The story of of Eldo as the Howard Hughes-esque character in his pyjamas and bathrobe (I picture him a kind of Arthur Dent looking character) in his low rent hole in Rushock Bog with one of the walls blown out

”Don’t you think this story in some ways reminds you of Strindberg,” Eldo mused.
“You mean the biting social commentary?” Blue ventured.
“I mean it never seems to end and we have now idea where we are or what is happening,” Eldo laughed.
“Ah,” Blue started. “I’d prefer Sondheim, to be honest, then at least we’d have striking music to entertain us while we wait for something to happen.” He purported.
“Don’t get much theatre out on the farm,” Dave intervened. “But I like this guy Weird Al. Oh, and Seinfeld. Classic!”
“Sure,” Eldo promulgated. “I always preferred apartment intrigue to palace intrigue, anyway. But not Friends, eh? Awful stuff.”
“Yikes, no.” Dave agreed.
“Still,” Blue advanced. “Pointiest nipples in America, and all that.”
Stunned contemplating silence seemed to be the general reaction.
“Eh..” Eldo slowly incremented. “What does that.. even.. mean?”
“Not quite sure..” Blue pondered, finishing in an elucidated tone. “But I read it somewhere and thought it sounded intelligent.”
"Aha," Dave contemplated. "Certainly.."
“Clear..” Eldo concluded, “as mud.”  

Bluebottle wrote:

”Don’t you think this story in some ways reminds you of Strindberg,” Eldo mused.
“You mean the biting social commentary?” Blue ventured.
“I mean it never seems to end and we have now idea where we are or what is happening,” Eldo laughed.
“Ah,” Blue started. “I’d prefer Sondheim, to be honest, then at least we’d have striking music to entertain us while we wait for something to happen.” He purported.
“Don’t get much theatre out on the farm,” Dave intervened. “But I like this guy Weird Al. Oh, and Seinfeld. Classic!”
“Sure,” Eldo promulgated. “I always preferred apartment intrigue to palace intrigue, anyway. But not Friends, eh? Awful stuff.”
“Yikes, no.” Dave agreed.
“Still,” Blue advanced. “Pointiest nipples in America, and all that.”
Stunned contemplating silence seemed to be the general reaction.
“Eh..” Eldo slowly incremented. “What does that.. even.. mean?”
“Not quite sure..” Blue pondered, finishing in an elucidated tone. “But I read it somewhere and thought it sounded intelligent.”
"Aha," Dave contemplated. "Certainly.."
“Clear..” Eldo concluded, “as mud.”  

“You can head up now,” the nearest guard said to them in a confidentially tone.
“What about the rest of the people?” Pointing to the line in front of them.
“Oh, they are Dark Planet,” the guard said looking at his watch. “Their session’s at two. Oh, hello there reverend,” he said to seeing Blue straightening up, nodding. Blue gave him a friendly yet timid, slightly exhausted smile.
They headed up the stairs, elated.

Eldo was so happy he couldn’t help to skip and jump a little, a bit like Tinker Bell he thought, spreading around some magic dust, finally, finally, home.
“Hey, where did you learn those moves?” Blue asked, always a skittish dancer. “That’s some urban stuff, right?” Eldo certainly had a Billy Elliot streak in him, it seemed.
“Certainlee not at a barn dance,” Dave spat, not unfriendly.
“Oh..” Eldo paused. Well, he might have thrown some hip-hop moves in from his dancercise class, he thought, not thinking. “Just something I picked up, I guess” he said, twirling guessing.
“Did not know you were an aficionado of the rhythmic arts,” Dave mused.
Eldo considered, he guessed he’d mostly kept his dancing activities to the privacy of the tower. Great way to keep in shape, relax, unwind after a long-ish day pushing paperwork around his desk.
“Have you ever contemplated the history of modern dance?” Dave ventured. “Isadora Duncan, Maud Allan and Loie Fuller.. all thee greats.”
“I think I tried it once,” Blue offered. “But pulled a muscle.”
“I always preferred the postmodern approach, Merce Cunningham,” Eldo intervened. “Not so formalistic, more free.” He pirouetted.
“Figure you to be a postmodernist..” Dave said shaking his head.
“Oh, only dance-wise,” Eldo corrected.
“And truth-wise?” Blue pondered.
“Oh, truth-wise as well, probably,” Eldo laughed, a little too heartily.
"A writer who says that there are no truths, or that all truth is 'merely relative,' is asking you not to believe him. So don't." Dave said, catatonically. «Roger Scruton.»
«Ah..» Blue and Eldo said. And perhaps they were right.

Bluebottle wrote:What I was doing when I couldn't sleep yesterday. Can't out-topical our new kiwi member though, unless Eldy really has taken up dancersice.  

“You can head up now,” the nearest guard said to them in a confidentially tone.
“What about the rest of the people?” Pointing to the line in front of them.
“Oh, they are Dark Planet,” the guard said looking at his watch. “Their session’s at two. Oh, hello there reverend,” he said to seeing Blue straightening up, nodding. Blue gave him a friendly yet timid, slightly exhausted smile.
They headed up the stairs, elated.

Eldo was so happy he couldn’t help to skip and jump a little, a bit like Tinker Bell he thought, spreading around some magic dust, finally, finally, home.
“Hey, where did you learn those moves?” Blue asked, always a skittish dancer. “That’s some urban stuff, right?” Eldo certainly had a Billy Elliot streak in him, it seemed.
“Certainlee not at a barn dance,” Dave spat, not unfriendly.
“Oh..” Eldo paused. Well, he might have thrown some hip-hop moves in from his dancercise class, he thought, not thinking.  “Just something I picked up, I guess” he said, twirling guessing.
“Did not know you were an aficionado of the rhythmic arts,” Dave mused.
Eldo considered, he guessed he’d mostly kept his dancing activities to the privacy of the tower. Great way to keep in shape, relax, unwind after a long-ish day pushing paperwork around his desk.
“Have you ever contemplated the history of modern dance?” Dave ventured. “Isadora Duncan, Maud Allan and Loie Fuller.. all thee greats.”
“I think I tried it once,” Blue offered. “But pulled a muscle.”
“I always preferred the postmodern approach, Merce Cunningham,” Eldo intervened. “Not so formalistic, more free.” He pirouetted.
“Figure you to be a postmodernist..” Dave said shaking his head.
“Oh, only dance-wise,” Eldo corrected.
“And truth-wise?” Blue pondered.
“Oh, truth-wise as well, probably,” Eldo laughed, a little too heartily.
"A writer who says that there are no truths, or that all truth is 'merely relative,' is asking you not to believe him. So don't." Dave said, catatonically. «Roger Scruton.»
«Ah..» Blue and Eldo said. And perhaps they were right.

They slinked into the audience chamber, all but 5 minutes late, and immediately noticed the pin-drop silence. Literally everyone was there. From Amarië up on the admins’ throne, to Halfwise trying to get his hair under control. Orwell was there, draped over his chair like a lazying cat. Mrs. Figg next to him, looking into nothing. Azriel, giving them a wink. Even Norc. In shackles, mind. (But nice elegant shackles, like you find at certain.. specialist establishment.) They hadn’t had shackles in Eldo’s time. They had had to make due with a heartfelt request to stay in put for the time being. Even Petty had somehow made it there before them, butt end of an unlighted cigarette in his mouth, a stack of papers next to him, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes.

Amarië coughed, somewhat theatrically. “My dears,” she smiled, warmly. “How good of you to join us.” She continued looking at her watch. “Now, proceeding officer,” she said, officially, “shall we get started?”

“Got to go,” Blue whispered as he rushed to the small legal advisor table next to the throne, stacked with papers that he started rummaging through. “Indeed, indeed,” He said distractedly. “Let me.. only… My… I seem to have misplaced my agenda.”

“Never mind,” Amarië trilled, not at all conspiratorially. “We will start, I think, with the renovations.”

“Ah, indeed, the renovations..” Blue trailed off.

“I think you mean New Forumshire, A new and improved Forumshire for a better future.” Amarië smiled. “Or NFNIFBF for short.”

“Indeed,” Blue said. “First to speak… Admin?”

“Indeed,” Amarië smiled, predatorily. “As you all will know, dear subjects, Forumshire has long badly been in need of reform, a new start, a freshen up…”

“A makeover?” Blue proposed.

“Something like that, something like that.” Amarië acknowledged. “So far we have hired a dedicated team to sweep the streets curtesy of Pure publications,” Petty swore inaudibly “introduced a curfew, banned jaywalking and sleeping in fields” damned right, Dave breathed, “closed alcohol serving at a respectable hour, banned inside smoking,” Petty spat “and..” Amarië coughed “introduced certain measures to improve the civility of our language.” She looked at Norc, gleaming. “Haven’t we dear.” Norc swore. “Officer,” Amarië said. “As I told you, show no hesitation to gag her should that happen again. We must learn to keep a civil tounge musn’t we dear,” She smiled at Norc. “Forum-rules, I am afraid. Hands tied.. no pun intended.”

“These are all textbook measures,” she continued unabated, still smiling, “straight out of the rulebooks of the dark planet. I want to than you all for welcoming them with such aplomb.” There was an audible murmur from the room. ”Together we can make each other better, we can improve our common space and together, I am sure, we can make Forumshire.. great again, to borrow a phrase.” She giggled. “Today I am happy to announce to you all that the project is moving to step two. Mr. Bluebottle, please share with us the measures the Adminship has envisaged and enacted by decree for step two in the project.” She said beaming holding out a sheet of paper.

“Thank you Admin,” Blue said holding up the paper like he hadn’t seen it before. “The measures in the second part of the NFNIFBF project are..” he said, reading, to astonished silence.

"The Admins’ Office hereby decrees," Blue started, coughing his voice breaking  little. "Louder, dear," Amarë whispered. "We're not announcing a hearing aid reform." "Indeed," Blue continued, louder "in the light of Eru *cough* cross my heart, scouts honor, the following legal reforms: (1) from midnight Forumshire enters prohibition, all substances of the alcoholic variety is hereby banned in Forumshire; (2) for the health of our citizens and the quality of life of the wildlife smoking is hereby banned in Forumshire; (3) make Forumshire clean – in the next weeks every inch of Forumshire will be cleaned from top to bottom for the grand re-opening of new Forumshire, the citizens are called by law to join the effort, (4) to avoid the constant and increasing level of innuendo, there will be a large-scale refurbishment of Rushock Bog to clear up any unfortunate leakages, and ensure every hole is dry and as squeeky clean as a nuns conscience, (4) slumlord Odo Banks is held in bond for the sum necessary for the refurbishments.. it goes on Admin..” Blue let the long stream of paper roll to the floor.

“Those are the important parts,” Amarië thrilled. “You can read about all the rest tomorrow in Admin’ News. Thank you for that little brainchild, dear,” she smiled at Eldy.

Eldy shrunk inwardly, it had seemed a good idea at the time. Get himself out there, get in with the crowd of big-whig Forumshire publishers. Hobnobbing with the hobnobs. Great industry dinners. Lobster, caviar. As much Breyer's Oreo he could eat. Cigar smoke that had made his eyes water. Eons-old brandy. Buckets of the stuff. Substances.. he forgot. It really was worse than he thought, who could imagine a Forumshire with clean streets and without swearing. The Duck n Muck serving only soft drinks. Fresh clean air free of the whiff of tobacco smoke. The Needlehole Buckfast industry in ruins. Petty’s bottom line would certainly be hit heavily. It might be in the Dark Planet textbook, but still. It was not what he would have done. His management style had been considerably more… hands off. Some would say hands off the wheel at times, but he had grown to like it. Who knew what things people would come up with when left to their devices. What.. joyful things. That was a good way to put it.

“Good, good,” Amarië purred to the catatonic silence. Petty seemed to have collapsed in a heap, Orwell helping him to his feet, getting a good slog of a flask in him. “I thank you all for your support.. as always.” She gleamed. “Let’s move on with our agenda. First petitioner, please, Mr. Bluebottle.” She said from the pulpit, unabated. Smiling again broadly.

Blue resumed rummaging through his papers, “Ah, my apologies, it seems..” he said.

“Oh, not at all,” Amarië said holding out another sheet of paper. “Take mine.”

Blue took it somewhat dubiously. “First petitioner..” he read “ Forest Shepherd, provost, dairy herd management.”

“Indeed,” Amarië smiled broadly. “Step up provost Shepherd. I hear you are here for some issues with an erection.” She leaned over the side of the Admins’ throne.

“No issues, mam,” Forest shuffled somewhat uneasily. “I only want to register it with the authorities, is all.”

“And why has this not been done?” She directed at Blue, who it finally seemed found the relevant paperwork.

“Apparently, Admin, Odo is claiming ownership.” Blue said. “It’s in his..” he said reading from the paper, “backyard... apparently.”

“Aha,” Amarië said deadpan. “That’s all you got? Perhaps you guys at the legal office need to hire some joke writers? Really, be my guest, it couldn’t hurt.”

“From Odo’s mouth to your ear,” Blue protested, holding up the paper. “That is to say.. pen.”

“It’s no willy-nilly erection,” Forest added huffed. “It has dragon carvings and everything.”

“Thank you very much provost Shepherd.” Amariê said, holding the bridge of her nose. “I think we have all the information we need from you. Anyway,” Amarië turned to Blue, deadpan. “We better send someone to survey this erection. Make a note to contact our regular quantity surveyor.”

“Eh..” Blue started, Amarië gave him a look that said what now? “We normally do that in-house.” Blue finished.

“Aha,” Amarië rolled her eyes. “Then you better get to Odo’s backyard and survey Forest’ erection, dragon carvings and all. That is what you want me to say, isn’t it?” She said, looking around a little exasperatedly.

“In writing would be..” Blue started, but was interrupted by a rapid “Moving on!” from Amarië.

“That is it dear provost Shepherd, you can step down now.” Amarië said apologetically to him.

Forest Shepherd shuffled back to the crowd, looking more than a little scandalized. Things were getting back to the normal run of things, Eldy thought. People voicing their concerns, the Admin solving them, or at least listening and putting them in the fi.. filing cabinet, as it were. Or cutting them down to size for all to see, going by the new administration. He had preferred the fireplace, that is to say filing cabinet, but those days were gone. He was looking around for a minimally comfortable seat when Amarië raised her voice again.

“Second petitioner, Mr. Bluebottle,” Amarië said, seeming to smile inwardly.

“Ah, yes..” Blue said, reading. “That would be… Eldorion, esq., also known as Eldy.” He said seeming a little shocked, looking at Amarië and Eldo in turn.

“Indeed,” Amarië gleamed. “But let’s say former admin, to keep up with protocol.”

"Protocol?" Blue asked in a quiet aside.

"Protocol two section four article nine litra f to be exact," Amarië thrilled.

"That would be.." Blue rummaged through his law tomes. "Crime and punishment in Forumshire..?"

"Indeed," Amarië said.

Brilliant, Eldo thought inwardly, really Machiavellian, mixing the extraordinary with the mundane. Thereby muddling them both. After Forest’s erection who would have imagined this was the real reason they all were here today. Here came Amarië’s next play. The Game of Administration, you win or… take a leave of absence. Something like that.

“Now FmA Eldy..” She started “Have you seen today’s special edition?”

“I must admit,” Eldy said a little hesitant, “I have not.” He had paid for one after all, but it was still under his arm. Petty seemed to look around, surprised, calculating, cornered.

“You have not?” Amarië said skeptically. “So, you tell me this is all new to you?” She held up a shiny new special edition of the Notp, where it said with massive letters

FORMER ADMING’ GREAT MARCH – former admin marchies on tower to stop Forumshire reforms – great self-less effort, last ditch to save the Forumshire you know

Eldy didn’t quite know what to say. He hadn’t even known there were reforms going on.. he should have kept up with his papers.

“I must admit,” Amarië giggled. “I found the comparisons to Selma a little tasteless, but a great example of propaganda, I commend you both.”

“What?” Eldy said confused. Petty just spat.

“Now don’t worry,” Amarië thrilled. “I will be lenient. For the time it takes for the transfer of power to settle you will be.. banished.. mildly.. temporarily.. comfortably.. but banished.. This ruling is final. Mark that down Mr. Bluebottle.” Who looked just as shocked as himself, Eldy noted.

“Exile?!” Eldy said, dumbfounded. It sounded kind of cool.. but what about his cabbages.

“Now don’t pout,” Amarië smiled, not unkindly. “It is textbook for any new admin to quash any small rebellions, quickly and firmly. It’s textbook, a first year would know it.” She said moving on, as if she hadn’t turned the all of Forumshire politics on its head with one stroke. “Do not worry, we will make sure your cabbages and other sundry are used to aid of the less fortunate.. and the Admin coffers.” She added in a sidenote to Blue, who dutifully noted it all down.

“Now for your co-conspirators,” Amarië continued. “Dave the farmer, please step up.”

“David, David.” David step up murmuring. “Dave’s my father.”

“I am reliably informed you took part in at least part of the fmA’s political march. For that you will be banished.. temporarily.” Amarië smiled.

“B-b-b-b-b-“ David started, not seeming to comprehend.

“Indeed,” Amarië said. “Now do not worry, we will take care of your farm, and all it’s incomes, while you are away. Consider it for the time being, publicly owned.”

“Publicly owned?!” David gawped, in true American fashion.

“Furthermore, for its rebellious bent, Pure Publication and it’s respective publications is temporarily banned from publication.” That was a mouthful, Eldy thought. Petty swore loudly, for once, Eldy had noticed him restraining himself so far. Eldy had to admit he was a little shocked, the nuclear option of a ban from publication had never occured to him. It didn’t seem altogether.. democratic, was that the word? His idea of subtle counter-speech had however only left him in trouble with countless commissions going over every conceivable event of yesteryear in painstaking detail. Had she got up, brushed her teeth and lit the fire that day five years ago.. she still wasn't sure. “Language, Mr. Tyrant.” Amarië tisked. “Mr. Tyrant, please step forward.” Petty stepped forward, his eyes shooting lightning. “And as the Admin’s tower has not been able to locate any other person prepared to stand as associated with Pure Publication, you are hereby banished as representative and responsible. These rulings are final. Mark that down, Mr. Bluebottle.”

“Finally,” she said, sternly, “Mr. Bluebottle of Bluebottle and Bluebottle and Sons, Bluebottle Cranny 1, Upper Needleholde, for providing legal advice to the political opposition, conspiring with former administrative appointees, and jailbreaking a known and notorious criminal, you are hereby relieved of your post, and.. banished.. temporarily.” To Blue’s astonished look, she said, as much to herself. “They might like some company.” Amariê regained her official tone. “This decision is final. Mr. Bluebottle, before stepping down, please mark that down.” After a pause, Amarië continued, not unkindly. “And don’t worry about your desk, it is currently being incinerated.” That seemed to encourage Blue somewhat, who offered a faint smile.

There was a rustling as Norc got to her feet. “You cannot do this, damn $”#¤%?, ?!€$%/&#.” (censored swearwords) She seemed to speak for a good part of the crowd that murmured inaudible agreements.

“Now, now, manners, young lady.” Amarië tisked. “Guards, take her to the lockholes.”

“The good lockholes or the bad lockholes?” One guard asked.

“Oh, the good,” Amarië said. “I want her to have every comfort. But I do not want to see or hear from her again before she has learned some manners.” And that could be some good time, Eldy imagined. Something about freezing over, came to mind. But better not to swear in the current paradigm.

There it was, Eldy thought, with one fell swoop Amarië had taken all of her major concerns off the board. Now the reforms could move ahead. Not a Dark Planet take-over, but a reform to a Dark Planet en miniscule. Now the reforms would go ahead, with no one left that were likely to put a real spanner in the works, so to say. Figg had been arguing for a clean up for years. Orwell was the “right price”-kind of guy. Halfwise might harrumph over the morning paper, but did not have enough of the social justice warrior bent to actually leave his breakfast table to do something about it. Azriel was normally busy with her frog experiments that she claimed would make great strides for cosmetic sciences.  Winter was coming. Damnation, she thought, perhaps she shouldn’t have stayed up so late watching Game of Thrones last night. It was scary how much could be accomplished by someone who actually aimed to get things done. The curse of an efficient administration, just what she had striven to avoid in all her years in the post. But that was the nature of progress, she guessed. Perhaps she could have stopped it if she had spoken up sooner, there were certainly a lot of resistance in the crowd, but who would dear to speak up when Norc had just been sent away for a few months at least.. It was strange she thought, she thought he no longer cared.