Enforcing fairness tough when answerable to great evil

NEWTON'S OPTIC: ‘IT’S BECAUSE you hate fairness!” I cried, unable to ignore the injustice any longer

NEWTON'S OPTIC:'IT'S BECAUSE you hate fairness!" I cried, unable to ignore the injustice any longer. "That's the only explanation. You just hate things that are fair!"

“Calm down Newton,” replied the minister, or ‘Hitler’, as everyone in the fairness sector secretly called him. “I don’t hate fairness. I just want to make a few changes at the Fairness Commission.”

“It’s the same thing!” I protested. “Under the Fairness Act, the Fairness Commission decides what is fair, and as Fairness Commissioner I set the priorities on fairness enforcement.”

“Yes, I’m afraid that’s where we have a problem,” the minister said, not even trying to conceal his anti-fairness agenda. “I’ve had a look through the books and it seems you spent €100 million over the last five years on a campaign to let midgets use roller-coasters.”

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“They have signs up that say ‘You must be this tall’,” I whispered, my voice falling in horror. “I’m aware of the signs,” the minister said.

“It’s unfair,” I explained, “not only to midgets but to women, children and men who smoked when they were children.”

“I’m aware of the arguments as well,” the minister interrupted. “My department funded them all the way to Strasbourg. Nevertheless, this single campaign has consumed almost half the commission’s budget for most of its existence, which seems a little excessive, especially as it’s only ever been about the one roller-coaster.”

“Fascist!” I screamed, scarcely able to believe what I was hearing.

“So I’m afraid I’ll have to cut your budget back accordingly,” he continued, as smooth and deadly as a fairness assassin. “We have more pressing issues to address, and the money could be better spent elsewhere.”

It was clear to me now that I was in the presence of great evil. This minister was not just anti-fairness, but actively pro-unfairness, and the worst was yet to come.

“On the subject of elsewhere,” he went on, “I’d like you to move the commission’s offices to Navan under the decentralisation programme.”

“It’s obvious!” I yelled. “You just want to destroy the Fairness Commission! My specialist fairness staff are all in Dublin. How can they commute to Navan?”

“Lots of people commute between Dublin and Navan,” the minister lied. “At least you’ll be going against the traffic.”

“Never in all the history of jobs has anyone had to relocate and manage a reduced budget,” I declared, not unreasonably.

“Really? Let me check your terms and conditions,” the minister said, pulling out my five-year contract.

“That’s a threat!” I shouted, seeing his ploy. “My contract’s nearly up and you’re trying to frighten me with it.”

“Well, let me just sign you up for another five years then.”

“That’s an outrage!” I squealed, lunging over his desk. “I should have my job forever! Under the Fairness Act, only permanent jobs are fair!”

“Oh for God’s sake,” the minister muttered, finally revealing his naked aggression.

“I’m going to write a book about this and tell the whole world the truth,” I warned.

“Do you think anyone will read it?” the minister asked.

Only an absolute monster could have said something so unfair.