Illegal Public Displays of Emotion (1970s Public Information)

In Scarfolk, public displays of emotion were governed by draconian laws. Negative or even ambiguous feelings (such as curiosity and hesitation) were deemed seditious and on-the-spot fines and punishments were often meted out by police (and by the Council Christmas Boy during the season of good will).

Distress (see poster above), a broad term which included "psychological breakdown", "suffering personal injury or attack" and "tutting in a queue at the post office", was considered to be a criticism of the state and therefore treasonous.

The only emotional expression truly free of censure was, according to government guidelines, "an abiding, unmistakable demonstration of pride in Our Joyous State (even if that demonstration requires the forfeiture of one's pride - and/or physical body - for the sake of Our Joyous State)". By 1979, feelings such as scepticism and doubt had been declared acts of terrorism.

These laws permitted police to cast a wide net in their investigations and arrests. Even if citizens did manage to pass the stringent, invasive contentment examinations they were still eligible for arrest if their pets exhibited negative emotions. Records show that many people were detained because of their sulky dogs and there was even one case of an arrest due to a livid tortoise.

See also The Anti-Weeping Campaign, which was aimed at children.

Police Interrogation Safewords

Almost everybody endured police interrogations at some point during the 1970s. They were so frequent that most families had a packed bag by the front door (people were expected to bring a spare change of underwear and their own first-aid supplies).

If by chance all members of a family were summoned together, they might make a day of it, have a picnic in the prison facility's Garden of Incorruptibility and watch the interrogation of their loved ones on big monitors. Laugh tracks were included to minimise distress.

While the security services were openly proud of their slogans such as "we promise to raise a glass to those who don't confess", if a detainee did suffer irreversible psychological or physical damage as a result of their interrogation, the family was awarded a £5 book token and a potted cactus as compensation.

More about Scarfolk Security Services.

"Management Psychology" (Klofracs Books, 1972)

 

In the 1970s, big business concerned itself exclusively with getting results, irrespective of negative effects on employees. Some Scarfolk companies were so successful that the state's secret service turned to them for advice on how to get more productive results when interrogating dangerous terrorists.

In 1972, under the guidance of management staff from a Scarfolk pickle factory, imprisoned terrorists saw their holidays reduced to 25 days per annum, lunch breaks reduced to 30 minutes, and per diem expenses decreased from 5 pounds to 3 pounds. They had to participate in regular trust and team-building exercises, such as group games, sing-a-longs, waterboarding, sensory deprivation and, as the book indicates, mock execution - all the techniques that had made British business profitable, at home and abroad.

But when interrogations were further reduced to 3 days per week and some detainees were even made redundant, many terrorists said enough was enough and went out on strike. They refused to engage in any interrogations until a full 5-day week, as well as tea breaks and afternoon naps were reinstated.

"We Watch You While You Sleep" TV signal intrusion 1975

Below is a rare video from the Scarfolk archives.

In 1975 there was a series of anonymous signal intrusions on the Scarfnada TV network. Many believed that the council itself was directly responsible for the illegal broadcasts, though this was never confirmed.

However, in 1976 a BBC TV documentary revealed that the council had surreptitiously introduced tranquillisers to the water supply and employed council mediums to sing lullabies outside the bedroom windows of suspect citizens.

Once a suspect had fallen asleep, the medium would break into their bedroom and secrete themselves in a wardrobe or beneath the bed. From these vantage points the medium could record the suspect's dreams and nocturnal mumblings into a specially designed device called a 'Night Mary', named after the woman who invented it.

The data would then be assessed by a local judge who could meter out the appropriate punishments. Many subconscious criminals were caught this way and the numbers of dream crimes plummeted. Literally overnight.

In addition to the video below, a poster, which can be viewed here, accompanied the scheme.

The "Rem-Exec 1" remote execution system

In the 1970s children were encouraged to take part in and experience all areas of civic life. In addition to compulsory youth clubs, which taught children surveillance skills and how to use them on neighbours and family members, older children were expected to take part in judicial proceedings.

Once a judge had sentenced a criminal in one of Scarfolk's many impromptu mobile courts, local children were expected to help carry out the sentence. They might assist by testing a noose's integrity, filling a hypodermic needle for a lethal injection or polishing the instruments of a masked council 'punisher.' Child executioners were chosen from school reports, much like jury duty.

Later in the decade, parents complained that such activities were too time consuming and got in the way of more important activities such as watching television, which is why Microharsh, a budding computer company, invented the REM-EXEC 1 (The Remote Executioner), a computer system that enabled children to carry out a death penalty from the comfort of their own homes.

The REM-EXEC 1 became so popular that children even began coding their own basic punishment programmes. One well-known one called 'Insert: Explosive Suppository Frog' made 10 year old Stephen Steel a household name.

"We Won't Forget. So You Can't" (1973)

Illicitly and unconstitutionally spying on a whole nation requires an enormous amount of taxpayers' money. That is why, in 1973, Scarfolk started a scheme to sell surveillance data to the public, the actual object of the aforementioned spying.

By 1970, Scarfolk Council had bugged every room, every street, every public and private space. Even forests, beaches and bouncy castles were wiretapped. Every moment of every resident's life was recorded and archived in vast bunkers in the mountains of Snowdonia and abroad.

All this information was subcontracted to a consortium of corporations called RIMPS that used the data to exploit citizens' psychological weaknesses and/or blackmail them into acts of personal depravity for entertainment. These acts were televised and had viewing figures of millions per broadcast. Many people became household names as shame and celebrity became synonymous.

"Let's Learn About...Torture" 1976

This textbook was taught in Scarfolk schools in 1976. Here's an excerpt from the introduction:

"Experts agree that information and its communication will be very important in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Information will become a commodity, sold only to the highest bidders, so it is crucial that students learn how to acquire information as quickly as possible if they want to survive.

Some information can be found in library books, but oftentimes, the most valuable information is buried inside another person's mind. It is up to pupils to mine that information, much like a prospector searches for coal. Sometimes he will use dynamite, other times a powerful drill is more appropriate. There are many ways that a person's mind may be mined.

Here are just a few techniques that you can try on your classmates:

--Scream at them in a high-pitched, helium-inhaled voice without pause for 47 hours.

--Beat the soles of their feet with an effigy of Jesus made out of frozen, compacted ladybirds.

--Pass a pair of stockings dipped in marmalade through their entire body from anus to mouth and then refuse to let them win a game of Monopoly.

--Bake them at gas mark 4 (350 degrees F) for 45 minutes or until the top becomes a rich, golden brown.

--Staple or glue them to a panicking, claustrophobic ostrich..."