The annual deliberations of the Standing Finance Committee, where legislators decide how to spend taxpayers’ money, are closed to the public. Though a report is produced each year after the proceedings, it is often redacted. This means that what happens during certain portions of the SFC deliberations is anyone’s guess. Below are reports on a few scenes from the SFC meeting of my imagination.
Call to order
The speaker of the House calls the SFC meeting to order. The premier immediately leaps up on his desk.
“Finally!” he shouts. “No one’s watching! Let the SFC begin! Whooeee!”
He slaps a high five to the opposition leader, who jumps up on his own desk and does the mambo. Backbenchers echo cries of “Whooeeee!”
The speaker bangs her gavel repeatedly.
“Order!” she yells. “Order!”
Members settle down and apologise.
“Thank you,” the speaker says. “In a couple of hours, we’ll hear from a public officer. But for now, let’s get down to the first order of business: Break out the tequila!”
A mariachi band starts playing, and cries of “arriba” ring out as members jump to their feet dancing.
Auditor general
The auditor general nervously enters the HOA. The premier thanks her for coming, and the minister of communications and works asks her, “What is it that you do again?”
“I work to hold the government accountable,” she replies.
“And why do you need funding for that?” the minister asks.
“Well, I don’t mean to complain, but my office has been scaled back over the years, and I noticed that government hired an expensive private consultant to audit the cruise pier project even though my office could have done it for free,” she says. “So by properly funding my office, government could actually save money.”
The minister scratches his head and asks, “Would ministers be able to redact all of your reports at will?”
“I don’t think so. That might defeat the purpose.”
“And what would happen if you didn’t have any funding at all?”
“Well, we wouldn’t be able to hold anybody accountable.”
Sinister giggles erupt around the room.
“Excuse me?” the auditor general whispers.
“Nothing,” the minister replies. “That will be all. Wait, wait — have a tequila shot on your way out. You’re going to need it when you see your new budget!”
NRL Ministry
The permanent secretary of the Ministry of Natural Resources and Labour enters the HOA. The deputy premier asks for an update on the greenhouses.
“Honestly, we’re really struggling with them,” the PS replies. “They’re abandoned and rotting away as we speak.”
“Oh no!” the DP exclaims. “How could this happen?”
“The truth is that we’re out of money.”
“How much have we spent on the project so far?”
“About $5 million.”
“You only got $5 million for this amazing and well-conceived project? Shameful! How can anyone be expected to build greenhouses with $5 million? They’re made of plastic, which is very expensive.”
The MCW minister agrees that the low level of funding is indeed a scandal.
The DP asks, “How does $10 million sound, for this year alone?”
The PS responds, “That sounds great!”
The opposition leader asks if $10 million is enough, and members unanimously agree to double it.
Someone asks where the money will come from, and the premier proposes that it be drawn from some unneeded boondoogle like the East End sewerage project.
“That’s what we did when we needed money for the Tortola Pier Park,” he explains. “And in the meantime, we can levy a tax on farmers to cover future expenses!”
The HOA erupts in cheers over this brilliant plan.
HLSCC
The president of H. Lavity Stoutt Community College enters the HOA. The premier thanks her for coming, and asks why she is wearing a mask.
“Mmmmfff,” she replies.
A backbencher explains that the college is plagued with mould, and she is probably trying to protect her lungs.
“That is terrible!” the premier exclaims. “What hasn’t something been done to deal with this health issue?”
The education and culture minister suggests that money might be an issue, since in recent years the central government hasn’t been paying over the funds it owes the college.
“They’ve even struggled to pay their staff,” he explains. “So mould cleanup, which is very expensive, is probably not in the cards.”
“Mmmmfff! Mmmffff!” the HLSCC president replies enthusiastically.
However, since no one can understand exactly what she’s saying, members decide to put the matter on hold for another year after agreeing that a further delay is in keeping with the government’s overall mould policy.
High Court Registry
The High Court Registrar enters the HOA. The premier thanks her for coming, sighs deeply, and asks why she too is wearing a mask.
“Mmmmmffff,” she replies.
Suddenly, the health and social development minister leaps out of his seat.
“Hey!” he yells, pointing out the window. “Look over there!”
The HCR looks where he pointed, and the HOA members take advantage of the distraction to scramble out a back exit.
Though the registrar waits for several hours, they do not return, and she eventually lets herself out.
Disclaimer: Dateline: Paradise is a column and occasionally contains satirical “news” articles that are entirely fictional.
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