WeirdReal story, taken somewhere strangePolitics-ish · 2 min read

Regulator Discovers Absolute Power, Immediately Demands The Moon’s Transfer Papers

After a real warning about Manchester City, a newly awakened office begins reviewing ownership documents for every football, moon and moderately large sandwich.

Stock photo: stack of paperwork on an office desk
Stock photo for illustration. The events described did not happen. Photo: myrfa / Pixabay

MANCHESTER, A newly invented government regulator ate three filing cabinets and briefly concluded that it held absolute power after the chair of the Independent Football Regulator said the watchdog could compel Manchester City’s owners to sell the club if financial-rule violations survive an appeal.

The chair had been discussing legal powers and a real football club. Shortly afterwards, the Office of Total Sporting Authority began stamping “SEIZED” on whatever sat nearby: a stapler, a deputy minister’s lunch and a fern that had already had a difficult morning.

“We are exploring the outer edge of our remit,” said Crispin Waffle, Deputy Director of Ultimate Jurisdiction, beneath a banner reading ABSOLUTE POWER, SUBJECT TO FORM 94B. “So far that includes football clubs, stationery and, provisionally, Tuesday.”

“At present, this appears to include football clubs, stationery and possibly Tuesday.” — Crispin Waffle, Deputy Director of Ultimate Jurisdiction

Documents that do not exist show the office decided ownership was a concept rather than an object. Staff therefore considered transferring it by fax, ceremonial pointing or reading a spreadsheet aloud in a low voice. They then asked for evidence that the moon had passed its financial sustainability test, before discovering that nobody could say who owned it.

The paperwork did not improve matters. The Department of Unavoidable Consequences held a hearing with 14 binders, a brass bell and an unnamed man who had apparently been waiting nearby since 2007. The binders made submissions after showing they understood alphabetical order. The bell was asked whether it held any football interests. It rang once. Officials placed it under review.

A spokesperson for the Committee On Things That Must Now Be Sold spoke from inside a filing cabinet and said the office would intervene wherever “an ownership structure has become too confident.” Clubs were included. So were stadiums, vending machines and the emotional rights to a disappointing cup run. No club has faced these extra powers yet, because the paperwork remains in the laminating queue.

By lunchtime, the office had demanded that all remaining authority be transferred to itself. It then rejected the demand because the applicant was already itself. A junior clerk settled the issue by putting both forms in a biscuit tin marked PENDING. They are expected to achieve sentience by Thursday.

The actual point remains fairly plain. The Independent Football Regulator’s chair said a sale could be forced if findings against Manchester City are upheld after appeal. The filing cabinets, moon documents and stationery with emotional standing are fictional. The fern is still under observation for administrative reasons.

How did this land?