The nightmare after Christmas

This time it was not accusations of child abuse and implied sadistic murders of young children, exacerbated by the meddling of those intent on airing the Island’s linen in the national and international media.

It was, nonetheless, a very public and embarrassing exposure of a failing on the part of the Island’s government to live in the modern world. The citizens of the UK, as in all democratic societies, have long enjoyed the protection of the state should they fall ill or on hard times, face discrimination on religious, gender or racial grounds or find themselves out of work through no fault of their own.

Now the world knows that the Island of Jersey, regarded by many as a wealthy and comfortable offshore tax haven with an enviable standard of living, has no legislation in place to provide for redundancy payments for those who lose their jobs because their employer goes bust. What a sorry state of affairs for an international finance centre, yet hardly surprising.

The Island’s lamentably overdue anti-discrimination law has yet to come into effect and what about equal rights legislation and protection from sexual discrimination? The predicament faced by the loyal former employees of Woolworths is not the kind of revelation that the Island’s workforce wants to hear as the world is poised on the brink of recession and more retail giants and multi-national corporates face liquidation.

Those from within and without – who seek to maximise on any bad publicity that comes our way – have been handed a late Christmas present and this time on a gold plate. The sunny Island of Jersey, made rich by international finance, is not quite the cosy and well-off community that on the surface at least, it appears to be.

I now have another thing to add to the list of annoying things that keep me awake at night.

AFTER a lengthy period of undisturbed sleep – other than being woken by the radio blaring out a cricket match played on the other side of the world, only to discover that this dull, pointless game is no more interesting in the early hours than in broad daylight – my nocturnal slumbers are yet again troubled by the state of the States.

Couple such nagging worries with a tad too much turkey, chestnut stuffing, red onions baked in port, mincemeat crumble and cheese all stacking in the digestive system, and you have a sure-fire recipe for a disturbed night.

It is in those dark, seemingly timeless periods of deprived sleep that an over-active imagination such as mine goes supersonic.

What, I pondered as I waited patiently in the dark for the little firefighters spraying indigestion medicine around my gullet to do their job, can we expect for the rest of the year now that week one of the first month has gone belly up?

With each tick of the bedside clock, hyperbole took over and I envisaged the year ahead. Come February Jersey is plunged into a political crisis when the four-strong Jersey Democratic Association declares UDI in St Helier No 2 District, to form the People’s Republic of St Helier. Public demonstrations ensue as Islanders wake from the apathetic fog that has clouded their judgments for decades, and take to the streets and chemins in mass revolt.

As the crisis grows, the Chief Minister, Terry Le Sueur, resigns and Charlie Chuckle’s Laughter Factory is suspended. Meanwhile, in Sark, there are rumours that the Barclay Brothers are being made an offer they cannot refuse.

March sees the Laughter Factory descend deeper into chaos and vicious in-fighting as Members jockey for the top positions. After numerous in-camera debates and secret ballots, the baby of the House, Deputy Jeremy Maçon emerges as the surprise victor.

The Island’s woes are temporarily forgotten in April when the new chatelaine of Brecqhou is revealed in a 16-page colour spread in a glossy magazine, as former glamour model Katie Price (aka Jordan). Meanwhile, evacuees from the breakaway People’s Republic find temporary refuge in the gargantuan potato shed at Peacock Farm in Trinity.

After failing to convince his ministers to remove GST from Stars Wars Clone Wars Clone Trooper Helmets, Nintendo Wii Video Games and Apple iPods, Deputy Maçon throws his toys out of the pram and resigns. The States is suspended indefinitely as the Crown Officers seek the advice of the British Government.

Liberation Day celebrations are cancelled when the Privy Council invokes long-forgotten Royal powers and imposes a protectorate over the Island. Prime Minister Gordon Brown appoints Lord Mandelson as Lord Protector of the Isle as British troops, fresh from deployment in Iraq, arrive to restore order.

Following the discovery in June of another long-lost Royal edict – this time pertaining to development of land between the Town Church and Elizabeth Castle – the Church of England lays claim to the Waterfront.

In a daring surprise dawn attack in mid-July, the SAS storm the People’s Republic and reclaim the district. Once the barricades have been dismantled – and booby traps made safe – the Constable of St Helier, Simon Crowcroft, tours the area and reinstates residents parking.

By August the crisis is over and Lord Mandelson takes a break from restoring law and order to be Mr Battle in a colourful parade.

However, another annual event is not so blessed. The air display is cancelled when the Anglican Church wins its claim to the title deeds of the Waterfront and the Archbishop of Canterbury imposes a flyover tax. Lord Mandelson announces that an Island-wide general election will take place in November. To restore the Island’s economic fortunes Mont Orgueil and Elizabeth Castle are sold to the Barclay Brothers for an undisclosed sum.

The election process gets an unexpected boost in October when Deputy Maçon’s mum, Nellie, urges the women of Jersey to stand for every seat. They respond to the call and come the day the electorate votes for a women-only States Assembly!

As the Island looks forward to Christmas and a very different new year, Mrs Maçon forms her cabinet before joining Lord Mandelson as guests of Katie Price and her family in Brecqhou.

A flight of fancy brought on by effects of over-indulgence on a vivid imagination or the state of things to come? Only time will tell, but the way things are going nothing surprises me any more.