Welfare Recipient Targets (1971-1979)

In 1971 it became compulsory for welfare recipients to sew targets onto their clothing so that they could be identified in public at all times. The minister for social services rejected claims that the target invited personal attacks, sidestepping the fact that the government had concurrently increased its funding of archery classes for newly released criminal sociopaths as part of their reintegration into society.

Despite these developments, the number of people claiming welfare tripled by 1973, in part because many families had lost one or more breadwinners to arrow-related injuries. The government, desperate to reduce spending, began promoting the idea that less dependent members of society involved in "crimes against target wearers" should be exempted from legal proceedings. In fact, they were rewarded. For example, points on drunk drivers’ licenses were removed following accidents which produced fatalities within the boundaries of large council estates.

There were also several instances of fully-armed Alvis FV101 Scorpion tanks, with the keys in their ignitions, inexplicably left by the army on the driveways of decent, middle-class citizens who neighboured built-up social housing areas.

The "Infant Liberation Front" Colouring Book

1972 saw the birth of the ILF (Infant Liberation Front), a terrorist organisation for the under-10s. The anarchic underground group was slow to make an impact because many of its younger members had not yet developed the literacy skills required to understand the group's manifesto.

The breakthrough came in 1973 when the ILF published a more accessible colouring book. It outlined the group's aims and depicted recommended acts of terror which could be easily carried out before bedtime. The book was an instant hit and widely distributed in school playgrounds.

The ILF's goal was to create a paedocracy, but not only; it also wanted "the freedom to eradicate all grownups (without having to get their permission first)". To this end the group would go to any lengths. Hordes of children roamed the streets (after they had completed their homework) hunting stray adults, and in 1976 alone 250 grownups disappeared or met their fates.

In 1978 the ILF disbanded when Arthur Grubbe, a 50 year old investigative journalist, infiltrated the group by posing as a 3 year old girl. Grubbe revealed that the ILF was secretly funded by local government who intended to groom sociopaths for positions in the civil service once they reached the age of majority.

Grubbe became something of a celebrity and Arthur was the most popular baby girl name of 1979.

Below, an ILF leaflet. ILF members regularly held dirty protests, especially those under the age of one. They doggedly maintained around-the-clock demonstrations which were only interrupted by feeding time and naps.

You can learn more about infant civil disobedience HERE and HERE and HERE.

Cub Scout "Bob-a-Body" Week (1977)

The annual boy scout Bob-a-Job week was an institution. However, from 1975 the jobs that scouts were expected to undertake moved away from the mundane - the washing of cars, sweeping of leaves and mowing of lawns - and became much more demanding.

Below is a scout leaflet from 1977 which was the first year that Bob-a-Job week officially changed its name.

During Bob-a-Body week, hundreds of cub scouts roamed Scarfolk helping members of the community with their assisted suicide needs. The old, sick and formally shunned most frequently employed the services of the scouts, though the council's Oxygen Resource Board allegedly sent lists of reluctant residents to scout groups in advance, along with illicitly duplicated front door keys and gallon jars of a toxic nerve agent.

Expiration Cards (1970s)

"Have you ever worried about how and when you might pass away? With an Expiration Card you needn't worry ever again..." (From a 1971 Scarfolk information booklet).

As of 1970 all residents of Scarfolk were issued with Expiration Cards. A dedicated council department, run by someone known only as Tod XIII, calculated when each citizen was most likely to become an 'unreasonable imposition' on society, then set an official date and method of demise. Sometimes, the date was brought forward if the citizen's circumstances changed: for example, if a person had become undeservedly depressed or poorly and was unlikely to ever again be gainfully employed by any self-respecting organisation.

Each cardholder was expected to make the relevant preparations according to their allocated death event and to pay for it. Costs were taken directly out of citizens' income along with tax and costs incurred by governmental weekend breaks abroad. Unemployed cardholders had their assets and/or family members seized and auctioned off. 

If a cardholder inconveniently died before their scheduled date and time, their card (and a hefty admin fee) was inherited by the next of kin who could either swap the card with their own - if the death event was preferred - or donate it to Scarfolk's Expiration Charity, which brought together poverty-stricken people to perish in the same event so that they may share costs. Charity expirations often took the form of driving a decommissioned double-decker bus off a pier into the sea while a brass band played. These expirations were televised on SBC TV's 'Beneviolence' programme, particularly if they featured once-popular celebrities who had fallen on hard times.

Note: Personalised Expiration Cards may be available for purchase in the future.

"Mummy's Gone Now" Scarfolk Books, 1978. First day of Spring!

Happy first day of Spring from everyone at Scarfolk Council.

Here's a scan of a book called "Mummy's Gone Now" which advised young, orphaned children about what to do with the bodies of recently deceased family members.

As most children could not afford a funeral, the book suggested burying bodies in the garden, pushing them off a bridge into a river, or donating them to a soup kitchen.

The book also offered advice about how to forage for food in a suburban environment.

'Totalitarian Salads', Scarfolk Books, 1976

'Totalitarian Salads,' published in 1976, sold more copies than any other book that year and was voted Scarfolk's best book by no less than 100% of the public in a mandatory survey.

The success of this publication may be partly due to the fact that all bar one of Scarfolk's bookshops and publishing companies were razed to the ground in semi-mysterious circumstances. In short,'Totalitarian Salads' was the only book commercially available that year.

Additionally, the authors and editors of competing cookery books were found sauteed in a mass shallow grave just outside Scarfolk.
Police food forensics experts put the recovered bodies in a refrigerator overnight before transferring them to an oven for 20-25 minutes and then pouring into individual pots to be garnished with wreathes of flowers.

Despite attempts to monopolise the cookery book market, illegal food pamphlets were distributed by an underground recipe resistance movement. This is the origin of recipes such as
'soufflé uprising,' 'coup soup,'  'putsch punch,' and 'insurgence sausages.'

NHS organ returns (1974)

There have been recent reports about National Health Service plans to sell off patient data (i.e. your personal medical records) to the highest bidding drug and pharmaceutical companies. It's worth remembering that something similar happened when the NHS almost closed down in 1974.

This leaflet was distributed at the time:

Click to enlarge

By Autumn of 1974 the government, which was not prepared for the sheer numbers of returned prostheses and organs, declared a state of medical emergency. Warehouses up and down the country spilled over with artificial legs, arms and buttocks.

"It looked like the piles of confiscated possessions one sees at concentration camps," said one man who was forced to return all his limbs and an ovary he wasn't aware he had.

Mountains of returned livers, kidneys and hearts (and even children who had been born as a result of artificial insemination) spoiled in unrefridgerated conditions and the overwhelmed government had no choice but to return the decaying, by now useless  organs to their owners. However, to make amends they did also send packs of complimentary lemon-fresh hand wipes.

Though thousands died, the government did not consider it to be a failing of the NHS. The fault was squarely aimed at the public who were accused of being unhygienic and told to wash more.

Returned prostheses: Wellcome Library, London.

Falling Disorder (mid-1970s)

In the mid-1970s, Scarfolk was under pressure from the government to investigate a high incidence of suicides and tourist deaths in the region.* In 1974 alone there were 356 cases.

The mayor appointed the council-funded Scarfolk College, which was run by Dr. James Marde, the mayor's "bestest friend in the whole wide world," to help conduct the enquiry.

A trained psychologist, Dr. Marde soon identified a hitherto unknown condition, which he named Falling Disorder. It was this, he insisted, that was responsible for the many inexplicable demises.

According to Marde, Falling Disorder led the sufferer to tie their hands behind their own back and hurl themselves from high places.

The discovery appears to have made a considerable impact because council statistics showed that there were zero official reports of suicides or unlawful deaths in 1975, and the government was appeased. However, there were approximately 360 new cases of terminal Falling Disorder.


*For a related post go here to learn about 'Scarfolk Drop'.

The Scarfolk Towers Murders - Comic Book Adaptation (1977)

Some of you may recall the spate of murders at Scarfolk council's social housing flagship, Scarfolk Towers (it was touched upon in Scarfolk's tourist literature. See here for more information).

In 1977 there was a comic-book adaptation of the murders which served not only to lure tourists to Scarfolk but also entered the curriculum of the Business & Sociopathy Diploma course at Scarfolk Technical College. 'The Scarfolk Towers Expirations' comic became a seminal work and inspired many of Scarfolk's most successful entrepreneurs, bankers and politicians.

When one of the 'Scarfolk Towers' killers, three-year old Trevor Smite, was finally apprehended, he was presented with a 'Businesschild of the Year' award and offered 23.5% of any revenue generated by his homicidal spree, the highest payout to date for a sociopath under the age of ten (see here for the poster warning residents about dangerous children).

Trevor became a household name and hosted his own quiz panel show, 'Capitalism Punishment', on BBC Radio Scarfolk. The show penalised contestants for inadvertently introducing ethical or moral considerations into hypothetical, potentially lucrative business propositions.

More pages from 'The Scarfolk Towers Expirations' may be posted in the future.

To enlarge/zoom right-click and 'open in new page/tab'

"Scarfolk Drop" Tourism poster. 1970

Decades before 'assisted suicide' was offered by organisations such as Switzerland's Dignitas, Scarfolk Council had its own kind of 'suicide tourism.'

The mayor and his councillors were always torn between the economic benefits of the tourist industry and not particularly liking outsiders. To balance the dichotomy, advertising man and stand-up arsonist Taylor Church suggested that the tourism board considerably exaggerate how exciting Scarfolk's tourist attractions were and then advertise them to depressives, the terminally ill, etc.

The plan was to raise the hopes of despairing tourists, so that when they arrived at an attraction it was an extreme disappointment - just the nudge they needed to 'take a plunge into the ocean'.

Cleverly, Church also recommended that tourists be guided through gift-shops before visiting the attractions, before disillusionment took too strong a hold.  

After the tourist season ended, Scarfolk children would comb the beaches for washed-up snow globes, key-rings, tea towels and other items which were then resold in the shop.

1970s greetings cards

On the subject on stationers (see previous post), here's a greetings card sold during the mid-70s. This one was recently found behind a radiator in the Scarfolk police department of homicide and light entertainment.

Back in 1976 James Sprout was found dead in a Scarfolk canal. He was in a sack weighed down by his favourite toys (Action Man 'plague doctor', Fisher-Price 'death row' and concrete Play-doh)

A murder investigation was soon underway but the police ultimately found no evidence of foul play. They concluded that James had somehow inflicted upon himself a severe head injury from behind then, delirious, climbed into the sack. A forensics expert postulated that while James snoozed, the sack was then dragged four miles by either a vast litter of feral kittens, or the ghosts of unvaccinated foreigners, to the canal bridge where James fell to his watery grave.

When James' grief-stricken parents learned of their son's tragic fate they entered a lengthy period of mourning, consoling themselves by opening a beach-front bar in Barbados where they moved the day after James' funeral.