Satiricus and his wife were discussing the Budget that everybody – especially Mrs Satiricus – was complaining about. They were in the kitchen where Mrs Satiricus, whose name was actually “Caustic”, was preparing Satiricus’ lunch for him to take to work. He was going to cover the Budget debate in Parliament on behalf of his newspaper.
“I just can’t believe you wouldn’t have the lunch the other reporters get from the people in Parliament,” Caustic said fretfully.
“And I just can’t believe every year I have to tell you the same thing,” complained Satiricus. “When I see those parliamentarians fighting for food, I just lose my appetite!”
“Well I thought with your KFC buddies getting 40 per cent of the Ministries and seats, they would change the food etiquette!” said Mrs Satiricus with a smirk.
“There you go again, with your attacks at the KFC,” grumbled Satiricus. “And don’t think I don’t know you really mean Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat.”
“I have seen those gentlemen eat, you know,” said Caustic. “And I use the term ‘gentlemen’ very loosely!”
“Anyhow, Nagga Man might’ve solved the problem,” said Satiricus. “He raised the Budget for food at every sitting of Parliament from .7 million to .5 million.”
“Why?” Satiricus’ better half wanted to know. “More food to go around?”
“No. Nagga Man demanded the 50 per cent increase should be for better quality food,” confirmed Satiricus. “When you have 27 Ministers out of 33 MP’s on the Government benches now getting new million-dollar monthly salaries, you can’t give them the old kind of food.”
“You mean no more baked chicken, macaroni and fried rice?” Caustic demanded with some heat.
“Naah! Lobsters and prawns!” said Satiricus. “With fettuccini alfredo.”
“And you don’t want to eat some of that?” said Caustic incredulously.
“You bet I do!” exclaimed Satiricus. “But can you imagine the fight for food that’s going to take place now?”
“Worse than hogs feeding at the trough!” grinned Caustic. “Here hus…I’m done with your pigeon peas cook up!”
