Chapter 11

Blue and pink cartoon baby bunnies frolicked, laughing, rolling, in the bright yellow sun. Their wise grey parents watched over them benignly. Suddenly, a passing black cloud blocked out the sun. The parent bunnies stopped and looked up at the sky, worried. Their cute button noses quivered with alarm. A siren wailed thinly. Parent bunnies quickly shooed their baby bunnies down the bunny hole and dived in after them. They slammed their stout little wooden door shut and bolted it firmly. A shaggy, cruel grey wolf peeped over the hedge where, only seconds before, baby bunnies had played. The wolf scowled evilly and growled, 'Bah! Missed again!'.

A jovial, dark suited human with monolithic silver hair appeared standing in a comfortable, book-lined study. 'Civil defense is an important part of our national defense strategy,' she said, smiling. 'In the highly unlikely event of enemy attack or of natural disaster, you will hear this warning sound.' A wailing siren was heard. 'Immediately tune into a national radio or television station and listen for information and instructions.'

The scene cut to a cartoon office. A sombre, lion businessman heard the siren and immediately turned on a radio. 'If you are inside, take cover away from windows.' A zebra businesswoman sidled away from her office windows. 'Do not use lifts. Turn off all gas and electrical appliances.' A serious looking mother cat turned off her cooker. 'Shelter under a sturdy table, desk or bed. Cover your head with your arms.' The mother pig helped smiling piglets crawl under a bed. She cradled their heads with her trotters and smiled lovingly at them.

'If you are outside, move away from buildings, walls, trees and overhead lines.' A timid doe and her fawn scampered away from tall trees and looming electrical power pylons. 'Lie face down in the lowest spot you can find. Cover your head with your arms. Do not get up until danger is past.' Two robust little dog boys lay side-by-side in a ditch with their paws wrapped around the backs of their heads.

'If you are in a car, stop as soon as it is safe to do so.' An elderly badger couple pulled their toy car off the road and rolled into an open field. 'Park your car away from trees, buildings and overhead lines. Turn off the engine and set on the parking brake. Tune into a national radio station and wait for instructions. Stay inside your car.' The granny badger turned on the radio and took out her knitting.

'Be prepared for emergency at all times. Keep a first aid kit and learn how to use it.' A hen with glasses inspected a first aid kit carefully. 'Learn how to turn off the gas, water and electricity in your home. Always keep a torch and a battery powered radio near to hand. Discuss beforehand what you would do in an emergency.' A racoon family sat around their TV set, talking seriously. 'If you have time, prepare your home for emergency.' A ducky mummy smoothed masking tape over the windows of her tidy little sitting room.

The smiling announcer reappeared. 'And in an emergency, always remember. Stay calm. Stay where you are. Immediately tune your radio or television to a national broadcasting station for information and instructions. Follow those instructions carefully. Use your telephones only in the case of extreme emergency. Be prepared ahead of time. And, above all, do not panic.'

The safe bunny family sat snug and cosy next to their bright roaring fire. Baby bunnies played happily with their toys. Father Bunny winked wisely to Mother Bunny over a steaming cup of tea. She gave him a giant, liquid wink in reply. The happy scene faded quickly into a pink haze.

Lizzie snapped off the television set and turned in her chair to face me. 'For Christ's sake, Dick,' she demanded angrily, 'Now just what in the hell was that bloody thing supposed to be about?'

'Well, love,' I replied blandly, 'We're, uh, trying to gradually increase public awareness about emergency procedures. In a low key sort of way, of course.'

'Well, that's just about the most ridiculous thing I think I've ever seen,' sneered Lizzie. 'It's even more brainless than the average soap powder advert. Is this what you've been spending all your time in London for, Dick?'

'Well, the campaign's supposed to be rather low key, Lizzie,' I said.

She goggled. 'Low key? It's totally submerged. Absolute crap.' She gave a big stage wink at me and laughed raucously.

'Look, Lizzie, you don't really want the public frothing at the mouth with fear, do you?' I asked. I really was getting a bit cross with her.

'Fear?' she laughed. 'They'll think that emergency procedures only apply to bunny rabbits in Toy Town, after that stupid old load of cobblers.'

'Well, personally, I thought it was pretty effective, Lizzie,' I huffed. 'It worked for me.'

'Well,' mimicked Lizzie, 'I think you must have thought that little gem up personally, Dick.'

'Well, it so happens that I did, rather, Lizzie,' I huffed. 'So shut up about it. All right?' She might even have been right. The campaign had been pretty sotto voce, even if it had cost a packet. And the Minister had liked it a lot.

'Ohhh, nasty, big wolf,' cooed Lizzie. She clicked her tongue. 'Issums feelings hurt?'

'Look, dammit,' I said sulkily. 'That advert was damn sight better than doing nothing at all.'

'So why don't you put something on that'll mean something to people?' asked Lizzie. 'Stand up and tell them the real score for a change, instead of soft soaping them to death.'

'That's a good deal easier said than done,' I replied.

'Why?' demanded Lizzie. 'Just tell me one good reason, Dick.'

'I'll tell you two good reasons, Lizzie,' I said. I held up a finger. 'One: Prime.' I held up another finger. 'Two: Minister.'

Lizzie flipped up two fingers in a V sign. 'Oh, so She's in the way, as usual,' she sighed. 'So why don't you great big brave brutes just march right up to her boldly and say, "Look here, Madam Prime Minister, the earth is in heap big trouble. Someone has got to do something about it!"?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Crumbs, that's about all you know about the way things get done in the real world,' I said. 'This isn't the PTA or the Commons Room, for Christ's sake,' I added nastily.

Lizzie ignored the jibe. 'Well, why the hell not?' she asked. 'She's just a human being, like everyone else, isn't she? She can't be a lot worse than the Head.'

'If you'd met her you wouldn't be as sure as all that,' I replied. 'She's more of an institution than a human being by now.'

'Oh, Christ, Dick,' she said. 'Here we are with the wind just about blowing down everything in sight. Squashing people left, right and centre. And no one in Whitehall has the guts to tell a mummified little old woman that the voters need to be told more than not to stand under trees when the wind blows? Are you pulling my leg, Dick?'

'Look, Lizzie,' I said, exasperated, 'We've tried, again and again and again. Her flunkies all get in the way of anyone who wants to talk some sense to her. Our only conduit to her is the Minister. God only knows what he tells her.

'So ginger that old puff up a bit more,' suggested Lizzie. 'Wind him up. Get his ancient bowels in an uproar.'

'We've tried everything, Lizzie, but the Minister just doesn't seem to get worked up about anything,' I said helplessly.

'God,' she said with a shrug, 'You call yourselves men? Give me a women any time, they know exactly what to do.' She waggled her tongue suggestively. I was shocked to see her do that, she was normally so prim.

'Lizzie, that advert was a breakthrough, believe me,' I protested.

'A breakthrough in spinelessness,' sneered Lizzie. 'Limp dicks all round, eh, matie?' She slowly crooked her finger and giggled.

'It could happen to anyone'. I got up. 'I'm going to bed, Lizzie,' I snapped. 'Please turn off the lights when you come up.'

* * *

OK, OK. So we were spineless. Yes, we were all spineless. You just don't know what it was like there in Whitehall. It was a jungle.

Gosh, I suppose you're right, Lizzie, our readers probably won't know what a jungle was. Well, a jungle was a sort of hot, wet place where a lot of trees grew. Big trees, very green, full of animals. Very competitive, biologically but very diverse. Anyway, if you got out of place in our jungle, Whitehall, you were out on your arse, quick as a wink. Then you couldn't do anything ever again. Remember what happened to me when I didn't read the signals properly the first time? The amazing thing was that I ever got asked back. At least as long as you were there in that jungle, there was a hope, be it ever so faint, of doing something. If you weren't there, there was no hope of doing anything at all. And you can't say, Lizzie, that it would have all been different if women had been in charge. Women were in charge. So maybe we acted like a pack of old women, too, Lizzie. Do you really think you'd have done any better? Well, I don't think so.

Look, all the politicos, fatuous shits that they were, really wanted was some reasonable proof - they just had to be human. Just some good old solid scientific evidence that the environment really was coming unglued on us and that all the experts agreed on it. Then they probably would have acted. All right, maybe they might have or to some degree at least. I mean they weren't total idiots, contrary to appearances. But we scientists couldn't give them that proof. We just didn't have it. We couldn't even agree among ourselves categorically that there was a problem. And we didn't even have the balls to make up a really good lie to tell them. When the proof came, it was already too late to do anything effective. Maybe we couldn't have done anything effective, anyway. Maybe the PM was right to try to keep it all nice and quiet. Maybe it was best that the flock strolled calmly to slaughter, rather than bolting towards slaughter with their eyes rolling with terror. Maybe, maybe, maybe. And what good would it all have done, dear reader? Would it have made any real difference if they'd known? Oh shit, I don't know. You tell me.