Big Su Skronky is perturbed. She recently overheard a new rookie to the Island who, in previous life, had been an 'urban planner'. Said rookie was rather more proud of this than he should have been.
Big Su heard the rookie banging on at some length about modern urban planning, implying that Squat Hole was primitive, with it's lack of congestion controls.
Big Su had joined in the conversation on a rather physical level, ensuring that the rookie was unlikely to make the mistake of disparaging the Hole in that way again.
Big Su didn't realise that now the rookie was denigrating Squat Hole for altogether different reasons, and making sure that there weren't any squats around when he did so. But still, his comments stung.
Big Su knows, of course, that Squat Hole is the finest metropolis on the planet. Best in both entertainment and cuisine on offer, but sometimes other people don't realise that.
Big Su bumps into Julia Skronky and talks to her about it. “Wot dis town needs iz urban plannin.” “Wot?” “Urban plannin. Yu know, traffic manegmen, congeshion control measures.”
Big Su: “One way streets, make people go wur we wunt em.” Julia has no idea what 'traffic management' or 'congestion control measures' are, but isn't about to admit it.
Big Su doesn't know what they mean really either, but she knows what 'making people go where we want them' means. She passes the buck. “Url put yu in churge uv it then. Get Thuggins to elp yu.”
Big Su walks off. Job done. Julia scratches her head. She really should be working in the Parlour right now, but orders are orders. She goes off to find Thuggins.
Julia returns dragging Thuggins Skronky by the ear, and with a big pot of paint. “Roit we ned tu muck wun way streets. Oil suy were, und yu punt arrows.”
Julia spends half an hour training Thuggins how to paint arrows. Finally he seems to have it. More or less. “Nu, git und paint arrow, thur.” She points to the entrance of Other Shite Road.
Julia stands back some hours later looking round in satisfaction at a job well done. There are arrows everywhere, pointing everywhere, but there is a plan behind it.
Julia smile fades however, as she looks round and realises that the squats are taking absolutely no notice of the new one way system whatsoever, just going where they want to go, as they always have.
Julia “Oi! Yu! Yu fooker!” she grabs a nearby squat. “Wur du yu thunk yer goin thun?” “Er down ere tu gym?” “No yer fookin not! luck at arrow!” she points it out. “Yer goin dune thur!”
Julia throws the squat in the desired direction, then looks round. There's a lot of squats, and she's not going to be able to handle all of them herself. This is a job for a dedicated team.
Julia goes off to find the officers of the Skronky Pot Protectors Society. Although technically run by Mildew, manager of the pot, these squats will obey her soon enough.
Time Passes.
Cantankerous Biggs strolls into town. He's had a good productive working day mugging contestants in the jungle, and is now off to see his old friend Scumbelly Perkins to drink some Wanker and have a fight.
Biggs had planned on this at any rate. However, the Hole is heaving with squats, none of them going in the direction they wanted to, and when he tries to turn down Tosspot Lane, his entrance is barred.
Biggs “Oi! Lerrus throo, Im goin dun ere yu dickeads!” “No yer fackin nut!” “Yes I am!” “Nu yer fackin nut! New wun way system innit? Orders of Skronkys! Yer goin thut way!”
Biggs sees a big arrow pointing down Other Shite Road. More importantly he sees the big traffic warden's billy clubs and the shiny S.P.P.S. badges that the other squats are wearing.
Biggs is tempted to use his fists, but knows that getting into trouble with the S.P.P.S., and hence the Skronkys, is a bad idea, so he contents himself with a “Fackin dickeads” and goes where he is told.
Biggs bumps into Halitosis Wilson, who has just nipped out to break into her neighbours to thieve some cider for her kids packed lunch, but is now far from home.
Biggs: “Wot's goin on ere then? They wuddent lerrus doon Tosspot Lane!” “It's fackin new wun way system innit? 'Traffic cuntrul', 'Congustion Manugment. Fack noos why. Fackin chaos.”
Biggs sees a way round. No one seems to be guarding Stench Alley. He can nip down there, hang a left down Piss Up Way and then…but no! The other end of Stench Alley has more S.P.P.S. memebers there.
Biggs has to go right instead, bringing him back onto Shopliftin' Avenue and hence back to the other end of Other Shite Road, which is still one way, but going in the opposite direction. How can this be?
Biggs is carried along by the crowds getting thicker and thicker until it reaches the stream of traffic coming in the other direction, right in the middle of Other Shite Road. Now there is only one way to go. Into the massage parlour.
Julia Skronky is still charging entry, and is delighted with the brisk trade that she's doing. Scores, if not hundreds of squats are all trying to get into the parlour, and out through the back window.
Julia's Massage Parlour front door is bigger than the back window, and more squats are coming in than are leaving. It is absolutely ram packed with squats now. Most of them smoking.
Julia's parlour has thick clouds of smoke billowing out of it. A mutant who had been passing through on the way to Improbable Central sees the clouds of smoke, and jumps to the wrong conclusion.
Julia's parlour must be on fire! He tries to do his civic duty, and, grabbing what looks like a bucket of water off a squat wedged next to him, throws it in the door.
Thuggins Skronky has had his bucket of cider suddenly grabbed out of his hands! He watches in horror as it is thrown in the door of the parlour, and, catching a lit cigarette, starts burning.
Thuggins is incensed at this, and starts to give the mutant a lesson in civic duty that he'll never forget. He certainly won't make that mistake again.
Thuggins lays into the mutant as the fire in the parlour starts to spread. Nearby squats have to choose between joining in the punch up, or escaping the fire. Most of them opt for the punch up.
Thuggins is at the centre of a rapidly growing riot, next to a burning building, in a densely packed street. Congestion management. Squat Hole style.
For more stories from Squat Hole, see here.