On the eve of allegedly coming out of the deepest recession ever in this country I thought it fitting to mark the moment with an insight into the mind of Gordon Brown or as noted below AKA Captain.
With respect and gratitude to the late, great Douglas Adams.
MANAGEMENT CONSULTANT:
Um listen, if we could, er, for a moment move on to the subject of fiscal policy –
FORD:
”Fiscal Policy”?!
MANAGEMENT CONSULTANT:
Yes.
FORD:
How can you have money if none of you actually produce anything? It doesn’t grow on trees you know!
MANAGEMENT CONSULTANT:
You know If you would allow me to continue!
CAPTAIN:
Yes let him to continue.
MANAGEMENT CONSULTANT:
Since we decided a few weeks ago to adopt leaves as legal tender, we have, of course all become immensely rich.
FORD:
No really? Really?
CROWD MEMBERS:
Yes, very good move…
MANAGEMENT CONSULTANT:
But, we have also run into a small inflation problem on account of the high level of leaf availability. Which means that I gather the current going rate has something like three major deciduous forests buying one ship’s peanut. So, um, in order to obviate this problem and effectively revalue the leaf, we are about to embark on an extensive defoliation campaign, and um, burn down all the forests. I think that’s a sensible move don’t you?
MARKETING GIRL:
That makes economic sense.
[Murmurs of agreement from crowd]
FORD:
[Yells] You’re absolutely barmy! You’ve a bunch of raving nutters!
MARKETING GIRL:
Well is it – perhaps – in order to inquire what you have been doing all this time, huh?
CROWD MEMBERS:
Yes!
MARKETING GIRL:
Yes, you and that other interloper have been missing for months.
FORD:
Well, with respect love, we have been travelling around trying to find out about this planet.
MARKETING GIRL:
Well, that doesn’t sound very productive. I mean I’ve looked –
FORD:
Well I have got news, I have got news for you. It doesn’t matter a pair feted dingo’s kidneys what you all choose to do from now on. Burn down the forests, anything. It won’t make a scrap of difference. Two-million years you’ve got, and that’s it. At the end of that, your race will be dead, gone, and good-riddance to you. Remember that. Two. Million. Years.
CAPTAIN:
Ah. It’s time for another bath. Hmph. Pass me the sponge somebody will you?