COUP D’ETAT PLANNED
I crested the last hill before home on the VFR and saw the police cars parked outside. They often put a Random Breath Testing station there. It is damnably inconvenient.
I turned left to go around the block, but there was a police car there too. They signalled me to stop, and I took off my helmet, and they asked me if I had had any alcohol to drink today, and I said no, and they put a machine near my mouth and asked me to count to ten and I did, and I put my helmet on and rode around the block to home.
“Random Breath Testing is a damnable invasion of civil liberties,” I said at the dinner table that night. “No-one would accept that it is okay to stop citizens at random and go through their pockets under a Random Pickpocket Testing scheme, or take samples from their underwear under a Random Rapist Testing scheme, but somehow Random Breath Testing is accepted as being okay. When I am dictator it will be illegal for the police to stop anyone unless they have reasonable grounds to suspect they have committed a crime.”
The girl-child looked troubled. The wife rolled her eyes.
I went to lunch with a few of the guys from work the next day. One was complaining about the Safe Schools Coalition. For those readers not in Australia, this is a bunch of Marxists trying to change the school curriculum to get eleven year olds to talk to their teachers about their genitals on the grounds that 15.7% of the kids are lesbians or transsexuals or something. It would be called “grooming” if anyone else did it.
“When I am dictator”, I said, “I will fire the lot of them and put their names on the sex offender’s register.”
“Thanks Al”, he said. “That makes me feel better.”
“Bloody Marxists”, I said. “You do know that they are named after the unfunny one?”
“Zeppo?”
“Correct.”
I missed the lights at the downhill right turn on the way home. The car in front of me deferred at length to two bicyclists struggling up the hill towards us. A law has been recently passed making it illegal to go within a metre of them, and it has made a lot of people very wary.
“When I am dictator,” I announced at the dinner table, “it will be legal for all licenced shooters to hunt bicyclists.”
The girl-child was appalled. “That’s terrible, Dad”, she said. “That’s murder.”
“No, no, no”, I said. “You have me all wrong. Only with tranquilliser guns, of course. I’m not a MONSTER.”
About the Author
Al Al does a bit of everything, and likes hanging around with Boris, because there are generally motorcycles and whiskey, and because hilarity generally ensues. He wastes his spare time not moderating the BIKE ME! forums, where he posts occasionally and is regarded as unfair, unbalanced and unmedicated. Shows how much THEY know.
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