Friday, 15 June 2012
A Little Lunchtime Legend
Once upon a time, long ago and far away in the desolate wastes of Caledonia lived a little girl. By all accounts she was an ordinary child, albeit gifted with an ability to write above and beyond her tender years. She attended the local village school, where she - like all the other small children - was taught project management and Fluffy Equality and Diversity Studies. Mathematics and literacy were additional options for those who were inclined to develop their potential academic abilities.
One recurring problem that this lass encountered was the paucity of rations she was served for her lunch - both in terms of their quantity and their quality. These were served by the school's Faculty for Culinary Studies, whose culinary and educational services were under the supervision and patronage of the local Witangemot. Having eaten her meagre allotted portions, she would return to the classroom hungry and unable to concentrate on her lessons.
Coming from a close and supportive family, the little girl told her parents about this problem, and her father wisely suggested that she draw a pictorial diary and write a summary of her lunch each day. This would then assist her in developing her artistic and literary skills. She therefore enthusiastically threw herself into this new project.
Before very long, her daily journal became widely read as readers throughout the world discovered her prowess with words, and came with horror to realise the difficulties the prandial arrangement created each day for the child and her school-friends. As the popularity of her articles burgeoned, the Commissariat of the local Witangemot became worried at the unwelcome publicity and attention that the girl's articles were accumulating; these daily journals would reveal them to be purveyors of inferior services, which would lead her readers to the conclusion that they were third-rate cheapskates. Something Must Be Done.
After a gathering of thirty thousand overfed and overpaid local government officials had convened over several banquets (at taxpayers' expense, naturally) to discuss this shocking development, they made a Policy Decision and implemented it immediately.
The little girl was instructed that she must not pictorially portray her lunch. Ever. Under pain of the Fluffy Diversity Machine Of Death.
Another astounding triumph for common sense, then...