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Satire
No doubt surprisingly to some, your intrepid eyewitness has more strings to his bow than lurking in Parliamentary broom cupboards listening, via his spy fly device, to dangerous idiots plotting our enslavement.
One of these strings involves identifying and producing formulae for edible substances made from our soon to be only source of food, namely, pine trees.
It was to provide a presentation to assembled scientists that I was summoned to Ardeau’s Utopic Chinese Kontrolled Living A Nazi Dream, also known as Auckland. Deep in the heart of Ardeau’s electorate, lies a large edifice that used to be called Plant and Food Research, and is now known as NOFNAG, which is short for No Food and No Agriculture. Their brief is to feed the soon-to-be-named Democratic People’s Republic of OurTearRoar from the only crop that our UN masters will permit to be grown in this fertile land, and that, of course, is pine trees.
I had developed a promising energy bar made from pine bark, and also a not excessively nutritious soup made from pine needles, which tasted almost good enough to eat. Likewise, I was close to perfecting an Earl Grey pine needle tea which was bordering on drinkable. I had also been researching the production of sustainable energy derived from the immolation of pine cones, which also had some possibilities, but only, (due to transportation problems), if the cones were actually burnt in situ on the trees. This, like the Chinese virus, was a tricky problem and needed further research.
I decided to drive to Auckland, being averse to flying, and like every good citizen of an Eco Fascistic Totalitarian Marxist State, applied for, and received, my travel papers which were to be my entrance ticket to Justinda’s paradise. All went well until I, on the outskirts of the city, found myself in a long queue of vehicles. Eventually, I reached the front of the line, and two Kindness and Wellbeing policemen approached my car.
To my annoyance, I recognised the pair as officers Hagar and Rawsprat, with whom I had had unpleasant encounters in the past. I was irked to find them here and not pushing their electric police car to a charging station hundreds of kilometres away, as they would be if the world wasn’t in such a mess.
“Well, look here, Officer Hagar,” said Officer Rawsprat on recognising me, “if it isn’t Mr Thoughtful Enemy of the State.”
Officer Hagar peered in the window also, looking as weaselly as a Mozambiquan deep-throated ferrety stoat weasel. “Aha, so it is,” he responded, “it’s Mr Thoughtful Hate-Skulker in person.”
“What are you two doing here?” was all I could think of to say in my state of surprise.
“Ve are ze vuns to ask ze qvestions,” snapped Rawsprat viciously. “Vere are your papers?”
I produced my official travel papers and Rawsprat examined them closely. “Do you have verboten items with you?” he growled. “Like bees or beehives? Bees will not be required in the new Republic of OurTearRoar, and it will be a serious crime to be in possession of them.”
“I have my grandchild’s Buzzy Bee toy somewhere in the back,” I said in an attempt at levity. “She left it last time she was in the car. But no real bees. Or wasps.”
“Wasps are permitted,” said Rawsprat. “They symbolise the republic’s new law enforcement philosophy. Annoy us, and you get stung. The wasp may well be on the logo of the Kindness and Wellbeing police in the near future. But it’s more likely to be Japanese giant hornets, which I understand are to be imported into OurTearRoar as a substitute for bees. While people are trying to avoid being stung to death by giant hornets, they’re less likely to commit crimes against the state. ”
Officer Hagar stuck his nose a bit further in the window. “I think we’d better take that Buzzy Bee,” he said with his trademark smirk. “Polluting children’s minds with symbols of the old decadent western civilisation is a serious crime. We wouldn’t want your grandchild to know that bees ever existed. And by the way, how old is your grandchild?”
“Almost five,” I responded.
“Is her name Fatima by any chance?” queried Hagar. “It’s a good name. I think it might be compulsory to call the first girl in every family Fatima, very soon. The Buzzy Bee, hand it over now.”
I complied with this order reluctantly after admitting that my granddaughter was not lucky enough to have been named in the manner obviously beloved of Officer Hagar. Rawsprat examined the papers again suspiciously, and then held them up to where the sun would have been if we’d been further away from Auckland.
“Aha,” he exclaimed. “There’s no unicorn watermark on these papers. Forgeries!”
“As you can see,” I protested, “the papers are signed by the proper authorities, and have the correct six stamps, and the receipt for the cost of the travel permit is attached.”
“Hmmm,” said Officer Hagar, “only $400 paid for the permit? That’s the special rate for scientific advisers as per schedule 15b, Paragraph 98c, Clause 52.viii.”
I apprised him of the fact that I was, indeed a scientific adviser as per the cited schedule, paragraph and clause.
I could see that this nit-picking was going to continue indefinitely, and decided to bring the inspection to a conclusion. “I think I should mention to you that I still have the recording of your insults to her comradeship from your previous visit,” I said. “I have refrained from sending it to her, but if you don’t let me through pdq, I will do so.”
There was an instant paling of the two gargoylish faces, and they withdrew from my window quickly.
“I’d forgotten about that Hagar,” growled Rawsprat, “why didn’t you remind me?”
“Buzzy Bee please,” I said, and receiving it ungraciously plonked back in my hand, I proceeded on my way, leaving the two officers standing, looking very resentful. OurTearRoar can relax, pine needle soup could be on the menu soon.
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