|
A light-hearted take-off of the
familiar fairy story about three little pigs and a big bad wolf.
Once upon a time three brothers called Pig
arrived in Britain with an intention of making money. They decided
to build a housing estate on a bit of spare land, so they bought
a few acres cheap and set about developing it. They drew up plans
and decided to build houses in three styles - "natural"
wood, "countryside" straw and "town" brick.
They duly found some jerry builders and began
putting three prototype houses together on different parts of
the estate, working with a little difficulty as they had never
had to work with cheap British builders before.
A few days into the work the Council found
out about this and became particularly annoyed as the Pigs had,
unaware of certain legal obligations, omitted to get planning
permission. Councils move fast when their rights as a council
are infringed, and therefore it was not many minutes before Mr.
B. B. Wolf, their building expert, was sent out to examine the
place, with authorisation to demolish it "on sight",
as it were.
Mr Wolf arrived prompty in a fairly smart
car, got out, and strolled up to the first house. The first Mr
Pig was standing there, proudly examining his new work - a rickety
two-storey wooden house standing in a mud puddle.
Mr Wolf first introduced himself but was irritated
to note that he didn't appear to worry the pig. He then examined
the structure critically. He looked it up and down. He then moved
in, measured it, checked angles, studied the stairs, tried to
close the front door, put his paw through a window, noting the
lack of glass, made notes, looked at the electrics and water
supply, couldn't find either, and finally approached Mr Pig.
"Mr Pig," he said firmly, "your
house is unfit for human habitation, built without planning permission,
and suffers from excessive fire risk."
"Fire risk?" responded Mr Pig angrily.
"It doesn't suffer from fire risk. Safe as a house."
"As this house, yes," replied Mr
Wolf. "I'll perform the standard test".
He got out a box of matches, lit one, and
held it against the front wall. The wall caught fire, the fire
rapidly spread throughout the structure and, with a few crashings,
the house soon burned to the ground.
Mr Wolf returned to his car, got a sign announcing
"Condemned. Unfit for human habitation" out of the
boot, hung it on a charred piece of wood which reached higher
than the rest, and walked off, making further notes about the
late structure. Mr Pig just sat down in a mud puddle and looked
miserable.
After some looking Mr Wolf found the second
building on the estate, with the second Mr Pig on the phone to
the first as he moved a few stalks of straw into better positions
from the top of the ladder and got warned about a mad arsonist
from the Council wandering around the site burning down houses.
After some loud-throat clearing from Mr Wolf the slightly portly
developer lowered himself down the ladder and trotted over.
Mr Wolf introduced himself and was informed
that he didn't need to worry, as he "wouldn't find anything
wrong here," Mr Pig assured him.
Mr Wolf just began his examination. After
discovering that the walls were badly interwoven and bent in
lots of different directions he walked inside. The kitchen consisted
of a fire in the corner next to the wall with no chimney. The
windows sagged. While the first house had been given a floor
of sorts with uneven wooden boards this had straw which had already
slipped into the mud. The water supply came direct through the
roof. There was no electricity.
He strolled out and summarised the house to
Mr Pig as being unfit for human habitation, with excessive fire
risk, no planning permission, and a possibility of it falling
down the next time the wind blew. Both turned briefly to look
at the house, with Mr Pig ready to defend his structure, and
at this point a gust of wind came over a hill and the house blew
down.
Mr Wolf just shrugged and abandoned another
pig to sitting down in a mud puddle while he went off to look
for any further properties.
After some exploration he came across the
third Mr Pig, who was building a wonky chimney badly while talking
on the phone to his colleagues. Upon seeing Mr Wolf he came down
amiably, introduced himself, and proudly took the building expert
around his new showhome. The lights worked, taps came on, the
roof was sealed and the chimney was set up for an electric fire.
Mr Wolf strolled outside and looked thoughtfully
at the house.
"How good are you at moving houses, Mr
Pig?" he enquired lightly.
"Not very," was the response. "Why?"
"I'm afraid," said Mr Wolf slowly,
"that you have made one error with this house, which may
affect its entire future. It does not have planning permission,
and therefore I must advise my colleagues at the council that
it should be knocked down."
Mr Pig, shocked, sat down in the mud.
The following morning the Council demonstrated
its rights, which it must have to prevent lots of pigs from doing
this sort of thing, and the house was demolished. Mr Wolf took
a day off in the country out of the way, and the pigs, denied
the pleasure of lynching him, merely departed to a country where
there is no such thing as planning permission - something which,
with all these new straw houses about, is not good for the country's
government. |
