The scene: Middle Earth. Saruman and his servant Wormtongue stand high aloft the tower of Isengard, looking out at vast army of orcs that reaches as far as the eye can see. Saruman sighs happily and turns to Wormtongue.
S: Ah, Wormtongue, is not my army of fighting uruk-hai truly magnificent?”
W: Absolutely, my lord. It’s just—
S: And are they poised to be unleashed upon our unsuspecting enemies cowering in Helm’s Deep?
W: Oh, no question of that, your evilness. Poised, certainly. Unleashed, oh yes, definitely. Though I should perhaps mention—
S: And are the towers and ladders made ready for the siege?
W: Well, you see, about that—
S: I’m sorry, is there a problem?
Dunbeath Harbour
W: Well, your dirty beardedness, you know you made me your health and safety adviser when I lost my job in Rohan?
S: This isn’t another of your misguided attempts at humour, is it? As in, ‘It’s elf and safety gone mad’?
W (hastily hiding behind his back a copy of 100 Merry Jests for Tickling the Fancy of Evil Tyrants): Ahaha, good lord, no, perish the thought. It’s just that the Deeping Wall at Helm’s Deep is twenty feet high.
S: And?
W: Well, you see, everyone’s got to finish their Working at Height training, and we’ve only got a dozen iPads to go round. And then there’s the question of risk assessments.
S: Risk assessments?
W: Oh yes, well, every orc going up those ladders has got to do one for slips, trips and falls.
S (sarcastically): What about having your head cut off when you’re at the top?
W: Technically a workplace injury, your despicableness.
S: You mean they could sue me for being decapitated?
W: Well, we’re already facing a lawsuit for bullying and harassment. Apparently calling your employees terms like “filth”, “scum” and “maggot” is no longer acceptable.
S: Bloody ingrates. What about the staff incentive scheme we introduced?
Lenticular clouds at Achavanich
W: Quite a few are opting out now they’ve discovered it means we whip them to make them run faster.
S: (gloomily): I miss the old days. Seems like the only thing you can take an axe to now is a tree.
W: (coughs anxiously): Ah now, MEEPA have raised an objection.
S: MEEPA?
W: Middle Earth Environment Protection Agency, your moral turpitudishness. I mean, we’re probably not going to meet our carbon emissions targets at this rate.
S (bitterly): Anything else?
W: Um, let’s see… The king’s counsellors you suborned with gold have been arrested under the Bribery Act (3010, Third Age). The people of the Westfold that you enslaved are bringing an action under anti-slavery legislation. Other than that, I think we’re good. Oh, and there is one bit of good news.
Water flowing to the sea, Dunnet Beach
S: Well?
W: All your orcs are wearing armour, so technically we’re compliant for personal protective equipment. Though speaking of workplace harassment, I, er, was wondering if you could stop calling me Wormtongue. My name is Desmond, after all.
S: Hmm, tell me, Desmond, have you done a risk assessment for standing up here on this tower with me?
W: Funnily enough, no—aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh….
S (now alone, musingly): You know, I think he was right the first time: it really is elf and safety gone mad…
Impressive progress. You can almost see the tiny figures standing on the parapets. The other side of course has Elfin Safety.
Hi Tamar, I discovered years ago that the secret to knitting a gansey is to just take it a row at a time, and not worry that you don’t seem to be making any progress day by day – but then you’re surprised each week by how much it’s grown!