Some readers may recall that your intrepid eyewitness has, on several occasions, crossed metaphorical swords with two police officers, Officers Rawsprat and Hagar, both of whom represent the new woefully woke and unfortunately increasingly prevalent wing of the police farce.
As it had been some time since my last encounter with these miserable specimens, I had almost slipped into a blissful state of forgetting their existence.
As I relaxed one evening in my favourite armchair, for once in a state of lighthearted repose, my peace was shattered as though by an Airbus A380 attempting to enter the front door at takeoff velocity. As I leapt to my feet and headed in the direction of the door to ascertain the cause of this disturbance, the door burst open and tossing aside a police-issue battering ram, two familiar figures stormed into my lounge. On spotting me, they stopped, and oily, weaselly, cunning, sneaky smirks appeared on their faces. Officers Rawsprat and Hagar stood before me.
“Oho, thought we’d forgotten you, didn’t you, Mister Thoughtful Enemy of the State,” said Officer Hagar, looking more like a weasel than an actual weasel. “He’s been in our thoughts quite a bit lately, hasn’t he?” he added, directing his question to Rawsprat.
“Indeed he has,” responded Rawsprat, an evil leer spreading over his shark-like countenance.
“You have no right to break into my house in this manner,” I roared angrily, momentarily at a loss for words.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” replied Rawsprat. “The police now have the right to enter any house at any time. And, as we’re undergoing training at present to be prepared for when the new hate speech laws are enacted, we’re using you for training purposes.”
“But the hate speech laws haven’t even been passed yet,” I protested. “Hate speech hasn’t been defined. And how can you train for a law that doesn’t yet exist?”
“The law exists in the mind of our glorious leader,” said Hagar, his voice cracking with emotion. “Peace be upon her august and sublime personage.” Having replaced his hat, which he had removed while he bowed his head at the mention of his Führer, he continued, “That’s good enough for us. Anyway, the law will be retrospective when it is rushed through parliament under urgency. So it will cover us for tonight.”
“And we will know it when we hear it,” intoned Rawsprat. “And we have her permission to read between the lines. Our almost as glorious little Minister of Justice would also approve of our using you for training.”
They had apparently carried a small electronic device into the house when they had so rudely shattered my peace, and Rawsprat now placed it on my coffee table and smirked at me again.
“Last time we connected you to our apparatus it was a Thoughtmaster Mark 1,” he said. “We have now been issued with the Mark 2, which is much more powerful, and as it is designed by the Dominio-n-Katalyst Corporation, it can be adjusted to give the results we require. So you’re already guilty of Hate Speech, but we need to go through the motions.”
Over my objections, he placed a cap on my head, which had the words ‘Property of Our-Tear-Roar Thought Police’ on the front. This apparently contained sensors which conveyed my thoughts to the contraption which contaminated my coffee table. He then went to the device which he turned on, and both of them intently watched the screen which flickered into life.
“Let us begin,” intoned Hagar, crossing himself in the shape of a horse’s head. “I’m going to say some words, and we will see your thoughts depicted on the screen.” He cleared his throat. “Socialism”, he said loudly, and watched the screen intently.
“Aha, got you!” shouted Rawsprat. “Look at that, Hagar. A long line of very thin people standing outside a bakery. Wait! That man at the door is the baker telling them to go away as there is no flour to bake bread with.”
Hagar chortled. “Implying that Socialism creates hunger. Why there’s hate thought right away. There’s three years inside just for that alone. And don’t say thought isn’t speech. To us thought and speech are one and the same.” He thought for a moment. “Nanaia Te Matooter”, he said clearly.
Rawsprat shouted again. “Look at that! The word Scribblepotamus is very clear, and see that hippopotamus there with a mookau on its chin.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Another three years.”
Hagar held up his hand for silence. “Justinda Ardeau, the Great Leap to Resetting former Leader of the Young Communists and Present Leader for Life of the People’s Republic of China’s Democratic Province of Kowtowaroa-New Xiland,” he said reverently, with a look of adoration on his mustelid face.
“What the trump!” shouted Rawsprat jumping back from the screen in shock.
“Language Spratty!” snapped Hagar.
“The trumping screen’s gone trumping crazy,” shouted Rawsprat. As they watched, there was a succession of pictures on the screen, like a scene from Dante’s Inferno. Cloven-hooved, devil-horned unicorns, hideous-looking demons and other far-left Labour creatures cavorted, with their weaselly, sneering, leering faces dripping evil substances.
Both officers gained their composure, and Rawsprat chortled in glee. “What an insult to Glorious Leader,”, he guffawed. “Twenty years for that, at least.” He glared at me malevolently. “What do you have to say for yourself, Thoughtful Enemy of the State?”
“I was trying to keep my thoughts moderate,” I remarked, “and I succeeded.”
“Quickly, save the results to the memory card,” cried Hagar. As Rawsprat moved to do so, the Thoughtmaster beeped several times and the screen went dark.
“The trumping battery has trumping well gone trumping flat,” shouted Hagar, looking distressed. “We lost all the trumping data.” They both glared at me. “Don’t think you’ve got away with this,” said Rawsprat angrily, “your day will come. It’s just a matter of time.”
They both turned and left the house, their nemesis President Trump being mentioned ceaselessly until their voices faded into the night.
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