Scotland Before the Bomb

by M. J. Nicholls

  BREAKDOWN OF EXPENSES STILL OWED TO THE WORLD BANK

  Sólveig Hallason Fee £110,000,000

  Cost to uptilt Cromarty (resources, workers fees) £700,000,000,000

  One cocker spaniel crushed under a JCB (compensation) £30,000

  Velcro to coat the roads £900,000

  Emergency Velcro rescue whistles £30,000

  New council offices and observation point £7,000,000

  NASA telescope £32,000,000

  Training pigeons to send messages £70,000

  Missiles to obliterate airships £34,000,000

  Fee to Dominican Dictator Elvérez Mùan £2,000,000

  Crisp packet attack clean-up £4,000,000

  Crisp packet attack fatalities and injuries (compensation) £299,000,000

  Erection of and maintaining of “pop-up” hospitals £3,000,000

  Swan of peace £3,400

  Compensation to evacuated residents £630,000

  Total: £700,492,663,400

  [‘A Report on the Uptilting of Cromarty: The Logistics, Repercussions, & Consequences, By the Right Honourable Prime Minister, Mr. M. Westlake’ in The Book of Lost Places: Accounts & Documents, Phyllis Strang (ed.), Vulpine Press, 2090.]

  “The Potential Country”

  [ARGYLL & BUTE]

  A SERIES OF SCHEMES to shape life in the indecisive nation of Argyll & Bute were implemented over a span of three decades. No scheme was adopted as the accepted modus operandi: instead, the country became known by its persistent, fruitless experimentation. —Ed.

  Children by Committee

  First pioneered in Eastern Slovenia by Minister for Families Cvetko Dančar, the purpose of this scheme was to keep the breeding rates at a more respectable ratio of one child per one hundred people (i.e. fifty couples). One couple, selected from a randomiser, had the honour of providing the sperm, harvesting the foetus, and birthing the child. Passed into the nurse’s hands, the birth couple would relinquish their right as sole mother and father, and enter into a contract with their fellow committee members to be “collective” parents of the child. All aspects of its upbringing would be resolved by votes at committee meetings, from choosing a name, bottle- or breastfeeding, the absorbability of nappies worn, to the choice of nursery, primary school, and so on. Each choice had to reflect the financial means of the collective: children born in poorer neighbourhoods would have to suffer some parents being unable to contribute to college funds, or help with Christmas presents. The child would live with fifty mothers and fathers at approximately 7.3 days per couple per year, among whom he would experience a series of personalities, opinions, dysfunctions, hobbies, passions, and acquire knowledge. When practiced in Argyll & Bute, the children raised in this scheme ended up as schizophrenic polygamous adulterers, seeking love and appraisal from multiple partners, and assuming multiple personalities to cope with the demands of their endless parents. The scheme was scrapped when six-year-old Tim Finn waged fifty lawsuits against his fifty parents and won nine million in compensation.

  Double-Barrelled Obscurantism

  The writer Paul Shishkin in his book Blinkering the Bad practiced self-hypnosis for nine months whenever he was faced with facts or situations that caused him intense mental stress or suffering. He found that when confronted with a news item that made him miserable, or a fact that spoiled his afternoon, he could improve his happiness by 97% by inducing a mental block using keywords planted in his mind under hypnosis. During a recession, the Finance Minister Bill Greeboll proposed this as a solution to Argyll & Bute’s lugubrious air. In tandem with this was an idea from Tamara Volt’s book Die Hard with a Vengeance, showing how the pressure to understand tough intellectual concepts made people sad, and if encouraged to bluff their way through based on their abilities, people were 94% happier. These two forms of obscurantism worked together: a challenging situation presented itself, and citizens had their mental blocking techniques in place to overcome them. Henceforth, Argyll & Bute was ordered to hide its lack of substantive knowledge on various topics, and reorder their discourse into strings of inconclusive, ungraspable verbiage to mask the knowledge of the things that had been blocked out. As a consequence, people walked around oblivious and unresponsive to the tangible suffering around them, and spoke in infuriating intellectual gibberish to maintain a pretence of things being fine. This scheme was scrapped when a sailor, blocking out the fact that his vessel was about to hit a prominent crag, offered his passengers an informational and inaccurate lecture on rock formations and coastal erosions as the boat capsized.

  Ayn Rand with Ocelots

  First posited by Gordon Gano, lead singer of The Violent Femmes, this notion twisted Conservative Russian-American novelist Ayn Rand’s theory of objectivism into a more palatable form. In Rand’s writings, the ultimate purpose of man is to spurt with vim towards an heroic state of priapic self-interest, whereas in Gano’s version, man’s moral purpose is to ensure that all ocelots everywhere are as happy as possible, and to take personal pleasure in ensuring this is the case. Prime Minister Wilmot Popple had several thousand noctural wildcats shipped over from their South American rainforest habitats, and released into Argyll & Bute’s sprawling forelocks. These beautiful spotted cats, with their sleek bodies, regal postures, graceful pounces, and mercurial eyes, made their home in the unspacious peaks and depths. Citizens were then encouraged to incorporate some form of ocelot-loving activity into their daily lives, whether releasing rabbits, opposums, and lizards into their habitats for them to snack on, or helping protect their homes from poachers or other predators like pumas and bobcats. The community felt happy devoting their lives to these creatures, until human life became miserable thanks to the millions sunk into ocelots instead of them. The ocelots began hunting the homeless population, terrorising impoverished people on the streets, and eating the weak. The scheme was scrapped when a girl scout group were ambushed and devoured while bringing the ocelots homemade cookies.

  Masks

  Pessimist philosopher Ivor Leibniz observed that people became bored and frustrated at themselves and the people around them extremely quickly, and posed the solution to have people wear a series of masks showing the faces of less mediocre people instead. As an example, Ivor used Alex Bog. An audio technician in a rap studio who wanted to be Swordfishtrombones-era Tom Waits, Alex Bog bought a Waits mask and wore this to the rapture of his girlfriend, fed up with the sallow sag of his face. Alex asked his girlfriend if she would wear a Mulholland Drive-era Naomi Watts mask, which she sported with pleasure, replacing her previous expression of sour indifference. This scheme was adopted in Argyll & Bute. Parents put masks of less irritating children on their offspring, and wore smiling masks over their own unsmiling faces. People met Mel Gibson in their bakeries; Nana Mouskouri in their surgeries; Linda Perhacs in their offices; Yoko Ono in their cafés; Greg Kinnear in their nightclubs; David Hyde-Pierce at their bus stops; Steve Punt in their airports; Lillian Gish in their haberdashers; Colin Mochrie in their swimming pools; Harvey Keitel in their prisons; Penelope Shuttle in their subways; Catrin-Mai Huw in their sewers. Mischevious kids sported provocative masks, like the one scamp who walked around as Joseph Merrick, or the imp who strutted around as Jean-Bédel Bokassa. The scheme was scrapped when the mask supplier only had Tony and Cherie Blair faces for sale.

  Crime & The City Solution

  It was observed in a sardonic tweet from humorist D.M. Nicols that the volume of crime dramas and novels had vastly overtaken the number of actual crimes being committed. The Ministers for Crime and Entertainment checked the stats and found this to be true. For every new season of a murder serial containing three to five murders, one real-time murder was committed. Other series showing rapes, assaults, thefts, and so on, contained higher volumes of these crimes than their real-time versions. As a cure for crime, it was suggested by ministers that those thinking of breaking the law should apply to work for the production companies making these dramas and turn their actions into profitable ide
as. This worked for several seasons. However, the production companies complained that without actual crimes to inspire their writers, their shows were lacking in original flair, and passed over for awards. The production companies took it upon themselves to pay the criminals to commit real-life atrocities so they could write down what happened when these went awry. It was not an uncommon sight to see writer taking notes while a hoodlum knived an old lady for her pension book. The scheme was scrapped when everyone involved was arrested. A serial about this episode was soon aired.

  The Critical Mirror

  To keep citizens humble, and to prevent egotism ruining the country, a critical mirror was to be installed in every home. The mirror was invented in Hungary by Laszlo Gimmer. A black box containing a computer program with information about each reflectee was built into the back of the custom mirrors, to provide morning criticism on cue. The nature of the criticism was based on the Insignificance Principle, which treats each human life as of little value in itself, and views collective decency as more important to maintaining the species. This meant one morning Morag Filmore awoke to the message: “You are a mediocre trainee programmer for an uncompetitive tech firm.” Paul Virgins: “Your swaggering gait and outgoing air fails to hide the frightened little child you are inside.” Dennis Postula: “That waxed moustache and cropped bob is no compensation for your complete absence of wit.” Simon Ethel: “Up again to sell cars and fail to address your deep childhood trauma.” Eric Staadhoff: “Those vapid brown eyes, like swirling pools of fetid nothing.” Francis Wheem: “You work in accounts. You are 40.” Tyrone Smiddy: “A dusty stinking cravat of a man.” Dobbie Coll: “Your prose lacks the basic competence to command a cursory glance from the most tolerant reader.” Erin Quiz: “A slow trickle of cold yellow sick.” Alison Pettigru: “You are simply a dull woman.” Valerie Wym: “Oh! God! No!” The scheme was scrapped when the suicide rate went up by 175%.

  Scandanavian Shadows

  For decades, commentators had used the countries of Sweden, Norway, and Finland as exemplars of liberal, well-educated societies uncorrupted by big business that treated their citizens in a fair and dignified manner. Since Argyll & Bute had been hitting the skids corruption-wise, with thousands set aside for forest conservation siphoned into ministers’ trousers, and millions set aside for mental health provisions wired to a Swiss bank account, the populace voted that Scandanavians come to the country and shadow everyone, from ministers to trash collectors, and teach them how not to be complete pricks. Colin McGregor, a baker, was shadowed for two months by Kjell Eriksen, who lectured him on not helping himself to cream puffs, charging the same for day-old pastries, or masturbating in the back room. Iain Macquarrie, the finance minister, was shadowed by Linnéa Nyberg, who lectured him on not pocketing the OAP winter heating allowance to build an extention on his seafront cottage so his son Malcolm could move in with his new partner. Alasdair Adair, a single parent of two, was shadowed by Aki Heikkinen, who lectured him on not singing unionist folk songs to his seven-year-old son, thereby implanting a factually incorrect history of the trade union movement into his baby’s ears. Erin Stewart, a reporter, was shadowed by Jørgen Solberg, who lectured her on not arriving too early at crime scenes and interrogating traumatised victims minutes after their ordeals. Arlene Galt, a hairdresser, was shadowed by Tove Ek, who lectured her on not leaving people too long in the dryers, causing acute burns on their scalps, and not trimming her nails to a tolerable length for washing procedures. Callum Brotchie, a GP, was shadowed by Armo Järvinen, who lectured him on not letting off stink bombs under the table to force his chattier patients to leave. Iona Archie, a shepherdess, was shadowed by Aku Hämäläinen, who lectured her on not whipping the sheep with her riding crop when her patience with the flocculent ruminants was tested on windy, rainy afternoons. Jimmy Crae, a hobo, was shadowed by Alfhild Rønning, who lectured him on his poor begging technique and limited repertoire on the zither. Helen Galloway, a senior management accounts executive, was shadowed by Ake Larsson, who lectured her on not talking complete bollocks from the minute she entered the office to the minute she left the office. The scheme was scrapped after the Scandanavians had substantially improved the populace.

  The Sham Castle Initiative

  The market research wing of the Argyll & Bute tourist board noticed that people complained about the dearth of accessible, complete castle ruins. “These historical structures are in fields miles from hotels, and we have to book bus tours or hire cars to see them. All that expense later, and there’s nothing more than a pile of bricks covered in birdshit,” the tourists whinged. So the tourist board invested millions in sham castles—structures built in sandstone, blasted and chiselled to appear time-beaten, with bogus histories presented in the brochures. These castles were within ten minutes of towns and villages, with cafés, restaurants, and soundproofed areas for children to run around in screaming. The first, near Lochgilphead, was called King McCullan VII castle, a residence for the fictitious king in the era of the fictitious skirmish between the Bute Battlers and the Argyll Arsonists. The King was a prolific shortbread manufacturer, and sold his tartan to local clans, modern versions of which were available in the gift shop. In addition to the castles, other popular new historical artifacts included the Crying Stones of Carradale, which leaked water on cue from small “pores”; the Bouncy Bog of Bonawe, with springloaded soil for people to partake of history in a mildly bouncy fashion; the Tattoo Tapestry of Tarbet, a spurious tapestry with tattoo-like inscriptions to appeal to the undertwenties attendee; the Goblin Glen of Gometra, where holograms and projections of goblins periodically flashed on trees and thickets; and the Squirrel Safari of Succoth, where squirrels were fired towards passing cars on the trails, so the passengers inside could make this noise: “Ooowwwooo!” The scheme was not scrapped, even after a brutal exposé in The History Review, as people preferred these to their real counterparts.

  Liquid Imp Removal

  It had been reported (by Al Ubik) that citizens had been periodically walking into the woods at night for hours and hours without rest and collapsing dead. Their exhausted bodies were found frozen in copses the next morning (by Al Obec). These spontaneous strolls into suicidal oblivion caused a huge amount of inconvenience for the local police force, who had not been trained in the sort of forensic work required on fresh corpses, or the grief counselling required to console the families, so a special taskforce was imported from Belgium to root out the cause. Gert Harrf located a semi-transparent liquid imp knuckling around in a forest clearing shooting Gloom Pellets at passing walkers from a peashooter in its maw. The creature, believed to have been hiding inside the underdrawer of a porcelain cabinet, had lapsed into primitive malfeasance, and required a chronometric tilting procedure to bring it in line with modern imps. To perform this, Gert Harrf asked local resident Colin Pamp to hold a parallelogram and think about broccoli. The semi-transparent liquid imp would, at the mention of such a noble vegetable, return to his feet and, with light fructal coaxing, over the course of two weeks, become fully transparent. Once invited to tea with a well-spoken and entertaining family (the Ibixes), the imp would solidify, and return to its usual state of rock-hard visible friendliness. This scheme was adopted across the land and seven hundred liquid imps were saved before standing trial in the criminal courts for their vicious murders.

  Legalising “Drugs”

  Following the blanket ban on narcotics and recreational intoxicants, the PM observed that if people even heard the word “drugs”, their cravings were prone to increase by an incalculable integer. The use of the word “drugs”, in speech or in print, was therefore verboten. This state of affairs continued for twelve years, until the new liberal PM, Shepp Salvop, overturned the policy and legalised the word “drugs” forever. Euphoric citizens celebrated with street parties in which they listed the varieties of drugs that people could take, using the word “drugs” in their sentences, such as “Drugs like fluoxetine, drugs like abecarnil, drugs like kebuz
one, drugs like quifenadine, drugs like necopidem, drugs like iodixanol, drugs like escitalopram, drugs like paroxetine, drugs like gestodene”, and so on. In the shops, cottages, and coracles of the nation, children and teengers and adults and the dying were using the word “drugs” in public and private, and the rise in strong recreational use of the word “drugs” became steep. In the course of four months, hundreds of “drugs” addicts—people who used the word “drugs” in every sentence—were recorded. One man was found in a shop door-way, completely incapable of saying any other word than “drugs”, and taken to an emergency speech therapist immediately before he swallowed his own tongue. The new PM refused to reverse his choice, explaining that although the word “drugs” had invaded the popular lexicon and become a temporary linguistic sensation, and that some unfortunates, caught up in the hysteria of saying the word “drugs”, would need help coping with their newfound freedom, it was more important that people had the freedom to say “drugs”. Help was provided to the hundreds of “drugs” addicts who, in a couple of weeks, were able to reduce their use of the word to three or four hundred instances a week, and exercise a normal and varied vocabulary. The scheme was scrapped when a shipment of cocaine was accidentally leaked into the water supply, and everyone became rabid and desperate for that particular narcotic. The word “drugs” was never uttered on Argyll & Bute again.