Belinda – she of the (still) no car fame – and I were chatting on the way home from work, as we do, and we decided that we would do a much better job of running this country, nay, the whole world, than the incumbent rulers do.
We started off fairly sedately in our revolution of the rule – things like a four-day working week, flexitime for those who choose it, increased pay, more holidays etc, but we decided why stop there.
In our future view of the country, all wine farms would be state owned and it would be essential to spend at least half your day sipping Chardonnay / Sauvignon Blanc in summer and perhaps a nice Pinot Noir in winter. No one would have to cook, ever. Unless of course you wanted to. In which case of course you could do that. (Belinda likes to cook, I hate it)
We, Belinda and I, wouldn’t work. We’d be paid lots for holding this very responsible position, but we wouldn’t actually do any real work. Unless drinking wine is work, we’d be doing a lot of that. Which is actually work if you own a wine farm (which we would) – because you couldn’t be shipping out any old crappy wine, you’d need to taste it to make sure it was ok before you sent it out.
We’d also ban thin, pretty people. They’d have to wear headscarves and eat donuts all the time. In fact fat would be the new thin.
No one would be allowed to drive slowly in our lane. We’d have our own lane. And we’d drive as fast as we wanted.
We’d ban big stupid slow trucks from the road. They’re just irritating and they make stinky smoke. Trucks would only be allowed to be on the road when we weren’t using it.
Unless they were wine trucks. In which case they would be allowed to use the road any time they wanted to.
We’d also form alliances with obscure countries who have lovely beaches. We’d ask them to build a nice beach house for us and we would do president swaps – we’d go stay on their island and they could come stay in our country for a bit. We’d ask that there are no thin pretty people on the beach when we go there. And that there be cocktails. Served by handsome chaps with no shirts on. No wine. When in Rome you need to drink cocktails, or so the saying goes.
We’d have long lunches every day and invite all our girlfriends over. We’d drink wine and have fun.
Afternoon naps would be compulsory. Any one who made a noise during afternoon naptime would be locked in jail and made to press grapes.
We’d be happy, fun rulers. We would insist on having happy, fun people in our country. If people weren’t happy and fun we’d ban them from coming out their houses. We don’t want no sad sack people spoiling our day.
But mostly we’d just sit on the veranda of our wine farm, admiring the view, sipping our wine while we sign important documents and talk on the cell phone to other rulers. We’d send them boxes of wine as gifts and schedule time in each other’s beach houses. They’d love us and want to be our BFF.
Really, I think the world would be a much better place if we ran it.