I think we just leave everything the way it is. If I start messing with the text now, I'll wreck it.
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Yes, Minister - The Crux of the Matter
- Thread starter Jollyrei
- Start date
I think we just leave everything the way it is. If I start messing with the text now, I'll wreck it.
I removed Alice. Poor @bobinder !
Well, I started laughing as soon as I saw the words 'Wragg, Minister of Culture' and carried on from there! 
But, set aside the hilarity. Look at it from the minister's viewpoint. The poor chap looked out of the wimdow expecting to see Llamas and instead was confronted by Eulalia's silken breasts and pink nipples. You can't blame the minister for getting a bit rattled, can you? And why, oh why are the Scots always so ungrafeful for everything the Minister does for them?
But, set aside the hilarity. Look at it from the minister's viewpoint. The poor chap looked out of the wimdow expecting to see Llamas and instead was confronted by Eulalia's silken breasts and pink nipples. You can't blame the minister for getting a bit rattled, can you? And why, oh why are the Scots always so ungrafeful for everything the Minister does for them?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Truth and realism! I figure, similar discussions (concern bondage, and prohibitive regulations about the topic) have already taken place in real ministrial offices in more than one country.
Well, I started laughing as soon as I saw the words 'Wragg, Minister of Culture' and carried on from there!
But, set aside the hilarity. Look at it from the minister's viewpoint. The poor chap looked out of the wimdow expecting to see Llamas and instead was confronted by Eulalia's silken breasts and pink nipples. You can't blame the minister for getting a bit rattled, can you? And why, oh why are the Scots always so ungrafeful for everything the Minister does for them?
Well, personally I think your move against cathedrals and public crucifixion was a very brave one, Minister.
Nice work, Jolly, nice to see you back in the writing saddle
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
“One could indeed argue that would be a most courageous decision, Minister…”
Perhaps Minister Wragg can bring in Professor Barbara Moore to conference with the Scots and in the interest of cultural diversity they give Barb a turn on their cross?
This is a great read, @Jollyrei
How kind of you both to say how courageous I am.
Wragg the Lionheart.
Professor Moore will certainly be brought into the story. Wait for it...
I suppose it might emerge that, many years ago, a junior civil servant new to the job and working under pressure overlooked the need to incorporate legislation governing public crucifixions into Scottish Law, as well as the Law in England, Wales and NI. Consequently, unregulated crucifixions have continued in Scotland without any requirement for permits, losing the Government many millions in lost registration fees. Now who might that junior civil servant have been? What senior role might he be occupying now ... ?
Phase 3:
“So, what’s this I hear,” asked Sir Oldrick “Old” Slave, Permanent Secretary to the Privy Council, “about your Minister cutting funding to cathedrals?” He and Sir Jollyrei were sitting in large leather armchairs in the lounge of their London club, sipping sherry.
“Nothing serious. Just a flash in the pan, Old Slave,” said Sir Jolly. The two men had gone to school together and were on familiar terms. “Cathedrals apparently have all kinds of funding options, and the Minister is simply reducing the government stipend to Cathedrals that don’t actually have a congregation to serve. Those that do put bums on seats will continue to get the funding.”
“That’s all very well, hypothetically, Jolly old boy,” said Old Slave, “but it seems that there are not very many of these rather large cathedrals dotted all over Britain, who actually get that many people through the door on a Sunday.”
“That would exclude the Catholics,” said Jolly. “They always seem to get their parishioners to show up.”
“They are a devout bunch,” said Old Slave. “Remember that Catholic girl’s school near the college when we were at school?”
“Hmmmm, yes,” said Sir Jolly. “I can picture it, and some of its more prominent students, but I can’t remember the name of the school.”
“I’m sure it had a name,” said Old Slave thoughtfully, “but I recall we generally just referred to it as the virgin megastore.”
“Yes, well, the Minister is adamant that cost savings are what the public wants. He’s got information that a lot of people would rather go see football on a Sunday rather than Evensong, and sees no reason to fund something that nobody uses.”
“Nobody uses?” asked Old Slave, aghast. “They are cultural and architectural landmarks. Tourism depends on them. The Bishop of St. Alban’s, for one, and I daresay Canterbury as well, won’t take this sitting down. They’ll make noise that the Prime Minister won’t like.”
“Yes, but the Minister has tied this cathedral thing to the reform of cultural and heritage funding generally. He’s also asked the department to stop issuing permits for some sorts of cultural expression in public areas.”
“What sort of cultural expression?” asked Old Slave.
“Crucifixions of naked young girls in parks,” said Sir Jolly.
“Culture is a very odd thing,” said Old Slave. “Very hard to regulate.”
“Indeed,” said Sir Jolly, “but the problem is that he is adamant that this is outdated and abusive to women.”
“Yes, I see,” said Old Slave. “Unfortunately women vote nowadays. Much easier in the old days.”
“Quite,” said Sir Jolly, “and now he’s connected this with the rationalization of cultural funding, he can’t reinstate the cathedral funding without reinstating the crucifixion permits. You can’t promote culture on the one hand and take funding away on the other.”
“Well, it’s what government has been doing for centuries, so I’m not sure I quite see his problem,” said Old Slave.
“If he reinstates the funding for Cathedrals, there will be all sorts of cries of discrimination from the bondage people that they are being unfairly suppressed. If the permits for the crucifixions and bondage parties outdoors are put back, there are university activist elements that will smear this all over the papers – Minister supports crucifying young girls, etc.”
“Yes,” said Old Slave. “I see your dilemma. Tell me, isn’t your Minister’s uncle in the House of Lords?”
“I believe so,” said Sir Jolly. “Lord Randolph Wragg. He’s about 87. I believe that the Minister is in line for the peerage, when it “comes up”.”
“I thought so,” said Old Slave. “Well, the family seat, as you know, is in Cruxtonshire, and I think you might want to look into the local customs there, including annual fairs and festivals.”
“Something we can use to sort this out?” asked Sir Jolly.
“I would hope so,” said Old Slave. “We can’t have all the cathedrals in Britain crumbling into rubble and all the Bishops calling for our heads in the Lords.”
“I’ll see what I can advise my Minister then,” said Sir Jolly.
“Good man,” said Old Slave drily. “I’ve enjoyed our little chat.” He finished his drink.
* * *
“Have you seen this, Jolly?!” asked Wragg. “The Archbishop of Canterbury is claiming that I’m waging a cultural persecution against the true religion and traditions of England.”
“I suppose the Romans might have wished that all they had to do was cut funding to the Christians, rather than throwing them to the lions,” said Sir Jolly. “Persecution was so much harder in those days.”
“I don’t need humour,” said Wragg, “I need a solution. We’re not even cutting all of their funding, only the funding for those buildings that don’t have viable congregations. I mean, how many cathedrals would actually even be threatened.”
“Bob has those figures now,” said Sir Jolly. “We asked the department for some statistics.”
“Yes, Minister,” said Bob, “and I should mention that these are preliminary statistics, and subject to some minor changes, but it would seem that the number of cathedrals whose existence would be threatened by the government cuts would be, roughly speaking, er, all of them.”
“All of them?” asked Wragg.
“So it would seem, Minister,” said Bob.
“They’re going to crucify me,” said Wragg.
“I hardly think so, Minister,” said Jolly.
“You’re not a naked girl in a park, for one,” said Bob, “and we’ve stopped issuing permits.”
“Thank you Bob,” said Jolly.
“How did this happen?” asked Wragg.
“The cathedral funding dilemma or the apparent act of persecution against the established church of the realm, of which Her Majesty is the head?” asked Jolly.
“Good Lord!” said Wragg. “I’ll be sacked! Called onto the carpet at the Palace!”
“I think you wouldn’t be called onto the carpet while wearing the sack, Minister,” said Bob.
“No indeed,” murmured Sir Jolly. “There are Palace protocols…”
“What am I to do?!” asked Wragg.
“The thing is, Minister,” said Jolly, “that it is often the case in government that one must inevitably weigh the consequences of one action against the results and impacts of those actions in a multitude of seemingly unrelated and indeed disconnected areas, such that the act of making policy and taking decisions becomes fraught with a kind of Gordian undertone and one begins to wonder whether any action one takes is truly advisable over the less courageous, but certainly less perilous course of maintaining the status quo, such as it is, such that the goal of government becomes maintaining stability.”
“What was that?” asked Wragg.
“I only meant to say…” said Jolly.
“Yes, well, perhaps later. We need to think clearly at the moment,” said Wragg. “I can’t just reinstate the funding. If I do, I’ll have to also reinstate all those strange cultural permits to crucify girls in parks.”
“That could be done quite quietly,” said Bob.
“Yes, but then I’d have this Professor Barbara Moore person all over the papers complaining that the government was in favour of whipping and crucifying women. I’d be a laughingstock.”
“Yes,” said Sir Jolly, “a bit tricky. But in that context, Minister, I really think you ought to take a look at this.” He handed the Minister a dossier with the words “Cruxton Abbey” printed on the label.
“What’s this?” asked Wragg. “Cruxton Abbey? That’s Uncle Randolph’s place.”
“Yes,” said Jolly. “If you just might want to look at page 4 in the third document there.”
“…range of summer festivals…popular shire fair…whole family…” murmured the Minister, reading the document. “…annual Cruxton charity slave market and crucifixions! My God! Uncle Randolph is doing this.”
“Yes,” said Sir Jolly.”
“Or rather, no,” said Bob. “Not any more. We have, after all, stopped issuing permits.”
“But it says here,” said Wragg, “that the crucifixion of young parish women is considered one of the highlights of the shire fair each year, and accounts for 20% of the annual revenue of the Abbey and stimulates over 2 million pounds for charity each year.”
“Well, I suppose Lord Wragg will simply have to find a new way to make up the funding shortfall,” said Sir Jolly. “It’s not like you’re cutting his funding, after all.”
“Uncle Randolph is going to go ballistic,” said Wragg unhappily.
“Aren’t you the heir to Lord Wragg?” asked Bob.
“Yes,” said Wragg. “Uncle Randolph is about 87 now, I think. Anyway, if I have destroyed his little fair, I probably won’t be the heir for long. It’ll go to my cousin, Ronnie.”
“I believe your uncle is also close friends with the Bishop of St. Alban’s,” said Sir Jolly.
“Yes, they went to school together,” said Wragg, “and I’ve just announced the intent to cut funding to the cathedral. This is appalling.”
"Well, Minister," said Jolly, "I did warn you about possible repercussions, but you insisted on being courageous."
"You never said it was courageous earlier," said Wragg in alarm.
"I'm sure I implied it," said Jolly. "Anyway, I do agree that the current situation is somewhat..."
"...appalling?" suggested Bob.
"What's your take on this, Bob?" asked Wragg.
"I think it's appalling, Minister," said Bob.
"We have to do something!" said Wragg. "It's appalling!"
“What would you like us to do, Minister,” asked Bob.
“Can we perhaps review the whole idea of funding cuts to cathedrals. There must be another way to achieve cost savings.”
“Yes,” said Sir Jolly. “Let’s not take premature decisions. I think it would be best to institute a full cost and savings assessment across the department and our programs.”
“But if we do that,” asked Bob, “what about the other support for culture items, like the permits for crucifixions.”
“We could,” said Jolly, “just quietly reinstate those as well. No big fuss. Just business as usual.”
“But then this Professor Moore…” said Wragg.
“I think I may have an idea about that,” said Jolly.
“What sort of idea?” asked Wragg.
“I think we should invite Professor Moore to observe the Cruxton Abbey festival,” said Jolly.
“How will that help?” asked Bob.
“Yes, Jolly,” said Wragg, “we want her out of the way, not taking notes for her next article nailing me to the wall.
“You don’t technically nail people to walls with articles,” said Bob.
“The pen is mightier than the hammer in this case,” said Wragg.
“As you say, Minister,” said Jolly. “Anyway, leave this to me.”
to be continued...
“So, what’s this I hear,” asked Sir Oldrick “Old” Slave, Permanent Secretary to the Privy Council, “about your Minister cutting funding to cathedrals?” He and Sir Jollyrei were sitting in large leather armchairs in the lounge of their London club, sipping sherry.
“Nothing serious. Just a flash in the pan, Old Slave,” said Sir Jolly. The two men had gone to school together and were on familiar terms. “Cathedrals apparently have all kinds of funding options, and the Minister is simply reducing the government stipend to Cathedrals that don’t actually have a congregation to serve. Those that do put bums on seats will continue to get the funding.”
“That’s all very well, hypothetically, Jolly old boy,” said Old Slave, “but it seems that there are not very many of these rather large cathedrals dotted all over Britain, who actually get that many people through the door on a Sunday.”
“That would exclude the Catholics,” said Jolly. “They always seem to get their parishioners to show up.”
“They are a devout bunch,” said Old Slave. “Remember that Catholic girl’s school near the college when we were at school?”
“Hmmmm, yes,” said Sir Jolly. “I can picture it, and some of its more prominent students, but I can’t remember the name of the school.”
“I’m sure it had a name,” said Old Slave thoughtfully, “but I recall we generally just referred to it as the virgin megastore.”
“Yes, well, the Minister is adamant that cost savings are what the public wants. He’s got information that a lot of people would rather go see football on a Sunday rather than Evensong, and sees no reason to fund something that nobody uses.”
“Nobody uses?” asked Old Slave, aghast. “They are cultural and architectural landmarks. Tourism depends on them. The Bishop of St. Alban’s, for one, and I daresay Canterbury as well, won’t take this sitting down. They’ll make noise that the Prime Minister won’t like.”
“Yes, but the Minister has tied this cathedral thing to the reform of cultural and heritage funding generally. He’s also asked the department to stop issuing permits for some sorts of cultural expression in public areas.”
“What sort of cultural expression?” asked Old Slave.
“Crucifixions of naked young girls in parks,” said Sir Jolly.
“Culture is a very odd thing,” said Old Slave. “Very hard to regulate.”
“Indeed,” said Sir Jolly, “but the problem is that he is adamant that this is outdated and abusive to women.”
“Yes, I see,” said Old Slave. “Unfortunately women vote nowadays. Much easier in the old days.”
“Quite,” said Sir Jolly, “and now he’s connected this with the rationalization of cultural funding, he can’t reinstate the cathedral funding without reinstating the crucifixion permits. You can’t promote culture on the one hand and take funding away on the other.”
“Well, it’s what government has been doing for centuries, so I’m not sure I quite see his problem,” said Old Slave.
“If he reinstates the funding for Cathedrals, there will be all sorts of cries of discrimination from the bondage people that they are being unfairly suppressed. If the permits for the crucifixions and bondage parties outdoors are put back, there are university activist elements that will smear this all over the papers – Minister supports crucifying young girls, etc.”
“Yes,” said Old Slave. “I see your dilemma. Tell me, isn’t your Minister’s uncle in the House of Lords?”
“I believe so,” said Sir Jolly. “Lord Randolph Wragg. He’s about 87. I believe that the Minister is in line for the peerage, when it “comes up”.”
“I thought so,” said Old Slave. “Well, the family seat, as you know, is in Cruxtonshire, and I think you might want to look into the local customs there, including annual fairs and festivals.”
“Something we can use to sort this out?” asked Sir Jolly.
“I would hope so,” said Old Slave. “We can’t have all the cathedrals in Britain crumbling into rubble and all the Bishops calling for our heads in the Lords.”
“I’ll see what I can advise my Minister then,” said Sir Jolly.
“Good man,” said Old Slave drily. “I’ve enjoyed our little chat.” He finished his drink.
* * *
“Have you seen this, Jolly?!” asked Wragg. “The Archbishop of Canterbury is claiming that I’m waging a cultural persecution against the true religion and traditions of England.”
“I suppose the Romans might have wished that all they had to do was cut funding to the Christians, rather than throwing them to the lions,” said Sir Jolly. “Persecution was so much harder in those days.”
“I don’t need humour,” said Wragg, “I need a solution. We’re not even cutting all of their funding, only the funding for those buildings that don’t have viable congregations. I mean, how many cathedrals would actually even be threatened.”
“Bob has those figures now,” said Sir Jolly. “We asked the department for some statistics.”
“Yes, Minister,” said Bob, “and I should mention that these are preliminary statistics, and subject to some minor changes, but it would seem that the number of cathedrals whose existence would be threatened by the government cuts would be, roughly speaking, er, all of them.”
“All of them?” asked Wragg.
“So it would seem, Minister,” said Bob.
“They’re going to crucify me,” said Wragg.
“I hardly think so, Minister,” said Jolly.
“You’re not a naked girl in a park, for one,” said Bob, “and we’ve stopped issuing permits.”
“Thank you Bob,” said Jolly.
“How did this happen?” asked Wragg.
“The cathedral funding dilemma or the apparent act of persecution against the established church of the realm, of which Her Majesty is the head?” asked Jolly.
“Good Lord!” said Wragg. “I’ll be sacked! Called onto the carpet at the Palace!”
“I think you wouldn’t be called onto the carpet while wearing the sack, Minister,” said Bob.
“No indeed,” murmured Sir Jolly. “There are Palace protocols…”
“What am I to do?!” asked Wragg.
“The thing is, Minister,” said Jolly, “that it is often the case in government that one must inevitably weigh the consequences of one action against the results and impacts of those actions in a multitude of seemingly unrelated and indeed disconnected areas, such that the act of making policy and taking decisions becomes fraught with a kind of Gordian undertone and one begins to wonder whether any action one takes is truly advisable over the less courageous, but certainly less perilous course of maintaining the status quo, such as it is, such that the goal of government becomes maintaining stability.”
“What was that?” asked Wragg.
“I only meant to say…” said Jolly.
“Yes, well, perhaps later. We need to think clearly at the moment,” said Wragg. “I can’t just reinstate the funding. If I do, I’ll have to also reinstate all those strange cultural permits to crucify girls in parks.”
“That could be done quite quietly,” said Bob.
“Yes, but then I’d have this Professor Barbara Moore person all over the papers complaining that the government was in favour of whipping and crucifying women. I’d be a laughingstock.”
“Yes,” said Sir Jolly, “a bit tricky. But in that context, Minister, I really think you ought to take a look at this.” He handed the Minister a dossier with the words “Cruxton Abbey” printed on the label.
“What’s this?” asked Wragg. “Cruxton Abbey? That’s Uncle Randolph’s place.”
“Yes,” said Jolly. “If you just might want to look at page 4 in the third document there.”
“…range of summer festivals…popular shire fair…whole family…” murmured the Minister, reading the document. “…annual Cruxton charity slave market and crucifixions! My God! Uncle Randolph is doing this.”
“Yes,” said Sir Jolly.”
“Or rather, no,” said Bob. “Not any more. We have, after all, stopped issuing permits.”
“But it says here,” said Wragg, “that the crucifixion of young parish women is considered one of the highlights of the shire fair each year, and accounts for 20% of the annual revenue of the Abbey and stimulates over 2 million pounds for charity each year.”
“Well, I suppose Lord Wragg will simply have to find a new way to make up the funding shortfall,” said Sir Jolly. “It’s not like you’re cutting his funding, after all.”
“Uncle Randolph is going to go ballistic,” said Wragg unhappily.
“Aren’t you the heir to Lord Wragg?” asked Bob.
“Yes,” said Wragg. “Uncle Randolph is about 87 now, I think. Anyway, if I have destroyed his little fair, I probably won’t be the heir for long. It’ll go to my cousin, Ronnie.”
“I believe your uncle is also close friends with the Bishop of St. Alban’s,” said Sir Jolly.
“Yes, they went to school together,” said Wragg, “and I’ve just announced the intent to cut funding to the cathedral. This is appalling.”
"Well, Minister," said Jolly, "I did warn you about possible repercussions, but you insisted on being courageous."
"You never said it was courageous earlier," said Wragg in alarm.
"I'm sure I implied it," said Jolly. "Anyway, I do agree that the current situation is somewhat..."
"...appalling?" suggested Bob.
"What's your take on this, Bob?" asked Wragg.
"I think it's appalling, Minister," said Bob.
"We have to do something!" said Wragg. "It's appalling!"
“What would you like us to do, Minister,” asked Bob.
“Can we perhaps review the whole idea of funding cuts to cathedrals. There must be another way to achieve cost savings.”
“Yes,” said Sir Jolly. “Let’s not take premature decisions. I think it would be best to institute a full cost and savings assessment across the department and our programs.”
“But if we do that,” asked Bob, “what about the other support for culture items, like the permits for crucifixions.”
“We could,” said Jolly, “just quietly reinstate those as well. No big fuss. Just business as usual.”
“But then this Professor Moore…” said Wragg.
“I think I may have an idea about that,” said Jolly.
“What sort of idea?” asked Wragg.
“I think we should invite Professor Moore to observe the Cruxton Abbey festival,” said Jolly.
“How will that help?” asked Bob.
“Yes, Jolly,” said Wragg, “we want her out of the way, not taking notes for her next article nailing me to the wall.
“You don’t technically nail people to walls with articles,” said Bob.
“The pen is mightier than the hammer in this case,” said Wragg.
“As you say, Minister,” said Jolly. “Anyway, leave this to me.”
to be continued...
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Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Oooooh, that harkens back to one of my favourite episodes!I suppose it might emerge that, many years ago, a junior civil servant new to the job and working under pressure overlooked the need to incorporate legislation governing public crucifixions into Scottish Law, as well as the Law in England, Wales and NI. Consequently, unregulated crucifixions have continued in Scotland without any requirement for permits, losing the Government many millions in lost registration fees. Now who might that junior civil servant have been? What senior role might he be occupying now ... ?
I really should have run this whole thing past you before I wrote it. That's really very good.I suppose it might emerge that, many years ago, a junior civil servant new to the job and working under pressure overlooked the need to incorporate legislation governing public crucifixions into Scottish Law, as well as the Law in England, Wales and NI. Consequently, unregulated crucifixions have continued in Scotland without any requirement for permits, losing the Government many millions in lost registration fees. Now who might that junior civil servant have been? What senior role might he be occupying now ... ?
It is, however, not quite what happens.
Barb at the Cruxton Abbey festival... ?
Hmmmm. Let me consider that. It will certainly cheer up that old sod, Uncle Randolph. If we put Barb and Eul up together, I might cease to be the heir in a happier way! The old bugger will drop dead from sheer pleasure! Then I could be as courageous as I like!
Now now. Let's not give away the ending before I've even posted it.
Uh oh! The key word here is observe. That’s OBSERVE! Got it? Visiting professors do not agree to hang naked on crosses. Must definitely not!
NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!’
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
I’d suggest reading the fine print as to what “observation” actually entails, but why bother?
I really wish you would have said this earlier.
You people are remarkably astute. Is there any story where you don't know the ending before it happens?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Is there any story on CF that does not end with a crucifixion?I really wish you would have said this earlier.
You people are remarkably astute. Is there any story where you don't know the ending before it happens?