The BFD | To Leap or Not to Leap

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Satire

A few mornings ago, while ruminating, contemplating my navel and finding very little inspiration therein, I was jolted back to reality by the alarm call of my Spyfly device. This indicated that someone of interest had entered the inner sanctum of Justinda Ardeau’s office and had activated the sensors.

Upon checking my computer I noted that the Sausage Roll alarm was flashing, and as I watched, Grunt Robbingson, Minister of Sausage Rolls and Te Great Leaping Reset, rolled into the office and planted his ample rear bumper into a seat by Justinda’s desk.

Grunt inclined his head towards an empty bird cage standing close by, and enquired, “What happened to the parrot?”

A few tears rolled down Justinda’s face as she explained, “Last time Auntie Hellish Quark visited me, Fidel was out of his cage and he flew above Auntie Hellish and dropped a substantial consignment of parrot puapua on her, cackling in that endearing Kamala-esque way. Auntie Hellish was angry, leapt up and grabbed poor Fidel on the wing and wrung his neck. I’m still heartbroken, Grunt. That bird was my soul mate.”

Grunt grunted and observed, “Well, I didn’t like him. His eyes were too close together. Anyway, what is the reason for my summons here? I’m a busy man. I have great leaps in all directions to arrange, with an emphasis on backwards.” He produced a sausage roll from his shirt pocket.

At this moment, the alarm beeped again as a racket reminiscent of the meeting of several tonnes of large ball-bearings and corrugated iron sounded. The Hellish Quark alarm light flashed, and into the office strode the Quark herself.

“Sit down!” she barked. “I called this meeting because there are a few things we need to iron out. Firstly,” and she glared malevolently at each in turn, “I gave strict instructions that the ‘Great Leap to Separatism’, also known as ‘Xi Great Puapua Leap to Apa Tide’, was to be kept strictly secret. We would announce it after implementation, not before or during.”

“That’s Angry Spittle’s fault,” whined Justinda. “He had to trumpet about his separate mouldy health system, and Flusher Collins found the document. It’s not my fault.”

“Well, now that the cat is out of the bag, what are we going to do about it?” thundered Hellish. She turned to Grunt. “Well Billy Bunter, do you have any ideas?”

Grunt who had been idly fingering a twelve incher, took a large bite out of it and chewed. “I have a number of distractions planned,” he mumbled through sausage roll crumbs. “I was thinking of implementing a side revolution to keep people’s minds off it. I was going to call it ‘Te Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution’. How does that sound?”

“Been tried before,” said Hellish snappily. “After the failure of the ‘Great Leap Forward’. No, forget that. Anyway, it caused havoc among the elite. I don’t fancy being a member of an OurTearRoar Gang of Four.”

“Failure of The Great Leap Forward?” broke in Justinda. “I never heard it failed. It was Communist. How could it fail?” Her bottom lip was quivering.

“Wasn’t done properly,” snapped Hellish. “Anyway, the proletarian thing comes later in the plan. Schools have to be closed, Red Guards arranged, that sort of thing. The political climate isn’t ripe for that just yet.”

Grunt was looking a little disappointed over the rejection of his suggestion. “We could form a committee,” he said. “Call it something like ‘Te Committee of Public Safety’.”

“Also been done before,” said Hellish angrily. “How would we get hold of sufficient guillotines at short notice anyway?” She glared at Grunt. “You look a bit like Maximilien Robespierre come to think of it. Your head would look better in a basket than where it is now.” She smiled to herself at the thought. “You both know I love a reign of terror as much as the next womxn, but it’s a trifle early for that stage.” She sighed and a cold blast like a stiff southerly swept through the room.

After a few moments of uneasy silence, Auntie Hellish commented. “If I was PM again, I’d appoint you both to cabinet just so I could have the pleasure of firing you.”

“I could announce that soon I will be announcing the name of one of my bridesmaids,” suggested Justinda. “Covid O’Lyin’ will make headlines of that for at least two weeks. Then I could announce…”

“Thou mewling idle-headed flax-wench*,” snarled Auntie Hellish. “These announcements about announcements are getting a bit tedious, even for me – who gave you the idea in the first place.”

“Steady on, Hellish,” said Grunt feebly. “You can’t talk to Justinda like that.”

“Oh can’t I just!” snapped Hellish, her eyes now glowing bright red. “As for you, thou beslubbering knotty-pated codpiece, when are you going to do something useful? I know where I’d like to see you make a great leap.”

There was a brief pause, and then Hellish became conciliatory.

“Well, the ‘Great Leap to Xi Puapua’ must proceed regardless,” she said firmly. “Nothing must stand in its way. We can rely on the media to support us. They know that their funding, present and future, depends on their supporting this Great Leap and all it entails, such as forcing the flock of five million to accept OurTearRoar as the new name for the country, and coercing them into learning Mouldy.”

“Covid hates Flusher,” said Justinda, “she will do her best to take everyone’s minds off what’s happening, with articles about how Flusher is doomed. I’ll see to it. When I was president of the Young Communists…”

“Not that again,” shouted Hellish. “You see to O’Lyin’. The Great Leap must not be jeopardised. I’ll see myself out.”

She gave a great leap out of her seat and gave the door a huge hate-slam on the way out, leaving Grunt and Justinda looking nervously at each other, Justinda muttering, “It’s pronounced jepradised,” and Grunt chewing his sausage roll.

*Thanks to posters on BFD of the Shakespearean Insult Kit. It’s an invaluable tool.