Information
Satire
Having taken steps to solve the problem of the overheating CPU in my Fly On the Wall spyfly device, as outlined in a previous report, your intrepid eyewitness was keen to test the new model. I had managed to further reduce the size of the spyfly from overweight blowfly size to around the size of a mid-sized species of horsefly. An improved miniature cooling fan for the CPU had been installed, incorporating a longer-lasting battery, and I was confident that this would give a longer spying experience.
I therefore once again sent my spyfly, winging its way through the corridors of what passes for power these days, to the office of Grunt Robbingson, the Minister of Sausage Rolls and Finance, as I had grounds to believe that the PM, Justinda Ardeau would be holding an informal chat with him that morning.
Nor was I disappointed as, right on time, the clatter of hooves was heard and Justinda entered the office under the unblinking gaze of the waiting horsefly.
Justinda: Good morning Grunt, how are we this morning? And it is a very good morning, isn’t it!
Grunt: You’re sounding remarkably on your oats this morning Prime Minister. To what do we owe the bright eyes and bushy tail?
Justinda: You must know Grunt. I really showed him, didn’t I?
Grunt: Oh, I think you must be referring to your recent public dissing of our Aussie cobber, Snot Morrison.
Justinda: Of course, Grunt. (Chortles proudly). Yes, I made him look really silly didn’t I? Caught him offside and out of his crease. He was obviously expecting the usual diplomatic claptrap but I showed him that I, Justinda Ardeau, am not to be trifled with. Corrosive is such a good word, don’t you think? Did you see the look on his face Grunt? Priceless!
Grunt: Do you think it’s wise to get offside with a long-time ally and friendly nation, and possibly jeopardise New Zealanders’ free access to Australia, Justinda?
Justinda: Grunt, how many times do I have to tell you, the word is jepradise? You’re a very slow learner Grunt. And the country is Our-tear-roar Grunt. Get used to it. Well, this is part of my strategic plan; you must see that. When our policies start to bite the people on the rump, and they realise that the country is broke and starting to resemble Cuba or Venezuela, what will they do?
Grunt: Well, I suppose that a lot of them will hop on a plane and esc… rather, go, to Australia.
Justinda: Heh heh, no they won’t Grunt. I’m expecting that by then Artearoans will have their access restricted. I’m expecting that it’ll be impossible for any Artearoarns to go to Australia. They will be persons non grated by then, and will have to stay here, and continue to enjoy the kindness and wellbeing that I will continue to provide for them.
Grunt: I think you mean persona non grata, the plural of which is personae non gratae, Justinda.
Justinda: You’re such a pendunt, Grunt.
Grunt: Well, the word is actually pedant, but… Yes well, maybe Australia may get a bit annoyed and deport more of our criminals back here, do you think?
Justinda: One thing at a time Grunt, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. Now that I’ve got everyone saying what a great leader I am for standing up to the Australians, I’ll just ease off a bit and then pick up some more votes at the 15th of March Commemorations. I’m practising my hugging techniques and holding my breath while I do it, in case anyone has that Kimonovirus thingy.
Grunt: It’s actually… well, never mind. I did hear that some of the affected families are not really wanting to commemorate the event, Justinda. Apparently their culture isn’t big on annual rehashing of tragedies.
Justinda, (accompanied by a noticeable stamping of a foot): Well I am, Grunt, and I don’t care what anyone says. I’ve been waiting the last year for this, and I won’t be denied my opportunidy. I need to hug some people again Grunt. I don’t want my hugging muscles to get soft and flabby, [with a meaningful glance at Grunt’s physique] like some people around here. There will be photographers and journalists there, Grunt, and I need to be there for them. I have a new scarf too, that I’m itching to wear; it’s such a lovely shade of black. I’m also thinking about hugging some Kimonovirus sufferers. But sick people aren’t nice to be near if you know what I mean. Do you think that hugging their families will be enough?
Grunt: I’m just wondering if it’s wise to do too much hugging, Justinda. Voters may just start to think that there’s a smidgeon of opportunism and insincerity if you overdo it.
Justinda: Nonsense Grunt, it’s an election year for goodness sake! I need to hug like I’ve never hugged before. I was born to hug, Grunt, it’s me! I’m a born hugger, and hug I must, and hug I will. If my arms were longer I’d even practice on you. And by the way, do you think that it would be a good idea to say that I can see this Kimonovirus? I bet Greta hasn’t thought of that yet, and I think it would make her really mad if I said that.
Grunt: No Justinda, just no.
Justinda: (grudgingly): Well ok, but it would be good to get one over that Greta…
Unfortunately, at this point, the spyfly’s connection to the remote control went haywire and caused it to launch itself from the wall and fly noisily around the room until it crashed into a large plate of sausage rolls on Grunt’s desk. With a string of fearful imprecations, Grunt threw the sausage roll with the embedded spyfly into his waste basket, and at that point, the transmission ceased. Your intrepid eyewitness also imprecated lustily and then set off home to work on a better remote control.
If you enjoyed this BFD article please consider sharing it with your friends.
