The Banned Game

well said President Lanolin
Of all the birds that have visited the Beehive the kiwis have been the hardest to find and spot. Ive had to make a special tunnel for them to enter on the ground floor because they cant just fly in and land on the balcony like all those birds coming from overseas.

Miss Goodbooks also reminded President Lanolin that the census was coming up and had she filled out her form yet. You can do it online.

President Lanolin said she would figure out a better way to count everyone in the country. Counting sheep always made her fall asleep.

The beehive had their census, they counted 2464 bees living in the Beehive, 352 agapanthus flowers and only 3 kiwis.

The chipmunk population still only stood at 6.

What about the humans? Asked Kevin, shouldnt we be included in count? He was busy counting the number of dogs...which in Lanolinland would have been a big fat zero.

I dont think its necessary, said President Lanolin. Miss Goodbooks has enough to do in the library counting all the books.

Besides people move all the time, but you could go to the cemetery and count all the number of people buried in the graveyards. Theyve been there forever.

Miss Goodbooks counted the books in the parliamentary library. She also counted the computers, but books easily out numbered computers.

The bean counters counted the number of vanilla beans needed to flavour the icecream at the Tip Top Anatarctic Factory. In honor of Rachel Hunters hair, they decided they were going to introduce a new flavour icecream that was a 'Green Bean' icecream trumpet.

Dr Chris Warner had forgotten all about Rachel Hunter. What a surprise when he saw her on his Cook Island wedding to Miss Zipmouth (Now Mrs Warner) . The island was small and they would cross paths eventually.

Would he be able to control himself this time? He'd had a reputation for cheating on all his previous ex wives immediately after marrying. This time was it going to be any different?
This time Mrs Warner had a magic wand though. It made Dr Warner temporarily blind after seeing Rachel Hunter he had a dizzy spell and needed to lie down. Then Mrs Warner came with a coconut drink and said poor Dr Warner you need some time in a hammock. So she laid him in a hammock which he was unable to get out of it for about 48 hours.

“What’s been going?” Ms Jenny wondered and gave Ms Dolly a real nosy stare. Ms Dolly laughed like a true “A’know, ya ain’t” character from a dialogue in a Miss’ippi magazine. Ms Dolly applied foundation to Ms Jenny’s face. “Pushin’ 40, honey, we need to put in some effort to make ya look like 25”. She paused. “Well, there was this gentleman and a beautiful, young woman here asking all sorts of questions about you. Had this weird accent I’ve never heard before. Sounded like Australians with a chill”.

Ms Jenny pondered this for a bit. Probably the Chieftain and Ms Tizzy. “Did they threaten you?” Ms Dolly’s eyes was rolling. “Threaten me? Aww, naw, darlin’, quite the contrary. The gentleman gave me a lot of compliments”. Ms Dolly blushed. “And I really liked his gold tooth. His female sidekick was somewhat annoying, bless her heart, poor thing, but I believe a gentleman knows whenever he faces a real lady”. Ms Jenny giggled. “Like yourself?” Ms Dolly made a move for some hair color and placed it in front of Ms Jenny. “Now, girl, ain’t you got no raisin’? One more bratty comment from you and I’ll make your hair look like a bunch of tumbleweed”.

oh no Dr Chris Warner and his new wife are on the island. Possibly on their honeymoon. Rachel had eyes and ears out and a sixth sense about when a man was after her.

She usually liked to do the hunting, rather than the other way around.

I must move to another island otherwise when he sees me he'll forget all about her and be spellbound by me.

Rachel hopped on to a yacht and sailed away to the nearest motu which was Atutaki. The natives all welcomed this unusual green haired supermodel and plied her with coconut drinks. The Beauty Queen is paying us a visit! Everyone got out their best welcoming perfomance and put on a feast in her honor.

Rachel Hunter was adored, but she was kinda wanting to remain anonymous, however that was never going to happen in her lifetime.

50 million giant rabbits in Rubyland, but they have escaped into former Mosetaria and we counted just as many there. Said Burke.

Kevin stroked his chin, which was recently shaved. Hmm. Im glad they havent hopped over to Lanolinland or we would have a hard time keeping them out of our trampoline parks. Whats going on over there, have they even finished that 613 commandments film yet?

No idea Kevin. Last I heard King Charles was getting his head measured for the coronation, and he requested that New South Wales to be annexed. I did see advertisments in the Lanolinland Herald askng for police recruits to New South Wales, so he must be desperate to get some law and order there, before he takes over. Its right next to Evereverland.

Will you be going back there Burke?

Not a chance mate, not a chance.

Charles the third was looking at his hat collection. The crowns were heavy and made of gold with jewels in them but they would not balance on his head correctly. Luckily he had big ears that stuck out to catch them so they didnt fall down.

How do I look Gladys? He asked his wife.

Camilla glanced over. Like the King of the World she said. She was trained in sycophancy and knew just what to say.

Charles was a bit glum. He preferred the hats Santa wore. They were cozy and furry not flashy and heavy. Santa Claus has more territories than I do though muttered Charles.

Was he jealous?

Santa Claus was enjoying his time off in Shittimstan with his wife. He had a brief gig as ruler of Jennymaesian KFC empire when Miss Jenny abdicated yet again...she was always off having Jane Blonde moments of some intrigue or another...but that ended as soon as it had started.

It was only because Santa Claus had a good likeness to Colonel Sanders that he was able to fill in for him.
Mrs Santa Claus was busy with Santa Baby and spoiling her with too many toys.

Shittimstan is great it never sees a day of snow. I think I would like to live here year round, said Santa Claus.

Mrs Santa Claus demurred. What about Evereverland? What will happen to it if we abandon it?

Im thinking of leasing it to Charles the third. He could use a few more pineapples in his tropical fruit collection.

I suppose so, but where will we stay in Shittimstan? Mrs Hairy cant host us forever. We shall have to build our own mud hut.

I will talk to her husband about it. Leave it with me, said Santa Claus, and he laid a finger on the side of his nose and winked.

Santa had a choice of house in Shittimstan...one made out of Pringle tubes, one made out donut boxes, or one made out of lego bricks.

The Great Chieftain of Mosestaria twirled the ends of his mustache victoriously. The icy figure of his somewhat-respected-but-nonetheless-widely-disdained Arch Nemesis stared motionlessly back at him in the Frozen Enemies section of his secret bunker in the Mosestarian sector of Antarctica, along with his Arch Nemesis' husband "Morty" - a bully and troublemaker of small repute from the Great Chieftain's childhood - and the 3 young children Morty had somehow apparently tricked the Great Chieftain's Arch Nemesis into bearing. Behind the frozen family were several frozen GG's Awesome Mom clones, which the Great Chieftain had also put on ice, back in the days when cloning had been temporarily outlawed. There was also a frozen old-guy in a wheel chair who looked to be only moments from death at the point of his suspended animation - a "Mr Long Ears" judging by the name-badge on the wheelchair.

"Are you ever going to dethaw those GG's Awesome Mom clones?" a sweet, feminine voice interrupted the Great Chieftain's savoring of his past victories, as the beautiful Tzipora entered into the Frozen Enemies section of the Mosestarian Secret Base.

The Great Chieftain waved his right hand dismissively. "I thought they might be a help to you, if ever you needed a hand cleaning the bunker, or civilising the bogans, or looking after the 12 children and Bubba?" the Great Chieftain asked helpfully in reply.

Tzipora frowned. "Because if you're not going to dethaw them, I really would like you to thrown them out. Rubbish collection day is on Friday, and they've been taking up space in the Frozen Enemies section of the bunker for a long while now..."

The Great Chieftain scowled. Tzipora's interruption had barely given him time to reminisce the grand scheme whereby he had lured his Arch Nemesis to her ultimate fate by the employment of a Ruby-red paint job for an otherwise ugly, pink-and-purple mobile wreck (which Santa had reputedly used to dispatch the nefarious horse-lady Jacinta). How he had enjoyed the look of indignation on Morty's face - Morty being his cousin on his mother's side - when Morty had realised that throwing sand into the Great Chieftain's eyes was not going to get Morty or the Great Chieftain's Arch Nemesis out of this cunning scheme, as the liquid nitrogen temperature trap in the mobile wreck rapidly lowered the temperature well below 0.

"No, no, it's alright," the Great Chieftain consoled Tzipora. "I'll dethaw at least one of them before Easter. We can have her help prepare the Easter feast for the bogans."

"Make sure you do," Tzipora countered defiantly. "Else I'll be leaving them out for rubbish collection myself."

The Great Chieftain scanned the newspaper for the latest. Some interesting reports from Jennymaesia, but sadly, the same old fake news and propaganda from Lanolinland. The Great Chieftain sighed. He guessed the Lanolinland Fake News editor was rather like the bunion that one gets on one's big toe, if one doesn't wash one's feet. No matter how much chemical you burn it with, no matter that you sear it with heat and with cold, with ice and with fire, one just can't get rid of it. In some ways, although he might not admit it aloud, the Great Chieftain did have some respect for that quality of the Lanolinland Fake News editor.

Poor Mosetarians, suffering from bunions. said Kevin to nobody in particular

? asked President Lanolin, who had no idea what bunions were and had to look them up in the dictionary.
When she did, she was a bit grossed out. But then she was not really concerned with the health and lifestyle of the Mosetarians who for some strange reason CHOSE to suffer from their own chillblains and frostbite.

They just masochists, really. Wanting sympathy.

Kevin raised his eyebrow.

Oh ok send them some of Miss Greenlips Hines kawakawa balm to put on their feet and some warm merino socks. And some squishmallows. Really Kevin you are too soft.

Its not chillblains or frostbite, said Kevin. its cos they wear pointy shoes.

What, are the Mosetarians ballerinas? Or figure ice skaters?

Who knows, said Kevin, they are always putting out 'fake news' that dont make any sense whatsoever. Then accusing everyone else of putting out propaganda. But its their problem as our news has really nothing to do with theirs.

President Lanolin thought for a bit. She had given all her newspapers to her neighbour to burn as fuel for her fire. She never read the papers, as they were usually full of advertising.

what news are they talking about? The 6o clock news? Who has time for that? Im usually eating dinner at that hour.

The fake news...!

What, they want the REAL news? President Lanolin laughed. They can go on CC news forum for that. They must be confusing my posts as news. I only ever post on the Last Person To Post Wins thread everyday. Though thats nothing new as I always win...

Kevin couldnt account for the Mosetarians small brain size that they couldnt tell the difference between satire or a news article.

I think you should leave off for now, give them a chance to recover from the shock and their own hammer toes said President Lanolin. The Mosetarians have always given us trouble. we dont need to be mansplaining everything to them.

He has put Ms Ruby on ice? Ms Jenny stared intensely at the Spy-O-Matic instant edition she always was carrying in her purse. Even the screen was barely six inches wide she could clearly recognize Ms Ruby’s face. Of course, it could be a dummy serving some propaganda scheme, but deep down she knew it wasn’t. To her great satisfaction Mr Long-Ears was also a resident of the frozen world.

How could she go about saving Ms Ruby? She dialed the number of a political miracle for help.

-This is THE Henry Kissinger, a voice answered.
-Sir, Mr Kissinger, be that you? she stuttered in a rural grammar
-Indeed, he said Kissingerly.
-I need some assistance with a foreign project, she said tentatively
-A war, invasion or just some initial unrest? the voice said curiously
Ms Jenny didn’t really know, but decided on an invasion. Unrest was the law of the land in Mosestaria, and a war was a bit on the serious side.
-Excellent, Mr Kissinger exclaimed, I have just the right guys for you. Wire the amount we agreed on to my bank account in 30 minutes.
-Yes, sir, Mr Kissinger, Ms Jenny said.

She wired the money and wheels were already spinning. The unit, which Mr Kissinger, of course, had no knowledge of, officially, that is, snuck into the country and soon located the freezer. The sight of the frozen residents was a gruesome experience. They’d probably break into pieces if they were moved out. Not to mention the risk of being turned into ice statues themselves. They had to find the evil ruler and make him let the prisoners go.

Santa decided he would have all three houses built. The donut box for himself, the pringles tube for his wife, and the lego brick one for Santa Baby. He would connect all three by a covered walkway and they would all share a courtyard.

He also ordered some wilding pines sent over from Lanolinland to make a christmas tree hedge around the perimeter. Hairy gave him some land and the sod or mud was turned over the next day.

Mr and Mrs Hairy were overjoyed that Santa Claus and his wife had decided to stay permanently in Shittimstan. It would benefit their country immensely.

The guinea pig hackers typed in 'evil ruler' into DuckduckGo, the one who had put Ms Ruby on ice

They soon located the mysterious Ms Tizzy. If anyone could stop her, it would be her annoying little sister, Elsa.

Ms Jenny gasped. I assumed the evil ruler was male! . My mistake.

But it was too late - the "evil ruler" had already found them. Of course, the Great Chieftain of Mosestaria was not really an "evil ruler". Rulers are used for measuring the length of things, and the Great Chieftain of Mosestaria just happened to be a little longer than most. So not really evil... Just large feet.

Anyway, it had been a mistake for the intrepid Miss Jenny to involve the services of Mr Kissinger. Mr Kissinger was an ageing geriatric, who had only risen to the political heights he had previously risen to because of great wealth, and similar to the fundamental principles of a sewerage system, the most undesirable elements in such systems tend to float to the top.

Anyhoo, one of the well-dressed bogans on guard duty in the secret bunker in the Mosestarian sector of Antarctica - specially trained by Tziporah herself - quickly identified Mr Kissinger as an interloper, given that his pal George Sore-oss was getting pretty strapped for cash with all the lawyers he was paying to indict Trump - and hadn't shouted Mr Kissinger a decent disguise. The guard bogan had intended to let Miss Jenny go, given her almost-magical, blazing red hair and general good looks, but because she was with Mr Kissinger, decided that he should play it safe and turn them both in.

When the two interlopers were brought before the Great Chieftain of Mosestaria in his throne-room, he smiled a broad smile, and Miss Jenny noticed a gold tooth that blinked in the Antarctican sunlight, as if to say "Welcome to the Mosestarian sector of Antarctica (again), Miss Jenny".

Miss Jenny watched in horror as the Great Chieftain of Mosestaria twirled his mustache victoriously, and calmly ordered for the disintegration of her overpaid, war-criminal companion. Two highly trained bogan guards focused their disintegrater rays upon Henry, and with a high-pitched shriek of terror that would make even the most lilly-livered lady cringe with shame for her cowardice, Mr Kissinger was disintegrated. All that remained was a steaming, brown pile of obnoxious-smelling material, which the bogan cleaners quickly cleaned up with heavy-duty disinfectant and flushed down the nearest toilet.

"So we meet again, Miss Jenny?" the Chieftain asked cheerfully.

Miss Jenny wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement.

"Tea or coffee?" asked the Great Chieftain, as he gestured to Miss Jenny to accompany him to a nearby table.

"You disintegrated my assistant!" she exclaimed indignantly at the Chieftain, her hands on her hips, her lips quivering just a little at the unexpected loss.

The Great Chieftain shrugged. "He was a war criminal... And there was quite the bounty on his head."

Before Miss Jenny could respond, another face she recognised entered into the Great Chieftain's throne room. It was the face of a man she had previously grown to love... But this time, he looked somewhat different. He was shirtless, and his muscles seemed larger, stronger, more masculine than before. She supposed he might even be the most beautiful man in the cosmos.

"Charles..." Miss Jenny managed to whisper, as her heart skipped several beats.

Ms Jenny couldn’t believe her tiny spying apparatus. She could clearly see herself and Mr Kissinger before the evil ruler. In great haste she picked up the phone and called Mr Kissinger. “Sir, Mr Kissinger, did you send lookalikes to Mosestaria?” After a short pause Mr Kissinger sighed. “I’m afraid we’re both there and here”. Ms Jenny gasped. “How’s that possible?” He cleared his throat. “It’s pure witchcraft, one of the crew members is from Salem, Massachusetts, and by accident he put a spell on us resulting in a situation where the good sides of us went to Mosestaria, while our evil sides remains here…not that it matters much regarding me”, he chuckled. Ms Jenny laughed wickedly. “Then all is good, then?” she said. “Oh yes”, Mr Kissinger assured her.

RabbitDigs had already built/burrowed ten thousands of homes in Lanolinland that the kiwis could move in immediately and start laying their eggs. Many who werent ready to lay just put in chocolate decoys in, knowing that chocolate could kill any dogs if they sniffed them out.

Kevin was pleased. The kiwi population was thriving and were not going to become extinct after all!
He just had to make sure the dogs kept to the South Island and didnt try to build a bridge over the Cook Strait. He kept the windmachines on the Manawatu hills going so that it created rough conditions over the sea to deter any dogs from trying to swim across.

President Lanolin said to Kevin its good to have deterrants but you need something to keep the dogs to their island, like rewards and treats. Throw them a couple of sticks and bones every now and then. That will keep them running in the other direction.

Kevin got fake bones made out of wilding pine off cuts. It was like he had a never ending supply. The rest of the wilding pines he sent to Shittimstan for Santa Clauses new hedge.

President Lanolin settled down into her reading hammock. I havent read this one in a while.
She picked up an old, battered copy of George Orwells' Animal Farm.
Soon she was immersed in it.

Huh those pigs she exclaimed. But then a nagging thought worried her. There werent many pigs in Lanolinland, but, she hadnt actually counted the guinea pigs in the recent census. They were refugees from Shittimstan and most of them had graduated Ohakune Carrot school and gone on to Evereverland and trained as SAS possums. Surely they were loyal to Lanolinland though and hadnt become corrupted?

Santa was looking forward to his hot cross buns.
But in Shittimstan, they had never heard of hot cross buns, or easter eggs, or pancakes or roast lamb or any such delicacies. All they had was donuts.

Mrs Santa Claus was concerned, do they not know its Eastertime?

They soon found out when anyone died in Shittimstan, they were not buried or wrapped or given a funeral. They were just hung up in a tree and/or given to the vultures to peck out their eyes.

This is terrible, said Santa. Its worse than in olden time Lanolinland.

Why what happened in olden time Lanolinland?

If anyone died in olden time Lanolinland, they had their heads cut off and were boiled up to make soup.