we really want her they surely cannot refuse.”
“Well, strictly speaking you are right of course, but I was concerned that we do not make a breathtakingly good appointment only to open up another wound. Command from above might be better softened to a humbly worded personal request, and of course, a recognition of their sacrifice, which would certainly be required in a reference as to her capabilities. This would only make sense if everyone was comfortable with the choice. However, seeking a consensus view might steal some of your thunder in the party ranks, as they perceive decisiveness as one of your many strengths.”
Pontius was falling for it. “I think we should not delay, these things have a habit of leaking out. I shall sound out the head of the Treasury today. Once again Horace you are far-seeing, and I am thankful for your tireless support.”
“In this instance PM the credit should go to Wishbone. He certainly has promise, and by the way, I believe he would be really proud that you referred to him with such personal candour.”
The PM belonged to the genus Chameleon. This ability to change how one appears to others at will, comes at a price. The Darwinian mechanism in this case enabled a change of colour in the proximity of predators, so that blending into the background rendered the chameleon virtually invisible. All of this hinges on the recognition of a predator, if the predator was not perceived as such the colour change would not be triggered, and conversely if a state of paranoia abounded, the colour change would be continuous, which to the eyes of those not in a state of paranoia, would appear as a personality strobe.
Schmuck was completely unaware of this Multicolour Dreamcoat which Horace had woven around him. After all, the colour change was a genetic gift with which he’d always been blessed. The fact that it was now coursing through his system 24/7 gave him one hell of a buzz. He couldn’t wait to write his letter to the Treasury. Such was the pulsing of his kaleidoscope that he didn’t even pause to enquire as to Blanche Albino’s leanings on the EU.
Chapter 25
Dimiscus Fungi, true to character, gathered far too many participants to the exploratory session on a possible review of the Pinstripe case. The Judiciary, University Law Lecturers, Victim Support Agency, Social Psychologists, Detention Centre Management, Community Service Authority, The Law Enforcement Brass, and oh yes, Improbable Richardson.
In the midst of the scramble for the high moral ground, IR had sat back in silence, and wondered why the wearing of a wig in such a gathering would be considered anything but comical. Unless it illustrated that this was part of the real problem - a parallel world - with little experience of living in the more mundane everyday aspects of this one. As he gazed around the room he saw balloons above heads, shouting ‘honest delusion,’ and felt a cold rush of despair. He let this scrum continue for another ten minutes and then slowly rose to his feet, still saying nothing. When the babbling finally petered out he said, “Citizens, please remember - that is what you are, first and foremost, a citizen. Your chosen profession, like mine, is secondary, yet you all strive to complicate a situation unnecessarily. This objectivity and distance you profess to need, to deal with the lives of others is laudable, but it’s also a snare insofar as you aren’t able to directly experience the unjust elements of your own version of justice. I have therefore no alternative but to excuse myself, with the promise that the legal case I’m seeking to prosecute will go ahead immediately, independent of this dog and pony show. Simplification isn’t a dirty word, yet you citizens charged with such important issues see it as a spectre of social regression, pledging yourselves to even more finesse. We all basically have a good idea of what is right and wrong in a ‘civilised society.’ That is why in the distant past we decided to have laws and policing of those laws. Equally, we all know that offering reasons why we have broken those laws can become a jungle of excuses, relating to deprivation, misunderstanding etcetera. Although this may be true, it’s a problem which needs to be addressed elsewhere in terms of correction, but not by manipulating the law itself. I’m here on behalf of Citizen Pinstripe. He’s a model of decency and fits in with the community ethos. On the other hand, Citizen Uranus Ormine made a decision, totally unilaterally, to invade Pinstripe’s domain, and for whatever reason it was his choice and it was wrong. Mr Pinstripe could have invited him to share a cup of tea or some of his hard and honestly earned possessions, but he didn’t. When it became clear to Pinstripe that the intruder was going to take them anyway, and had produced a dangerous weapon as a means of bullying him into compliance, he grabbed a makeshift protective device and indicated he was ready to defend his possessions and his life. That the frog did not leave compounded his wrongdoing and precipitated a struggle. Regardless of the outcome there can only be one aggressor, yet we penalise the victim more because of some twisted sense of social pity for the criminal. It is up to the government to tackle such ludicrous bias, not sidestep their responsibility, and pass the buck on to the Justice system. This is a very dangerous avenue we tread, and you lot are so much part of the traffic you cannot see the abyss approaching. Betrayal is a dirty word. That’s all I have to say right now. I’ll tackle you on your own turf because I’m sure you haven’t taken on board anything I’ve said.”
As he approached the exit the silence convinced him to utter one more condemnation of the group. He made no apologies for singling out the social psychologist, Dremmy Parrasight. It was from a hermaphrodite species, the members of which literally talked themselves into continuous procreation.
“Do you mind trying to explain to me why your profession, and I use this word loosely, believes it is right to reward badly behaved fledglings with music players, and convicted substance addicts with free tickets to elite sporting events which are so popular that most of us would fail to acquire entry? But please spare me the rehabilitation speech. I’m more interested in how you think this makes the well-behaved and law abiding citizens feel.”
It was shocked. It was distraught. It was about to burst into tears when, just in time, the arrogance gene kicked in. “Such a personal attack on another being whose only motivation is to help unfortunate individuals, is a sign of frustration, directed at your limited comprehension of the psyche which accompanies hopelessness.”
“Yes, there you have it folks, even though the question was about the good guys and the bad guys, the answer is only about the bad guys, and their special place in psychologists’ agenda. Maybe that’s a self-fulfilling agenda which encourages more good people to be bad. I really would like to think that ‘it’ didn’t understand the question. That at least would have given me some hope. So you see ‘it’ is wrong again, I do understand hopelessness. Well, toodle-pip, some of us shall meet again in the jousting arena.”
***
Upon his return he was confronted with Citizen Tubthumper, who was never late. Even IR was surprised at this one. Echo reported that Richardson’s leadership in confronting his current challenges, had poked a hornet’s nest. The silent majority no longer felt so helpless, and had themselves decided to raise objections to the renaming of their village. Preliminary enquiries had indicated that this government initiative had not been subject to adequate legal scrutiny, and a compliant Deprived Jimmy had allowed the PC-led dictate to prevail. Further research and citizen support had uncovered evidence that this was part of a trial programme to give the region an image boost, and was considered successful enough to extend the concept to Hell’s Hill. No consultation had been held with the local inhabitants or media. The previous frustration that they could not overturn such an edict had eroded the local resis
tance, until now. Echo had taken a straw poll and found in excess of 98% wanted to return to Redwood Paddock. This had galvanised the media to seek Council standpoint on the matter, but the citizens claimed that if the change was not strictly legal, and unwanted, they would just change back the road signs and relevant paperwork themselves. They would only wait out of respect for IR, until he returned.
“But Echo, these cases I’m fighting are still not won. The fat lady hasn’t even got to her feet on any one of them yet.”
“They don’t want to let that stop them. They know you’re fighting against the odds and that hasn’t stopped you, so they want to go ahead in a way which has the least impact on your own future. They do however recognise that the Nexus of Government will expect you to curb their activities, but they’re sure the law enforcement agents will have to check the law first, and don’t anticipate the entire village population to be incarcerated, so they want to give that problem to the Minister for PC.”
“And the media?”
“Sniffy used all his persuasive powers to get them to hold off until the reversion had been achieved, then go full gas with local coordinated coverage, leaving the nationals to pick up on the story. When he was reminded this would not go down well, as most of the local media were owned by nationals, Sniffy said he had confirmation of a developing story, so big that the nationals would be more than happy with the trade. His reputation won them over.”
“So it is goodbye to Multicoloured Meadow then Echo, the Owl will be ecstatic.”
“The what, sir?”
“Never mind, I’m just so happy for our citizens.”
Chapter 26
On receiving the PM’s barbed request to speak to Blanche, the Treasury boss only just made it to the gents before gushing forth uncontrollably. Recovering to mere ecstasy, he decided not to share this written plea until the transfer was done and dusted. He couldn’t afford to let this gift horse be hijacked. Dazza Dave Ledger (a mellowing wolfhound) visualised a new life dawning if this could be steered through the obligatory screening by the HQ Gestapo. His reply was emphatic that he couldn’t afford to lose an outstanding talent at this time, but, if he was asked to recognise the greater need of the country he would reluctantly comply. As long as a suitable replacement could be installed immediately. He requested that the usual vetting should be conducted as soon as possible so that his imposed timescale on filling the potential vacancy wasn’t adversely impacted. His only fear was that some chance remark, or file, or memo would scupper the move. He was pretty sure only he knew of Blanche’s misdemeanours. He’d been building a case to blow her out, once he had a rock solid legal dismissal scenario, without any mitigating strands of defence she could invoke towards a tribunal.
The PM’s request simplified everything, and a leak from the relevant sources to HQ Gestapo after the transfer would spawn a media witch hunt. His only involvement would be in assisting the unearthing of the evidence. The immediate but simple task of reburying it would be enjoyable, like designing a treasure hunt.
***
Blanche Albino was in awe of Pontius, alternatively nodding and saying yes at the end of every sentence of his sales talk. He then explained the standard vetting process, which naturally caused her a little concern, but she felt confident that if nobody at the Treasury was on to her these hillbillies at HQ would give her a clean bill of health. And so it proved to be, the checks were extremely long-winded and thorough and useless. The appointment was announced to the Cabinet and then the press. For once, the media were confused as to how to portray the apparent absurdity, so the headlines were more about Schmuck’s judgement in such fragmentary re-shuffling of his team.
The leak from Dazza Dave Ledger was to a media heavyweight, and then in turn, Sniffy was briefed to be ready to go in the provinces. Together with his previous tip, Sniffy judged it was time to embroider the Defence Ministry appointment with speculation that the PM no longer appeared to have the confidence of his colleagues, or indeed the rank and file membership.
Without knowing what was about to be exhumed from Blanche’s Treasury crypt, Horace seized on this reading of the tea leaves by Sniffy’s contacts and quickly prepared Wishbone for the ‘Stalking Horse’ scenario.
It wasn’t until the media ‘scent’ about Treasury irregularities graduated to evidence beyond imagination, that Horace realised the situation was mutating out of his control. A change of plan. The stalking horse had to become a straw man. There was no time to lose, he had to derail the curtain call of some obscure party member from an even more obscure constituency. That would not suffice, he or she needed to be a credible challenger, to volunteer for a suicide mission. It was not a question of whether a leadership challenge would prevail, Pontius was more of a decomposing carcass than a lame duck. Horace wasn’t accustomed to being overtaken by events, and his ‘cool’ was under some pressure. Wishbone pondered this crisis, and when the final analysis showed how big the misappropriations by Blanche Albino had been, (piggybacked invisibly and exponentially by some clever programming by Dazza Dave Ledger) he decided to act.
Dazza had successfully used his discovery of Ms Albino’s creative accounting to implicate her in substantial rather than petty harvesting and redistribution of funds. The doctored paper trail and forensic computer accounting search only unveiled her mechanism, no other, and because the kickbacks were traced to foreign bank accounts, it was never discovered that someone else had been involved. Even she was baffled.
***
Wishbone had intended to deliver his challenge at the emergency Cabinet meeting. The PM was radiating colour change at the rate which formed a constant composite white. He felt quite ill with this unfamiliar ailment, yet he became calm in the process, as he acknowledged the ‘no way out sign’ and promptly declared he would stand down. Back came the colour and a feeling of a burden removed. He would broadcast this tonight.
Horace seemed to barely catch up with one developing scenario when another appeared. The need for a leadership challenge was no longer needed from Wishbone, as Pontius had decided that it was better to go with dignity. Horace, as Minister for PC, was never present in the actual Cabinet gatherings. Wishbone decided there was no need for Horace to be burdened with irrelevant information just yet, when his own coronation was now there for the taking. Horace’s campaign to anoint Wishbone seemed to have acquired self-control and ‘mistakenly’ clicked into gear.
***
Returning from community duty to the Joint, the frog was relaxing in the admiration of his contemporaries, and within eavesdropping distance of Malcolm G. The emotions heightened when they discussed the campaign challenge and the written legal challenge delivered by Richardson. The air was particularly thick with smoke, which was of course against the law. The same kind of law that prohibited the very substance abuse currently being practised by many of the audience. The odd pool of regurgitated food punctuated the mass into groups around the horseshoe bar. This fragmented noise made it difficult for Mal G to catch every word, but he was able to circulate to the best vantage point.
The call for fair treatment of Pinstripe was OK by Uranus, but the case for a second charge being brought against himself was troublesome, now that Detroit was involved. He declared that this was stereotypical victimisation of burglars in general, and could ultimately remove the legal protection they currently had, which would drive them to intrude into unoccupied properties, which in turn didn’t normally yield very high return on effort invested. He encouraged the other participants to lobby their friends and local government representatives for legal aid, to challenge this oppression before it got too much momentum.
Malcolm G was canvassed with all the other revellers and he declared his understanding, but as he was not a burglar by profession, he remained neutral. However he would pass the message on to others.
Chapter 27
Sean Bombortwo was really down when Wishbone rang. The call was to let the new Education Minister know that he was going to run for the l
eadership, and he felt it would be more effective if he was talked into it by Sean. He let his friend know of rumours already circulating that Horace had begun to prepare the way, and it could be useful to prod him in that direction. Sean was verging on ejaculation when he was assured that one of the new leader’s first acts would be to rescue him from the barren wastes of fluffy, stultifying educational psychology. The job he had done in Defence seemed even more spectacular, having so recently preceded the microsecond of seedy Blanche’s corrupt tenure.
Wishbone felt there was merit, in these days of terror alerts, to combine Defence and Homeland Security, which would also allow him to ditch that arrogant windbag Dimiscus Fungi. Wishbone also suggested it would be prudent to clean up this IR situation before he became PM, and floated the concept of endorsing Richardson’s actions with the Hospice, by commissioning a local cross-party study group, instead of droning on about central education policy. This would force the psychologists to re-justify their approach. That wouldn’t be easy as long as the Education Minister’s post was still vacant. They would protest, but such objections would gradually fade out of the headlines. He also had to deal with the NOSONICE situation, but this, he instinctively felt, would be better achieved after he was crowned.
Horace was puzzled. He did appreciate Bombortwo’s advice, and agreed that Pontius’ abrupt exit confirmed his own view that there was no time to lose. He was however, extremely concerned that Wishbone may have ‘short circuited’ him, and deviously trashed his own time-honoured role of choosing the next PM. His reconnaissance had revealed that there were only two other plausible candidates who were to run. The Chancellor of the Chessboard, Bristling Jo Maybe, was an elderly hedgehog, but a solid, reliable elitist who had undergone several personality transplant operations, all of which failed to overcome his public school reinforced genetic mould. He was the mandatory choice to fail. The second could be more troublesome as she hadn’t officially been invited to run. Cliffetta Hemisphere, a song thrush, was perceived by the various minorities, (who when they joined forces were the majority) as a breath of fresh narcosis. The druggies, transvestites (she was one, Shemail address was a bit of a giveaway), immigrant communities, single parents, the nouveau eligible youth, detained criminals (with the vote), and unemployed all rallied to her call to reject big brother identity cards, and open their minds to abolition of central government. The banner read ‘Small is Beautiful’ and the message was that localities would manage their own affairs more in line with citizens’ needs. A kind of assembly of regions where ideas were shared, and adoption was at the discretion of the local elected management. She had no lofty office from which to influence the party powerbrokers as she had only attained junior culture minister status, but the energy she had brought directly to many citizens had made the top brass aware of the emerging demographics of disgruntled groups. She would not succeed in this election, especially if it was expedited quickly, but she would have a campaign platform like never before, and this alone would ensure she ran for higher office in the future. The trouble she stirred up would damage the party and the new leader would have to deal swiftly with this burgeoning anarchical trend. The opposition parties would hypocritically make mileage out of it, even though it would ultimately be to their own long term detriment.
