There is a fiendish drug problem up and down the nation. People are out of control, gnawing on empty boxes of cornflakes, clapping hands when the news comes on the telly, and all the while injecting themselves with hard drugs; however it isn’t all sport with the drug user, as many are having limbs sawn off because their local dealer thinks it economically viable to mix his drugs with rat poison, talcum powder, and common-folk dandruff.
People would be up in arms on this, however they don’t have any. When the Government issued a ‘WAR ON DRUGS’ some locals took the law into their own hands and started arming themselves, shooting, arresting, beating, and stoning people who looked like drug dealers – it was getting to the stage where people were scared to wear too much gold on the streets. One result of this WAR was that less dandruff was being mixed into the heroin and that the price came down, however the main concern of the middling folks was that there was too many zombies walking their streets. One person commented, “all they do is gibber all day, like street monkeys!”
A Cabinet minister rushed to the town to attempt to stem the tide of Zombi-ism, and told the folks that drug taking will not be tolerated, not for one second, and that punishments would be meted out. He told them that there was a WAR ON DRUGS!; and speaking to a group of local drug heads, in a drug clinic, he thought he had made an impact on their mental well being, although his rhetoric and frantic hand waving sent them all crazy and loopy and the white knuckled group grabbed his head and started rubbing it for dandruff.
Over in Afghanistan, a field of Poppies was going up in purple haze. One local Baron of the region said he wasn’t too miffed about the high flames because ministers had bought him and his family (including his pet gorilla) tickets to see Status Quo live in concert. When asked why he allowed strangers to come and burn his property, his simply said, “ what dja mean man? check the colours man!”
The Prime Minister has called his cabinet together. The group decided that there needed to be a new and fresh and stimulating policy on the drug problem; this time, their reason was precise and enervating, it sent some people into a ping pong competition; the new plan was simple, but deadly: A WAR ON THE WAR ON DRUGS.
One family in Cheshire had taken it upon themselves to start a group called: “Cheshire families taking the drug problem on themselves, why not?” The group sponsored cadets, boy scouts, and brownies; they would smash drug dealers windows with giant cookies and stale cakes; when Halloween came along they would dress up as police officers and hope that the drug lords would be fearful, but they would just be tossed into skips.
The government decided they had had enough of spending billions on the WAR ON DRUGS and THE WAR ON THE WAR ON DRUGS and decided to legalize drugs; they said that they were no longer going to play the caring parent, and that the people could just shove off! Paranoia struck the country. The criminals felt afraid. They didn’t know what to do, however some went back to university to learn mathematics, some went into the music business, and some stuck their heads into toilets and flushed.
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