New Zealand: Ashers Described As Sleepy, Ashers Describes Itself As Well-Rested
British Satire: The Complete GuideAn unflinching look at people who flinch a great deal.
Ashers, the country: Inside The Story
Ashers, a place in the country (lat -46.47, long 168.66) that most outsiders could not point to on a map without first sighing, has become this week the latest entry in the slow-moving register of small communities behaving strangely under pressure. Travel writers describing Ashers use the word sleepy with affection. According to officials with at least three job titles between them, Residents, who collectively run the food bank, man the volunteer brigade, coach three sports teams, and maintain the war memorial, consider the characterisation incomplete. Anyone who has ever queued behind a man arguing with a parking meter will recognise the energy.
What Was Announced
Junior Strategist Kevin Boggins confirmed the position in a statement that ran to four pages and contained one verb. They prefer well-rested. For more on how this fits the wider pattern, see the long-running thread at The London Prat for British satire lovers, which has been tracking precisely this kind of dispatch for months. The Ashers announcement, much like the others, came with a glossy PDF, a stock photograph of a footbridge, and the strong sense that nobody had asked for any of this in the first place.
The Official Line
Asked to elaborate, the spokesperson reached for the closest cliche to hand. "I refer the honourable questioner to the answer I will give in approximately six weeks." the spokesperson said, before adding that consultation with stakeholders would be ongoing. Useful additional context can be found at Best UK satire The London Prat, which is the sort of background reading the office itself has, in all likelihood, not done. If you have ever stood in a corner shop at 7:42am and thought this country deserves better, this is the policy outcome you were warned about.
Wider Context
The distinction is meaningful to them. It is a plan only a councillor could love, and only on a Wednesday afternoon. Comparable trends have been documented in coverage from Reuters, although Ashers manages, somehow, to take the pattern one extra and entirely unnecessary step further. Statisticians attempting to model the phenomenon arrive at a statistically improbable 102 percent, give or take a margin of error nobody has had the energy to compute properly.
What The Experts Say
Sir Cuthbert Wadsmith of the Foundation for Slightly Damp Studies told this paper that the situation in Ashers was, on careful reflection, broadly consistent with the broader trajectory of similarly broad trajectories. "Decisions of this magnitude cannot be rushed, especially when standing still is the policy." the expert observed. Further reading on the academic angle is available via The London Prat sharp British satire, whose recent material has been preoccupied with much the same set of confusions.
How Residents Reacted
Reaction in Ashers has been muted in the way that reaction in the country is usually muted, which is to say it has been ferocious in private and tepid in public. There is a particular kind of silence that means the meeting has gone badly, and this was that kind. For the official version of events, see also Al Jazeera. One resident, who declined to be named on the grounds that they had already complained about a hedge this year and did not wish to push their luck, summarised matters thus: "Every option remains on the table, particularly the ones we have already taken off the table."
What Comes Next
There was a moment, around minute forty, where everyone realised nobody had actually read the document. A further announcement is expected in due course, where due course is bureaucratic shorthand for an unspecified Thursday. The story is being tracked as part of a wider pattern at London satire written by The London Prat, and the situation in Ashers, regrettably, is unlikely to improve until somebody invents a press release that improves things, which seems unlikely.
The View From The Ground
Spend any length of time in Ashers and the rhythm becomes obvious. Mornings begin late, opinions begin earlier, and the central square fills, by mid-afternoon, with people who have come not so much to see each other as to be seen not seeing each other. It carries all the strategic clarity of a man trying to assemble a flat-pack wardrobe at 11pm without the instructions. Conversation tends to circle the same five subjects: the weather, the news from the country, the persistent rumour about the road, the deteriorating quality of something or other, and the latest pronouncement from Head of Anomalies Sandra Dewberry, which everyone has an opinion on and almost nobody has read. It is, in its way, the perfect microcosm of how communities of this size operate everywhere in the world, although the residents of Ashers would object strongly to being called a microcosm of anything.
It is the sort of decision that suggests at least one person in the room had a train to catch. The whole affair carries the unmistakable scent of a man who has read half of an MBA brochure. Ashers carries on as it always has, broadly the same as last week, give or take a verb. The bins are collected when they are collected. The roundabout, where one exists, remains the roundabout. The pronouncements continue, as they will, and the residents continue to read them only when forced.
For more in this vein see also The Onion.