Temporary President Dayv

If you missed part 1, it's here Diligent Dayv

Diligent Dayv - Part 2

‘Hello President Dayv,’ said the voice from the intercom. A little pink light switched on by the label Front Door.
‘Hello Mr. Policeman, sir. That’s Temporary President Dayv, by the way. How is your wife’s earache today?’

‘It’s a bit better thank you, Mr. Temporary President. Er, you’ve got a visitor. With a petition ..’

‘Yes, that will be Pursi Prattlehume. Wednesday is his day to commute into town on the tram and visit the state-registered neuro-linguistic quantum astrologer. It’s available on prescription now you know. It is Pursi, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Mr. President Dayv, er, Temporary. Pursi Paininthebum, I thought he said, but I expect my ears were deceiving me. Can I tell him to piss off?’
‘I don’t think so, Mr. Policeman. I expect your wife would miss the regular salary. I’m on my way.’

‘The country has gone to the dogs, you say,’ quoth Dayv. ‘but people with no money and no support are going to a foreign country (I mean here) to work in menial jobs. Then they face your hostility.
How would you feel going to another country, on your own, to do the same?’
‘They’ve no real cause to worry,’ ranted Pursi.
Dayv pondered. He found he was getting better with practice.
‘But if they lived in a wealthy country, had many state benefits, free counselling from the state registered neuro-linguistic quantum astrologer, secure housing and a free bus and tram pass, they’d be entitled to be very anxious indeed?’

Pursi goldfished for a while. ‘The Pinks never work!’
‘Except on the night shift at Naff Pasties ™,’ quoth Dayv.
‘They’re taking all the jobs!’ added Pursi.
‘The ones you don’t want,’ said Dayv. ‘I’m only checking I’ve understood you, you see.’

*

Strewth, what a table, thought Dayv. I guess a cabinet meeting needs something huge and impressive.
‘They had a point about the huge cars that take departmental mail from here to just down the road,’ said Dayv. ‘Surely a bicycle courier could do that?’
The assembled ministers looked puzzled.
‘The 2nd Coming Down the Nostril Trainspotters,’ explained Dayv.
‘I thought they were wossnames?’
‘They’ve decided on Trainspotters, for the moment, having discovered this common interest in their past.’

‘It’s a bit insecure, a bicycle. What with terrorists and such,’ said the Secretary of State for Offence.
‘Anything is a bit insecure with terrorists,’ said Dayv. ‘We’ll study the possibility in depth.’
And they did.

*

Lawks, what a huge and creaky leather seat, thought Dayv. And what a huge and creaky leader of the opposition.
‘We employed an experienced bicycle courier . . .,’ began Dayv. And the leader of the opposition interrupted.
‘I beg your pardon,’ said President Dayv. ‘I thought you’d finished speaking.’
He found he was using this phrase continually during his weekly Temporary Imperial President’s Question Time.
The leader of the opposition brayed the opinion that Dayv’s party were, coincidentally, doing every single thing wrong, and his party would be better. A chorus of agreeable braying noises emanated from his fellow party members. A chorus of disagreeing braying noises responded from Dayv’s hastily assembled coalition. Sadly, Dayv couldn’t really tell them apart in the general hubbub. This reminds me of DonkeyWorld, thought Dayv.
‘The dangers you mentioned were all taken account of,’ said Dayv, once the din had abated, and he was interrupted. Braying was perpetrated, and Dayv was close to losing his temper. He hadn’t lost his temper since he was about seven years old, so he decided to play patience instead.
This enraged the opposition, so he decided to stop, thought better of it and finished the game. This engendered throbbing temples and an increasingly purple complexion in the leader of the opposition.

‘The dangers you mentioned were all taken account of,’ said Dayv, ‘that’s why we staged such a thorough test ambush.’
There was silence, which was something of a treat.

*

‘It’s Pursi P.I.T. Bum,’ groaned the policeman. ‘She’s gone deaf again, before you ask. Except on pay-day.’
‘Oh good,’ quoth Dayv. ‘This should be entertaining.’
‘Have you gone nuts, Mr. President Temporary Dayv?’ asked the policeman.
‘I expect so, yes,’ said Dayv, and headed for the front door.

‘Good day Pursi,’ quoth Dayv.
‘About this test ambush,’ snarled Pursi. It wasn’t a convincing snarl on account of his nervous glances at the policeman and generally wimpoid stature. ‘It’s irresponsible to engender such worry in the general populace.’
He’s learned a new phrase from the Daily Mule Standard Normal Haili Improbabull Pocket Dictionary of Phrase and Cliché, thought Dayv.
‘Oh yes,’ quoth Dayv. ‘Should we let the terrorists know when we run such a test?’
‘Why are you asking me? It’s your job to make decisions!’ flustered Pursi.
Diligent Dayv deliberated. It made a change from pondering and had a far superior alliteration index.
‘Are you a member of the 2nd Nostril Wossnames?’ asked Dayv. It was just a hunch.

‘No, but I did wonder,’ Pursi replied. His eyes developed a faraway look and he forgot to snarl for a while.
‘They are the 2nd Coming something or other Folk Dance Society now,’ Pursi added.
‘What do you do, Pursi?’ asked Dayv. ‘For a job, I mean.’ This was hunch number 2.
‘Disabled,’ muttered Pursi, and suddenly remembered to limp.
When Pursi had left, Dayv phoned the head of security.
‘His coming to pester me everyday does seem a strange cover for a terrorist, but I’ve decided you can tail Pursi for a week. Video would be useful.’
‘Good,’ said Security, and he meant it. The sheer quantity of new high tech gizmos he’d acquired and been unable to test was causing him sleepless nights. The screens, the icons, the buttons, the wallpaper . . .

*

Mrs. Prattlehume took Pursi by the hand and dragged him towards the shops.
‘I’ve put your money in your purse, and the list in your pocket,’ grumbled Mrs. Prattlehume. ‘Do you need me to push your shopping trolley, too?’
She’s enjoying this, thought Dayv.
Pursi stammered and did as he was bid.
‘Hello Mr. And Mrs. Prattlehume,’ smiled their friendly postman.
Lucky sod, thought Dayv.
Dayv switched off the tape.
‘Good work, Security,’ he said. ‘You can stop the surveillance now.’
‘Can we arrest him?’
‘No!’
‘Can we shoot him then?’
‘No! Not yet.’ I’ve got to leave him some sort of hope, I suppose, mused Dayv. God, what a bloody awful job. I’ve told a lie . . .

*

Diligent Dayv and Pursi Prattlehume were in conference. On Dayv’s doorstep.
‘In future we will run an online poll for all major decisions,’ quoth Dayv. ‘Access will be provided for all people to vote.’
Pursi looked forlorn.
‘But,’ he wailed.
‘But you’ve got what you demanded,’ said Dayv. ‘It’s the government’s final decision, but you will vote, and we will listen,’ said President Dayv. ‘There will be online evidence for perpetuity.’
‘Who’s she?’ snarled Pursi, mightily suspicious.
‘’What?!’ quoth Dayv.
‘Perpetuity,’ said Pursi. Honestly, some temporary imperial presidents . . .
‘She’s the oldest woman in Haili Improbabull,’ quoth Dayv. His second lie in one day, probably his second all time . . .

*

Diligent Dayv whistled while he worked.
‘Hello Dayv,’ said Mrs. Bluebottle. ‘How lovely to see you.’
‘And you Mrs. B.’
‘Didn’t you like that other job?’
‘Not so much as this, Mrs. B.’
‘Ooh,’ said Mrs. B. She felt flattered, but couldn’t really say why. Those nobby people on TV surely led a more exciting life than she did. ‘Why do you prefer delivering mail, then, Dayv?’ she asked.
‘The thing is, Mrs. B,’ said Dayv. He’d quit quothing along with the presidency. ‘When I deliver something to you, you get the message!’


The moral? We asked Diligent Dayv

‘I haven’t a clue,’ he confessed, with characteristic frankness. ‘Think twice before phoning the radio, maybe?’