The Most Feminist Government in History, Chapter 2 – by H. P. Baxxter

Leopold Bloom gulped his tea and brushed a few stray cornflake crumbs off the paper. He took in the titles of the day, with a barely audible sigh.

Every day it was the same:

Magnificent Government Rules Over A Happy People.

Superb Government Performance Makes The People Happy

He scanned down the page, his sad, bloodshot eyes skimming over the syrupy words and fawning news script.

Then he stopped. This was news indeed. The country had slipped to 99th place in the gender rankings.

He groaned. He knew all too well what it meant. The government would introduce yet more Most Feminist measures. The latest was just a week old. The government had banned all objects resembling a phallus.

It didn’t really concern him, since he never had sausages for breakfast. But it meant that umbrellas were now required to be permanently unfurled.

***

The morning commute had left him drained. With deodorant banned (for misogynist advertising), the stench from unwashed (and unshaven) armpits was nauseating.

Leopold looked at the office door in Merchants Street. The bronze knockers had been removed (that was more than 18 months ago), replaced by a moulding of two transexual pudenda. As he tried to squeeze past his office mates, now renamed “office partners”, he almost got poked in the eye by an umbrella. Another day, another struggle.

When he reached his desk, he saw a brown envelope lying across the keyboard, and his heart sank. More Gender Equality Directives, no doubt.

Then he noticed his was the only desk with a brown envelope, and the bile rose in his throat. He gingerly opened the flap and pulled out the A4 printed sheet inside.

“To Mx Bloom”, it read (gender-specific titles had been banned), “Your services are no longer required. You are to report to the Chairperson’s office.”

With knees like jelly, he timidly knocked (the verb had been renamed “in vitroed” on the door.

***

The Chairperson wasn’t one for courtesy. She had taken up the post a little more than eighteen months ago, and was every bit as fierce as she looked.

“You have been made redundant, Bloom”, she said.

Choking back the tears of despair, he asked hoarsely, “Does it mean I’m fired? But why?”

“Because the country is down in the gender rankings. As you know, and as I explained in my very first circular, every company is required to have an equal number of men and women if heterosexual, or an equal amount of gay men, lesbian women, gay or lesbian transgender men or women if not, or an equal number of gay, lesbian, transexual, bisexual, queer and intersex provided the proportion of straight men to lesbian women divided by the ratio of transgender to queer does not exceed 50% of the total number of bisexual men, provided the proportion of both is equal to the total number of employees divided by the number of lesbian transgender women. I thought that was clear enough.

You are male, Bloom, and straight. Your presence here violates the law and lowers the country’s rankings. You may ask the secretary for a brown paper bag. Keep the desk calendar.”

Leopold Bloom was almost in tears as he walked turned the corner with South Street. What would he tell his wife? And how would they live? How could he, a straight male, ever find a job?

It had started raining. He looked up at the new parliament building as his eyes welled up. Up on the scaffolding, the workmen – now renamed workpersons – toiled on.

Down below, a woman in red stiletto heels and black sheer tights with a seam up the back sashayed past. One of the workpersons smiled.

A shot rang out, and the workperson tumbled down from the scaffold and lay in a spreading pool of blood. It was the government snipers perched on the roof of the flats opposite.

Leopold Bloom lowered his gaze and hurried along, wiping his tears.