Forms and Functions

It would be recorded in history books – if anyone cared to download history books into their cortex – that the tenth and last Prime Minister had haemorrhoids when he ascended into power.

The man who would become Premier – Rizalman Samiun – had a bad case of it, necessitating even a surgical procedure to alleviate his pain and remove the offending part.

Sitting in his recovery ward at University Hospital, somewhere in Petaling Jaya, the bureaucrat decided to while away the time by filling in his insurance claim forms.

“Form P.613.556#,” he said to the printer in his room. He sounded like this, “Form P dot six one three dot five five six hatch.” Out came five sheets of A4 paper from the printer.

Rizalman hobbled to get the printouts, and then back to his bed. He placed the pieces of paper on his wheeled counter. He didn’t look at them for 5 minutes as he adjusted his buttocks on the bed, to find a position that would be painless enough to sit down and fill in the form without requiring another shift in position.

And so it was 5 or 6 minutes before Rizalman actually started to fill in the form.

He wrote his name, his Identification number, his gender, genital size… wait! Genital size? Rizalman took a gander at the top of the form and his face turned into a knot of fear and confusion.

He had expected to read the form heading as ‘P.613.556# Insurance Claim Form for Penile, Vaginal, Anal, Butt-Cheeks and Other Parts on the Bottom, for CS23 Level’. CS23 being his level – Civil Servant 23. However, the form heading he was holding actually read ‘P.613¬556# (the ¬ symbol read as ‘notch’ in Malaysian bureaucracy) Application to Become Prime Minister, for CS20’.

Rizalman’s first instinct was to return the form, almost jumping out of bed and causing severe pain on his haemorrhoids. While he tried to stand up, in agony, he remembered his training as a bureaucrat and realised it was no longer possible. According to Ordinance 65 of the New Malaysia Charter, returning a partially-filled form will result in the death penalty. Rizalman checked again to see his name written in the neat little boxes with blue ink, and his heart sank.

There was no turning back now. He would have to finish it. And then perhaps get it rejected, meaning he will be laughed at by all his colleagues and superiors, and it would survive as a dark red blemish on his files.

Well, it was either that or death – and having barely survived haemorrhoid surgery, Rizalman could not even bear the thought of state-sanctioned death penalty, which involved revolving plow blades shoved into one’s penis or vagina. He saw one execution on Malaysia Today and lost his breakfast that morning.

So, with trepidation, Rizalman grit his teeth and started filling in the form to become Prime Minister.

After filling the boxes and lines of the first page with his personal information involving addresses, contact details, social media accounts and the like, he went about the second page, which was an electronic paper.

He put a thumbprint on the allocated spot and the second page began to talk.

“Please stand by for obligatory IQ test,” said the piece of paper.

Rizalman experienced a minor shock as the paper scanned him. He knew that to be a politician, one has to have an IQ of less than 70 – around that of the average monkey. Rizalman was proud of his IQ, which was around 80. His friends who scored more than 120 were all killed, for fear they would start an uprising against the former Prime Ministers and at safely below the dreaded 100 mark, Rizalman was on the fasttrack to becoming a GM (CS20) in five years’ time.

Maybe, when the form detected him as having a higher IQ, his application would be rejected outright and he could put all this behind him. Nevertheless, the last time Rizalman had his IQ checked was four years ago, when he applied for a vacation to Paris, France.

The whirring of the paper stopped and a number appeared in a box on the second page of the form.

“69?” Rizalman was almost beside himself with frustration. “69?” He jumped about on his bed and landed the part of his buttocks which had the surgery on his foot and experienced a sharp pain, at which he jumped again and the cycle repeated itself four times before Rizalman managed to steady himself.

Apparently, working in bureaucracy has lessened his IQ to more acceptable levels. There was no turning back now – he was eligible to become Prime Minister.

What followed was four more pages of intrusive scanning and filling in neat little boxes with block letters. Rizalman harrumphed and tutted at many of the blanks, requesting information on any sordid love affairs, history with alcohol, sexually deviant practices, the number of different religious beliefs he has held (there was a minimum of four – one official, three behind closed doors); the paper also scanned him again for anti-Semitism, his level of racism (accepted level was 60% at least) and his response time (a minimum of 300% slower than a normal chimpanzee).

He was also tested for dancing skills – which he scored an acceptable 38 of 100 – allergy to any flowers, pollen or bee stings, as well as his tendency to find an overweight mate or wife. It was that sort of form.

After four gruelling hours, Rizalman filled in the last remaining box on the final blank, and finally signed his name at the bottom.

He gave the form a last glance-over, to make sure he had all the particulars right, when he noticed that underneath his name were some terms and conditions.

“Only applicable to CS20 and above. CS21 and below will be executed if they were to hand in a filled P.613¬556#.”

“Dammit!” yelled Rizalman. He was going to die anyway. His mind raced over his 69 IQ, and he began to remember his mentor – a short old man named Rahman.

“Use the farce in the bottleneck of bureucratic form processing, Rizalman. Use the farce.”

That’s it!

He knew that the P-forms has to be sent latest three days from printing. He had time to get to CS20, and he knew just the thing to do.

His boss made the obligatory visit to his ward the next day, and Rizalman surprised him with a knife to his chest as well as a beautifully filled Form #\#\KCS4462#\ – the form to kill your superior for reasons including filling his position.

The police who came by marvelled at Rizalman’s form-filling skills and they even got his autograph. One doctor asked Rizalman to help him fill a form for his child’s gender-reassignment surgery, which Rizalman did with aplomb. He was, after all, now CS22. Just two more rungs on the ladder within two days, and he would be set to send in his P.613¬556# Application to Become Prime Minister, for CS20.

Luckily for him, his big boss – a CS21 – and his big big boss – a CS20 – worked at the same office as he. The following morning, Rizalman hobbled on his injured ass and approached the two men on their lunch break.

The two greeted him and asked him to sit down with them, which he declined with detailed explanations concerning his haemorrhoids. Rizalman simply greeted them and after placing something covertly by their side, hobbled off somewhere.

Rizalman was looking through the windows of his office as his two bosses were arrested by the cigarette police. Though the two protested, the police showed them the pack of cigarettes Rizalman had set near them, as well as a beautifully filled-in form to request the cigarette police’s intervention in such a heinous crime of smoking outdoors on a sunny day, outside an enclosed space.

Rizalman watched in glee as his big boss and big big boss were executed on the spot – their brains splattering on the ground. He even clapped as the cigarette police filled in the form for clean-up – a fairly simple receipt that managed to hail down the garbage men who pushed the bodies into a makeshift garbage can.

Rizalman sent in his P.613¬556#  Application to Become Prime Minister, for CS20 at 12 noon that day, more than 30 minutes before the unofficial civil service closing time, and hobbled to his home with a smile.
 

 

***

What happened next is well-known history, as it has been turned into a movie. Rizalman – the greatest filler of forms the world has ever seen – spent the first 30 days of his reign to fill in form P.613¬556# – Ammendment Application 6  which installed him as Prime Minister in perpetuity.

He subsequently outlawed his own death and made sure that if he were to ever pass on, the country would be dissolved and the underground nukes would detonate, killing everyone.

We are now in a time of economic and social prosperity due to the benevolent reign of Prime Minister Rizalman Samiun the First (and Last) regardless of what the scientists have said on websites and Faceblag last night concerning the encroaching nuclear winter due to wars fought between China and India.

Prime Minister Rizalman will surely fill in a form and take care of nuclear winter through his superior use and understanding of bureaucracy.

Long live the Prime Minister!