Administrative abortions #1

Charles Dickens was a great writer. He wrote the Pickwick Papers, of which it was often said that if in case things came to nuclear head and the West had to save one piece of written art that would define the Occident's contribution to the literary domain, then Pickwick Papers it would be.

The previous sentence's construction would make Dickens stifle in his grave. Can't be injurious to his health no more.

He also wrote an entertaining novel called A Tale of Two Cities, a morally uplifting yarn of how a noble but ultimately stupid man gives up life for the unrequited love of an idiotic hag who doesn't know a good deal when it ups and smacks her in her adam's apple. In the end the poor chap caters to the French's craving of freshly cut meat. Food was a little tight in those days.

Anyway, I can't retell A Tale of Two Cities, so I will entertain you instead by A Tale of Two Seats.

The first one tells the tale of an inflated beurocrat who set himself down on a Western style toilet seat designed to cope with less weightier issues. The poor contraption broke. Showing far-sightedness the Public Works Department decided not to take chances with a burgeoning civil service, and to henceforth cement in all toilets. Think of burying a toilet in a rectangular cement grave, but at the last moment leaving the receptacle open, thereby allowing it to breath, and receive.

The other one relates the sad plight of a District Collector who digusted with what he saw ordered the Public Works Department to re-paint his toilet seat. However, urgent demands on his system made him forget about this directive. He sat. He stuck. The seat then pulled a Mary's little lamb on him, so that when he got up, the seat made sure to go.