Diligent Dayv - Postman to President - funny stories
Diligent, satire, President, funny stories, politics, psychology
Funny Short Stories -
Diligent Dayv, Postman to President!
The archives of The Wogan Institute for Penetrating Sociological Insight and High Fat Diets on Planet Donut reveal
this surprising tale of the evolution of The People's Republic of Haili Improbabull. (With thanks to Roland T.
Tramp (editor) and Honda Prelude (research)).
After what felt like 7,000,000 orbits of the sunne around their world, (which, in common with most worlds,
they named The Centre of the Universe) but was really a mere 333 orbits, the people of Haili Improbabull became so
disaffected, disappointed, disinterested and generally dissed off by the succession of bright-eyed new emperors
who, without exception became bitter, dictatorial and of questionable morals that they spontaneously began
a campaign to elect Dayv. Dayv, the non-politician.
It was either that or dismiss the failed emperor by disarming, disembowelling, dissecting and desiccating
(without discrimination, of course). The disembowelling quite appealed to the Haili-Improbabulloids, but they
loathed the Pinks for perpetrating such acts of vengeance so they felt they'd better give it a miss this time.
Dayv had been minding his own business, and wasn't even very diligent about that, whilst concentrating on
his paid employment as a diligent daily deliverer of parcels and letters to people in his village (by bike and
on foot). Suddenly fame came to call.
In an absent-minded moment he phoned the local radio station. The reason is, you see, they made light entertainment
by offering ten Haili Improbabull d'lahs to the first person out of the hat (really a computer program developed
by the MicroLimp Corporation™) to correctly name the day of the week.
The snag was, they tried to get their full ten d'lahs worth by subsequently asking the winner for their
views about the problem of the Pinks (who were taking all the jobs), where he was going on holiday, the other
problem of the Pinks (who wouldn't work) and such like.
Diligent Dayv, being notoriously honest and very happy in his job replied 'I don't know' to every question,
and this caught the popular imagination.
Those who knew Dayv well would vouch for the fact that in his daily life he always did this.
The popular imagination, an invisible though fearsomely powerful beast, was positively ignited, inflamed and
incandescent when Diligent Dayv phoned the radio station again, on the following day, with considered answers
to all the questions.
Honda Prelude reveals that the 'We Want Dayv' movement began within a few days of his radio interview. A
presidential election was forced within six moons and Diligent Dayv, daily deliverer of mail, became President
Dayv, Temporary Emperor of The People's Republic of Haili Improbabull. The 'temporary' tag was added to the
title at Dayv's insistence because he'd seen what happened to all the previous president/emperors.
Dayv hadn't been in the job long before Pursi Prattlehume came knocking on his door, bearing a petition
with five signatures. FIVE! The petition was reinforced by several letters and emails, all from P.
Prattlehume esq. (p.prattlehume@Pmail.com).
The reason for Pursi Prattlehume's agitation was the arrival in The People's Republic of Haili Improbabull
of several Pinks (natives of The People's Republic of Pinkness) who had trekked all the way to Haili Improbabull
for the chance of stacking shelves at Teskos™
or personning the telephones at MicroLimp™. MicroLimp™ had exported many jobs to Haili Improbabull
following the devaluation of the Haili Improbabull d'Lah, and international calls became dirt cheap with dogband
(it's like ADSL broadband, but even cheaper).
'What are you going to do about the Pinks taking all our jobs?' demanded Pursi. His eyes were wild, foam was
evident in the corners of his mouth (it didn't fleck) and he pointed a finger at Dayv in precisely the orientation
that made it most easy to dislocate or break, should the pointee feel so inclined.
Dayv didn't know.
'I don't know,' he said. 'I didn't realise they had.'
He turned to the huge policeman that guarded his front door. 'Are you a visitor from The People's Republic of
'No sir, President Dayv,' replied the policeman.
'Nor I,' said Dayv. 'I'll do some research Pursi, and get back to you.'
'You do that,' snapped Pursi Prattlehume. He pointed to the front page of the Haili Improbabull Daily Mule,
the alleged newspaper which reported a flood of Pinks pouring into the country. The Mule sold oodles of newspapers
'You do that,' he repeated, pointing again at Dayv. The huge policeman moved his immense weight slightly to the
left, then slightly to the right. He cracked his knuckles behind his back.
Once Dayv was settled in at The Temporarily Imperial Palace and had managed to kick the habit of walking the
streets pushing things through letterboxes, he noticed the people's euphoria abating somewhat. He watched the
news on TV, and after the initial shock of realising he was on it, he began to study the faces of the complaining
The Daily Improbabull Mule™ newspaper ran stories on the lines of 'The Pinks are Immigrating.'
They ran stories on 'Naff Pasties™ can't find the staff to work nights.'
Diligent Temporary President Dayv was aware of this because one P. Prattlehume esq., visited and showed him
'I didn't know that,' said Diligent Dayv. 'But I'll find out.'
The angry protesters on TV waved 'What is Dayv doing?' placards.
'I'm finding out,' said Dayv, from the comfort of the Temporary Imperial President's Jacuzzi.
Before he'd dried himself the intercom rang. It often did at such moments.
'Hello Mr Dayv, sir. There is a large group of voters, but personally I'd call them religious nutters,
who wish to worship you. Can I tell them to sod off?'
'Better not, Mr. Policeman. Have they got any weapons?'
'None that I can see. They don't seem the type.'
'Could be an improvement on the TV then. How's the wife.'
'Dunno. Just some woman I wake up next to.'
Dayv gotitated somewhat.
'I said How's the wife.'
'Oh! Sorry Dayv. Thought you said who. Of course, I sometimes wonder whose she is, too. Now that you
ask, she's a bit deaf.'
'Hello Dayv. We're the 2nd Coming of NostrilDamus the neo-vegetarian, pro-vitamin, anti-censorship,
'Yes. I thought you probably would be,' smiled Dayv.
'We haven't decided on the last word yet. It is the subject of lively democratic debate!'
'That is encouraging,' quoth Dayv. 'Democratic debate and no weapons. The twin pillars of our
civilisation. What did you wish to talk about?'
'Well we have a list of suggestions, channelled directly from the spirit e-world by Mavis' wonky
modem. Stop hiding Mavis! And substantiati . . . corroboroborob . . . , with similar quotes from the
diaries of NostrilDamus. That's from the diaries of his first incarnation, of course.'
'That's reassuring,' quoth Dayv.
'Top of our agenda is the environment,' said the spokesperson.
'Excuse me one moment,' said the huge policeman. 'Kindly stand back whilst the mail is delivered.
I think you will find this is an essential item in the plot. Though 'plot' may be something of an
overestimate . . .'
The 2nd Coming Wossnames did as they were bid and a small, securely-locked case was delivered from
the huge, armour plated, tinted-windowed, government car.
The spokesperson tutted disapproval at most of the car. The fact is, the car was so big that your
average Haili Improbabull-Standard tutter couldn't convincingly tut all of it in one gasp.
Dayv noticed they'd overlooked the worship, which was a great comfort to him in his time of
'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 Cliche, 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?'
'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?'
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