DEMOCRACY - NORWEGIAN BLUE REWRITE

Mr. Fifties enters the shop carrying a Labour Manifesto: Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
Mr. McNoo (the shop owner) does not respond.
Mr. Fifties: Ello - Morag?
Mr. McNoo: What do you mean "Morag?"
Mr. Fifties: I'm sorry, I think I've caught a cold, I wish to make a complaint.
Mr. McNoo: We're closin' now for summer.
Mr. Fifties: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this manifesto what I voted for not two years ago in this very boutique.
Mr. McNoo: Och aye, the Norwegian Blue Manifesto ...What's wrong with it?
Mr. Fifties: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. It’s dead, that's what's wrong with it!
Mr. McNoo: Noo, noo, it’s under review.
Mr. Fifties: Look, McMatey, I know a dead manifesto when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
Mr. McNoo: Noo, noo, it’s not dead, it’s restin'! Remarkable manifesto is the Norwegian Blue … beautiful plumage, talks it’s head off and says nothing of significance … wonderful way with words … eager to jump on the next perk, I mean perch … did I mention beautiful plumage?
Mr. Fifties: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.
Mr. McNoo: Noo noo noo, it’s under review!
Mr. Fifties: All right then, if it’s under review, when are we likely to get the results … don’t tell me, let me guess … 2010 by any chance?
(The owner of shop picks up the manifesto and sweeps away the dust from the title page)
Mr. McNoo: There, it’s as good as new.

Mr. Fifties: No it isn’t, you just cleaned the cover!
Mr. McNoo: I never!!
Mr. Fifties: Yes, you did!
Mr. McNoo: I never did anything...
Mr. Fifties: (yelling and hitting the manifesto repeatedly) 'ELLO DEMOCRACY!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!
(Flicks through the pages and thumps it hard onto the counter, throws it in the air and watches it plummet to the floor).
Mr. Fifties: Now that's what I call a dead manifesto.
Mr. McNoo: Noo, noo, noo, it’s just a reaction to the financially volatile international climate and the seedy excesses of this shop’s previous owner – it’s stunned!
Mr. Fifties: STUNNED?!
Mr. McNoo: Aye! Your inability to counteract the autocratic undemocratic self-serving political shenanigans without being summarily added to a national data-base that will hold your DNA and fingerprints for the rest of your natural life so that we’ll always know where you are, what you’re up to and whether you’re a threat to national security, allowing us to pick you up for questioning and hold you in a cell indefinitely – I think “stunned” is a pretty good description.
Mr. Fifties: Um...now look...now look, McMatey, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That manifesto is definitely deceased, and when I voted for it not two years ago you assured me that “things could only get better.”
Mr. McNoo: Aye, aye I did that … but, and here’s the beauty of the English language … I never said for who … now you can go and stick a red line under that and sod off laddie!
Mr. Fifties: That’s Rubbish!
(At this point the doors of the shop burst open and four overweight thugs with the combined IQ of nineteen grab Mr. Fifties and throw him roughly through the rear doors of a black anti-terrorist van waiting on the double-yellow lines outside)
A muffled voice can be heard as it pulls away….
Mr. Fifties: I’m starting to pine for the Norwegian fjords … I bet they don’t have a Swede governing them … ouch!