The Banned Game

In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine, beneath the secret underground fortress on Petermann Island in the Mosestarian sector of Antarctica, the somewhat infamous but dashingly handsome-in-a-nefarious-supervillain-type-of-way Great Chieftain of Mosestaria, Moses the Young(er), rested satisfactorily upon his pick-axe. Mordecai, his faithful but not-so-sharp-witted cousin and second-in-charge was with him, resting on a spade.

The Great Chieftain had endured many months of fake news gushing and gurgling steadily forth from Lanolinland, and on more than one occasion, had needed to employ the services of a particularly skillful plumber to ensure the fake-news and propaganda could continue to flow steadily to its final resting place. Tzipporah Iona Causing Trouble After Consideration (TICTAC for short), the full name of the Great Chieftain's most faithful, loyal and beautiful female companion (at least according to her birth certificate), had been quite busy converting Great Barry Island bogans into functional minions of the Mosestarian mining brigade. Although she would have liked to report a 100% success rate, with bogans, such a rate would be nearly impossible.

In realitiy, the first few failed attempts could have been more the cause of the secret base's sewerage issues than the fake news from Lanolinland, but no one wanted to blame the bogans when the President of Lanolinland was a far more convenient scapegoat. General practice now was to send them to the Ruby triangle, where Mrs Ruby and Morty had their own effective means of treating bogans.

Although the Great Chieftain had been somewhat jubilant in recent times that the Great Tyrant of the Western side of the Great Barry R Island, a marxist known as Marxist McGown - whose main claim to fame was being as repugnant and useless as the tip leftover from a Jewish naming ceremony, but who had sadly stuck around for 10 years longer than the eight days usually permitted by tradition - had been eaten by a crocodile, the Great Chieftain was preparing for the next phase of the conflict.

Captain Biden had all but been outed as some sort of demented child abuser, and Captain Trump had been taken under arrest. Everyone knew about the financial crash that was coming - or as the WEF members would jokingly refer to it amongst themselves - The Great Schwabbery Robbery - but the Great Chieftain suspected that there would be more to it than that.

Great Barry R Islander sponsored Russian-hacks would likely be employed to feign the greatest heist in recorded history, who in turn would blame it on Mosestaria and her Great Chieftain and his loyal minions. Also, there would likely be some sort of faked alien invasion, and the Great Chieftain couldn't stand all the hysteria over the "covid" cold-and-flu saga, so he knew he probably wouldn't be able to stand the paranoia and fear amidst the general populace when government employees dressed in fake alien drag and piloting man-made saucers started conducting acts of war on their own populations.

"And that is why we dig!" the Great Chieftain thought to himself grandiosly, as his not-so-sharp-witted cousin and converted bogan mining minions dug deep under the caverns of Antarctica.

Ofcharles sat down with Oflanolin on one of the park benches overlooking Niagara falls to share her beavertails with the stranger. If anyone passing by suspected, Ofcharles could say she was just chatting with a tourist, having a picnic and admiring the view.

Books are a precious commodity here, whispered Ofcharles. She looked covetously at Oflanolins bookbag. They had been banned since the last dynasty.

OfLanolin undrew the drawstring and pulled out The Secret. You may have this, she said. Oprah Winfrey wants you to have it. And you must put your name on the mailing list for Tupperware. The men will think you are just throwing an innocent house party for women and selling plastic lunchboxes, but Oprah can get the books to you this way.

Thank you said OfCharles. She hid the book underneath the teatowel in her shopping basket. She wanted to pour out her poor Old Maids Tale of woe to Oflanolin, but she stopped herself from burdening the stranger with her problems that OfLanolin couldnt do anything about.

OfLanolin munched on her beavertail, It tasted of cinnamon and was quite crunchy. These are delicious she said. Look! she exclaimed, someone's going over Niagara falls in barrel. Again!

hmm looks like Miss Jenny has commited her first faux pas shouting at poor Miss Goodbooks in the library.
How come she didnt land in Quarantine Island before arriving on these shores? Jacinta would have fortified her with coffee and banned books and given her elocution lessons on how to speak Lanolinese.

Kevin was filing an incident report that Miss Greenlips Hine had typed up.

I dont know, said Kevin. We never had that problem with the other Dixielanders. Miss Bluebell and Miss Tailfeather were well behaved and respectful, and didnt demand that everyone serve them KFC all the time. They came here to learn. I dont know what Miss Jennys about. Maybe she think she owns Lanolinland and expects us to observe HER customs. The whole Jennymaesian empire was clearly too large for her to handle.

It seems the library was out of Faulkner which upset Miss Jenny greatly. The library DId however have Miss Jennys hagiography though and was still processing new copies Camillas too good to be true story which was soon to be shelved.

Is it the end of the world if the library has no copies of Faulkner? Apparently it was.

Miss Greenlips Hine you'll have to smooth things over since President Lanolin is away. I dont know what you can do with homesick people.

Take them home?

Miss Greenlips Hine was tasked with deporting Miss Jenny diplomatically.

Miss Jenny come with me. It looks like you need a good round of retail therapy. Lets see what we can find at the duty free shops. You've racked up so many airpoints and didnt spend them!

After shopping for perfume and and a beauty treatment of facial and pedicure, plus a good dose of espresso Miss Jenny was ready to face the world.

Now where are you staying Miss Jenny? I can take you right to your door. I'm a trained uber pilot.

I don't get banning for the fun of it. Banning is a serious thing. Sometimes there are good reasons to ban someone and sometimes it prevents the truth from coming out. If the person is offensive, then ban. If not, who is to judge?

Banning CorrectiveLens for not understanding the Banned Game spirit

I object!!!! LOL

Blessing to you and yours, friend.

likewise

There was a mix up with the library orders. Instead of 50 copies of Camillas too good to be true story, Miss Goodbooks opened up the carton to find 50 copies of Gangsta Granny by David Walliams.

Miss Goodbooks boss, Mrs Hardback, was not happy. Now our readers will be subject to misinformation and gossip instead of the truth. She sent Miss Goodbooks away on a PD training course on correct data entry.

She then ordered 50 copies of Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. He better be telling the truth or we'll sue the publisher. Mrs Hardback was known for being hard on the penguins.

Miss Jenny said she was staying in NZ.

Oh thats a long way from here, thought Miss Greenlips Hine. And no wonder Miss Jenny was confused and acting mighty strange.

I am happy to take you. Said Miss Greenlips Hine.

Miss Jenny stowed her Louis Vuitton bags in the private plane, sat back and enjoyed her fair trade coffee and biscotti. She was headed for North Zambia.

Correctivelens blinked and saw the sign saying NZ. He was standing at the airport holding up his own sign for Miss Jennys innniment arrival into North Zambia. He figured he better hold the sign up in case Miss Jenny failed to recognise him by the monocle he was wearing.

It read MISS JENNY
Everyone else had different names they were holding up, but he was the only one that had MISS JENNY and he had written it in his most careful handwriting. He planned to take her on a safari where they would go and watch elephants playing as that is what one did in North Zambia, to take their minds of all the cares of the world.

That rugged old librarian who called herself Miss Greenlips Hine, clearly had no idea that Ms Jenny had no intention of leaving the premises of where she was staying. North Zambia? Ain’t no Bama girl that myopic, she thought to herself. I’m in New Zealand, heading for Lanolinland and ain’t fixin to let no correctivelens tellin me otherwise. She denied the offer to go to North Zambia fiercely. “Get me Miss President on the phone! Now!” she told the green lipped librarian in a nice, yet demanding tone.

The elephants were gearing up to play their favourite game, rugby. Since they couldn't be in the All Blacks, and only one elephant was white, they named the NZ team the All Greys.

Miss Greenlips Hine, where's Miss Jenny, asked CorrectiveLens. I thought she was coming with you. We had a match.

Oh sorry she couldnt make it, said Miss Greenlips Hine. I dropped her off at the tardis since needed to use the phone and shes been teleported back to the White House. Said something about needing to get Miss
President, who Im sure is a Mr, but anyway...I couldn't understand her accent.

Well neither thats why I was only going to use sign language with her said CorrectiveLens. The MISS JENNY sign fell on the ground. She can read right?

OfLanolin crossed over the Rainbow Bridge to have a closer look at whoever was going over Niagara Falls in a barrel. OfCharles exchanged email addresses with OfLanolin and said she would keep in touch about the tupperware.

Then Ofcharles went back to the Republic of Gilead with The Secret stashed in her shopping basket.

The next day it seemed all the women knew The Secret and everyone was raving about tupperware, and the men found the maids were holding more morning teas than usual and seemed a lot happier.
The men had their own clubs where they played Monopoly for high stakes.

By that time OfLanolin had disappeared into her mobile library and was now off on her next adventure.

Hmm I think I'll take a trip to Narnia this time thought President Lanolin once she got back inside her mobile library. So much for the Republic of Gilead! Imagine, books being banned. Not somewhere I'd like to stay.
She opened the wardrobe and stepped inside. There was a blinding white flash of light and she found herself in a crystal covered land that looked like the set of Frozen.

Is this Narnia? She tried to make out the signs. It kind of looked like a winter wonderland. Surely the Snow Queen lived here or a lion or a witch. President Lanolin rubbed her eyes again, and put on her glasses.

Up ahead was the sign with fairy lights on it. It said Welcome to Norway.

Jacinta watched for the next shipment of contraband goods to arrive on Quarantine Island.
Lynx sat on her lap and purred. He was a good cat, and lived on the rats.

This time it was a tardis looking machine and most of it was full of Louis Vuitton luggage. There was a lady inside too. She was on the phone with someone.

Miss President! I wish to complain about the awful lack of Southern Literature in Lanolinland libraries. How can I sleep at night, knowing that not a soul in Lanolinland is ever exposed to the glories of Faulkner? How will they ever understand what miseries to endure when they have no Streetcar named Desire? Or be able to rule their own nation never having known a Confederacy of Dunces? And yet they have 50 copies of Uncle Toms Cabin!

This rant continued for some time.

The propaganda machine was working long hours in Lanolinland. According to the propaganda agency Ms Jenny was bound for Quarantine Island. How could that be? She was quite well dressed and dining in Wellington. How they could mix up Faulkner with Harriet was on them. A strange place indeed.

Miss Greenlips Hine and Corrective Lens watched the rugby match. The All Greys made a touch down so they cheered.
Too bad Miss Jennys not here, she's missing out remarked Corrective Lens.

I think she prefers her own company...give her a mirror and shes happily occupied for hours preening. Said Miss Greenlips Hine. We're a bit too parochial for her tastes.

Well the kindness of strangers has its limits.

After the match was over and the All Greys had won, MIss Greenlips Hine ubered them some elephant grass back at the zoo, then returned to free ranging her hens at the Beehive. Corrective Lens promised to keep a beady eye on Miss Jenny, lest she pull the dramatic damsel in distress routine again.

Ms Jenny had to admire the efficiency of the propaganda campaign in Lanolinland. She was still not on the mysterious country’s soil, but yet she was being portrayed as a self obsessed, raving mad woman. Even her taste in literature was being mocked. Obviously people here didn’t appreciate a visitor who uttered more than one syllable words in their “conversations”. Keep quiet or be on your way home seemed to be the law of the land. Well, we’ll see about that, she thought, and called her nefarious secretary to turn things around. The Gingers Linger project was born and there was no going back.