Wednesday, 2 September 2009

Fluedo: The Sneezy Pig Flu Board Game

In what critics are terming the most stupid idea to be announced since their last stupid idea was announced, the Ministry of Scaremongering, in conjunction with the NHS, have had a team of monkeys working around the clock to come up with a corporate teaching strategy to educate managers and staff on the possible ramifications of the Oinkyitis swine flu pandemic devastating their entire workforces.

And the answer is : FLUEDO - the Porcinella H1N1 flu pandemic board game for all the corporate family.

When the Sneezy Pig swine flu virus first struck Britain the Government responded with helplines, distribution points for Scamiflu anti-viral drugs and a promise of a nasty untested toxic Grunt-Gone vaccine by Christmas.

However one early casualty was Mrs Freda Gullible from Twatford-on-the-Wold who was struck down by an anxiety attack then fretted, sickened and died within 12 hours of reading a Novartis health warning about the imminent Biblical plague proportions of the Oinkyitis flu pandemic that would infect everyone old enough to sneeze – even though she had never been ill in her life before.

A post-mortem revealed Mrs Gullible has suffered a massive Propaganda allergy reaction resulting from worries over whether the imminent Porcinella virus was a natural pandemic or a man-made pandemonium?

But now civil service health gurus with less medical training than a troop of Namibian meerkat have unveiled a bizarre new tactic to combat the virus’s mortality effects – a role-play game using a set of dice.

The Fluedo Pandemic Game, which can be downloaded from the Department of Health’s website, is for three to a hundred players, takes around 90 minutes per game and has chance cards for ‘Natural Immunity’ and ‘Free Cremation’ much like Monopoly.

Initially devised for the Ministry of Scaremongering by Regents Park Zoo’s Primate Think Tank the game is supposed to simulate ‘the effects of a flu pandemic on staffing in an imaginary group of small businesses’, and a version has also been developed for use in Jobcentres, pubs and funeral parlours.

Players assume the identity of staff at imaginary workplaces – which strangely enough includes the elitist Whitehall Rub and Tug Massage Salon, where the 75 staff are a mix of Eastern European pikey sluts, pretty Brazilian faggots and a sexy cadre of dodgy Thai shemales .

The game has 15 rounds, each representing one working week. At the start of each round players roll a set of four dice, with the number they roll indicating whether they will go down with swine flu, get made redundant or killed in a mugging.

In the first round, it takes a roll of four sixes to be condemned to the virus. But as the rounds go on, the probability of each worker catching swine flu increases as the imaginary pandemic takes hold and stocks of Scamiflu capsules dwindle.

By round six player need only roll a single six to come down with the virus, which means they have to get their Grunt-Gone vaccination – or suffer a horrible phlegm-hacking death, sneezing out meters of runny green snot.

The surviving players are asked at the end of each round to discuss the impact that the pandemic has had on their businesses, then they can rush out – vomit – and call their insurance agents to increase their life cover – or jump on a flight to Marlon Brando’s to-let Pacific island in a survival bid of self-imposed quaratine.

However critics have complained that the board game’s a waste of time and that the resources should have been directed at forcing the Government to tell the truth for once and concentrate their energies on preventing New World Order agent provocateurs from spreading the Porcinella virus across the UK by aerosol contamination methods with covert super-sneeze machines.

Department of Health spokeswoman Candida Twatrot refused to commit herself on how much the game has cost the taxpayer – but did indicate to one reporter from Pox News “Peanuts – and a couple of bunches of bananas.”

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