This piece may NOT be freely reprinted. Please contact the author [see below] for re-print rights.

Committed to change.

The local NSP office was full. The Annual General Meeting [AGM] just happened to coincide with a march through the town that day, protesting at the proposal to build yet another mega store, within 100 metres of the existing one.

“We will create 150 jobs,” said the smiling corporate assassin. “And you will destroy 500 more,” countered a protester.

Bilbo Buttox was running for election. His slogan was Change-What Is It? Buttox, darling of the No Surrender Party, was taking no prisoners:

“We are absolutely committed to change. Our rivals steal our policies, our words, our slogans, but they will never steal our hearts and minds. We are committed to our change.

Our enemies talk about moving forward, staying resolute, and digging in. We declare that our change never changes, and never will. We pledge ourselves to change.

When I was a boy, I vowed to dedicate the rest of my life to change, to stand firm in the face of evil, of conflict, of illness and challenge. We will not be moved. Change is all there is, it is good, and the Lord knows it is good.

So, I stand here today before you, knowing that change represents all our futures, it has been our past, and it is certainly our present. We love change.

One day, my daddy, when he wasn’t changing light bulbs, his underpants, the TV channel, sheets on our beds, water in the dog’s bowl, and the nappy of my little baby brother, would tell me stories about change.

And do you know what? It made me change my mind about things. No sir, if we stand firm, and those in our community who cannot stand, sit firm, we will conquer all.

Let us go forward from this place and prepare for change. We will never surrender. WE-ARE-COMMITTED-TO-CHANGE! Let me hear it once again. WE-ARE-COMMITTED-TO-CHANGE! Once more for the Lord. WE-ARE-COMMITTED-TO-CHANGE!”

Cue pandemonium…

The protesters had no idea if Buttox favoured the supermarket or not. His campaign had been funded by the Grossco Supermarket chain, but so had the campaign of all his opponents. When the wind was blowing in from the East, Buttox had gushed about the need to preserve the village’s heritage, to protect the small shopkeeper, to keep the high street open for business.

And so had Grossco.

“By investing in this new development, we will ensure the future of the high street, the small shops will continue to flourish, and we will employ 150 local people from Poland. The British way of life is sacrosanct. Grossco believes in change, but not change for change’s sake.”

Concern about the impending march had led Superintendent Benigne to make his own statement.

“My sponsors, Grossco, have told me to tell you that we believe in peaceful protest. We are quite willing to let the weak-minded, naive and easily led walk through the town tonight, but not at our expense. It costs money to supervise these marches, and all of them, without exception, oppose change. The British way of life is sacrosanct. The police service believes in change. Indeed I would go so far as to say that we are committed to change.”

Just on the outskirts of town was a small community. They had few dealings with the local population, and many thought of them as a cult. Distant chanting could be heard at all hours of the day and night. They had been there for 10 years. Took over the old church and renovated it. Paid their taxes, and although few went outside the gated community, they bought all of their supplies from the townspeople.

The Leader of the Council, Bort, had more splinters in his backside than Buttox had spoken clichés, and he never hesitated in making his views known:

“Grossco are an admirable company. They want to build a new superstore next to the old one, which has served this town for five years. They are committed, as we are, to change. Understandably, some of the local people are upset. They would like some kind of change themselves, but not change for change’s sake. So, we have listened to their views, circulated them around the office for a few days, and decided they have a point.”

Jellybean, the ‘cult’ leader was most unlike his followers. They were sheep-like, he was outspoken. He would deliver his message everyday at the corner of the paved area in front of the Civic Centre:

“We live in turbulent times. Grossco want to build, you want them gone. Our ‘leaders’ tell you they want change, and condemn those who don’t. They, like me, talk in riddles. We talk for hours, playing with your emotions, getting you angry at one section of the community, and aligned behind another. They say nothing, yet they say everything.

Bilbo Buttox would like us to go too. But he can’t say it out loud, because he would lose the support of the local merchants, who we keep in business. He is in the pay of Grossco, but so are you. Yes, they subsidise your council tax, and you buy their cheap petrol, and cover the town in their plastic bags.

It seems Buttox likes change. But not change for change’s sake.

And my people, let me tell you that a few years ago, the forces of darkness were assembled at our gate, ready to come in and murder us all. It was planned. They would get one of our own who has been in their pay for years, to shoot one of you from inside our community. On the pretext we all had lost it, and were about to kill you all, they would steam in and kill us first. And who would be to blame for the carnage? Me of course, and I would be the first to be killed. Dead men can’t tell tales.

Why would they do this you may ask? Well, we provide a safe, clean, ecologically friendly and loving alternative to your world. We support the local economy. We talk b******s and we talk sense. We can’t be bought off, and we stand in the way of Grossco.

And who planned this action? None other than Capillary Milton, Buttox’s biggest challenger.”

Milton was the wife of the former Mayor, Pill. Pill had been found having sex with farm animals, and had ‘toughed it out.’ Despite Pill’s bestial deeds, he was voted in again after the scandal, as many admired his nerve, liked his voice, and forgave him because Capillary had ‘stood by him,’ but not it would seem, when he was actually at grips with a sheep.

She new about Jellybean’s accusations, and had attempted to have him assassinated long before the plan to burn down his community. It seemed nothing her henchmen did had resulted in Jellybean’s death. He led a charmed life. And anyway, he was a conspiracy theorist by definition, as were all cult leaders, and the local and national press ensured his credibility was zero.

Capillary’s slogan was Change-What Was It? Her appeal was to the older voters who had liked Pill Milton. She was no mean orator herself:

“We are and always have been absolutely committed to change. Our rivals have stolen our policies, our words, our slogans, but they will never steal our hearts and minds. We were committed to your change.

Our enemies talk about digging in, staying resolute and moving forward, and so do we. We declare that their change has to become our change, or they will perish.

When I was a little girl, I vowed to dedicate the rest of my life to standing firm in the face of evil, knowing I could one day use it to my advantage. Illness and challenge. We will not be moved. Change is all there is, it is good, and the Lord knows it is good.

So, I stand here today before you, knowing that change represents all our futures, it has been our past, and it is certainly your present. Pill and I love change.

One day, my daddy, when he wasn’t chasing women, changing his underpants, the sheets on his and my mum’s bed, and his statement to the police, would tell me stories about change.

And do you know what? It made me determined. No sir, if we stand firm, and those in our community who cannot stand, f*** off, we will conquer all.

Let us go forward from this place and back to our homes. We will win once more. WE-ARE-CORRUPT! Let me hear it once again. WE-ARE-CORRUPT! Once more for the Lord. WE-ARE-CORRUPT!”

The leader of the protest march reflected on the amazing hornet’s nest they had stirred up.

“Grossco have bought them all off. And everyone knows. They are allowing us to march to convince some that their voices are still being heard. The irony is that Milton, by declaring she is corrupt has pulled the rug from under all the rest. She will win by making her corruption an issue. They will lose by not shouting loud enough about theirs.

The Chairman of the ruling [NSP] party has told us we will get their full support. None of us know what that means. We don’t know what change, standing firm, staying resolute, digging in, conquering all or being committed to change means either.

What we have now is the clearest possible statement that we go forward to peace and enlightenment, or join Pill, Buttox, Bort, Benigne and the rest of them in the waiting room for Oblivion.”

BUTTOX & PILL-THE DREAM TICKET was the headline, splashed across the best-selling daily the Grosscer that everyone dreaded. 

However what was ‘real’ was the deathbed confession of Buttox, who Pill had grown tired of and decided was expendable:

“The struggle between the ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’ has been going on forever, and is epidemic on this planet. It will be ever thus so long as economic interests, rather than humanitarian interests, run the world-so long as man’s body, and not man’s soul, is man’s highest concern” *

That Pill would be the town’s first woman Mayor, or Buttox would have been the town’s first black Mayor, or even the fact that they were related, was no longer important. The march grew in strength…

JS, February 2008.

* with thanks to Neale Donald Walsch.