The wheels fall off when one starts believing one's own spin. And, steeped in the Discource of Freedoms that permeates institutions purporting to be liberal, the Nostril Photographer had chosen to exercise his Freedom of Screech by posting a facetious comment on an internal distribution list.
Those acquainted with the Nostril Photographer shrugged it off as facetious. But others took offence at the use of terms like "idiotic little heads" and "hijack" - given that these were used with reference to the Presidential Motorcade's use of the highway en route to the opening of Parliament. Within minutes of his hitting the send button - well, Martian minutes, given network speeds - the ether was crawling under the weight outraged responses calling for punishments which even religious extremists would find educational.
A public apology was duly given. In person, at a meeting. Virtually, on the same distribution list. The clamour subsided.
And then, as it receded into that mindspace reserved for bad memories - cluttered with ex-boy/girlfriends, primary school embarrassments and letters from your bank manager - Instant Karma struck. Lifting the phone, he found himself answering to someone purporting to be from the Presidency, who demanded that he be disciplined for his utterances.
In the conversation that followed - as he later reported it to the Cow - he let slip that he'd even voted for the Ruling Party in the previous election - the likeliness of which was challenged by his interlocuter. The cow found all of this interesting. Was it a ploy, she wondered, to solicit votes in the upcoming Local Government Election? By appealing to the guilty consciences of voters who had access to a platform - albeit His Master's Voice - whence to influence the impressionable minds of others, might Someone be seeking to boost the electoral chances of one of the contending parties?
The Cow recalled the parting communication from a previous Minister of Propaganda, who used her access to internal mailing lists to announce her candidacy for one of the political parties while communicating her departure. It wasn't impossible, she reckoned. Perhaps, with the passage of time, we might find ourselves driving in to work accosted by the leering grin of the Nostril Photographer from fading election posters promising A Better Lie For All....