Seeking A Miscreant

A SYDNEY merchant, some time ago, got an export licence to ship 15 cases of nails to Rabaul, on the Malekula. There was some delay, and the cases missed the Malekula; but the Bulolo was sailing shortly afterwards. So some clerk wrote the name Bulolo alongside the name Malekula on the licence: the nails went forward, and everyone was happy.

The other day the merchant’s offices were invaded by a stern and unbending officer of the Customs Department. He insisted that the miscreant who had altered the precious form be delivered to him, for due and proper admonition.

After the weary merchant had dredged in vain through piles of old papers, the official gave it up, and went off to the wholesale suppliers of nails to ask what they knew about the fiendish crime.

Year by year, Australia becomes more hopelessly entangled in red tape and controls.