House lights down + Sound of cars swishing by + Lights up on stage + The Mayor in his faux gold chains is pacing on the footpath and muttering to himself.
Enter Worker in a high-vis vest, dragging a cone and a stop/go sign over their shoulder.
Worker: Morning your Holiness.
Mayor: Worship.
Worker: Excuse me?
Mayor: I am not a holy person, a miracle worker or God’s right hand man. I’m just the blimming Mayor surrounded by a bunch of elected idiots who have no idea how to run a city.
Worker: Right you are your Lordship.
Mayor: I'm not your Lordship, your warship or any other kind of ship.
Worker: Sorry.
Mayor: You will be.
Worker: What?
Mayor: If you set up one more cone and start congesting the traffic, I swear to God I’ll…
The Worker looks very worried.
Mayor: …call your boss and…
Worker: Yes your highness.
The Mayor looks furiously exasperated.
Worker: Look, I’m just a lowly Manual Traffic Controller. I don’t ask questions, make a fuss or contradict any absurd thing I’m ordered to do. I’ve got mouths to feed, so when I get a 12-page document from my boss, who got his orders from his boss, who took their orders from their boss who answers to the contractor, who is told what to do by Auckland Transport…
Mayor: Ok, I get it… you’re just a cog in the wheel of bureaucracy.
Cone: Hey, can you guys stop arguing?
Worker: What the heck?
Mayor: Where did that come from?
Cone: Down here, I’m the bright orange pointy thing with reflectors.
Worker: It’s a talking cone!
Mayor: I must be going bonkers!
Cone: That’s right, a talking cone. I’m one in a million.
Mayor and Worker: Crickey.
Cone: Yep, cool eh? I’m part of the Traffic Management family and I happen to know that the Council spends over $145 million on me and my bros every year.
Mayor: That’s 10% of the entire rates collected each year.
Worker: For real?
Mayor: That’s the equivalent of $400,000 every day.
Cone: Or $90 for every man, woman and child.
Mayor: Or $17,000 buck-a-roos every hour!
Worker: Crickey, that’s what you call big business.
Cone: And we’re made right here in Tamaki from recycled cones, it’s a win, win.
Mayor: You reckon?
Cone: Absolutely, no one’s going to argue with fluorescent plastic. it’s all about SAFETY, and it’s a licence to print money.
Worker: Shush.
Cone: Pardon?
Worker: Don’t you know he’s the Mayor?
Cone: So what?
Worker: Look, he’s already peeved with the number of cones everywhere and now he knows how much money it’s costing, well, he’ll probably suggest Auckland Transport cuts that big as budget and sack the likes of me who are paid to pick you up and drop you down all day.
Cone: Crickey! Mayor: Look you clowns, I need to get across the road to the Town Hall. I’m already late for a governing body meeting, followed by a transport and infrastructure meeting, followed by a secret chat about a new stadium on the waterfront, so get out of my way.
Worker: Halt.
Mayor: What?
Worker: Stop.
Mayor: Oh for goodness sake, I’m an adult, I can figure out when to cross the road by myself.
Worker: You must stop!
Mayor: Why?
Worker: Because I said so.
Mayor: But I’m the Mayor of Auckland.
Worker: Doesn’t matter, it’s my job to keep you safe and if anything should happen it’s on me. I’d lose my job.
Mayor: But there is no one here, no traffic, I can see all the way up and down the road.
Worker: I’m sorry but rules are rules and these are my orders.
Mayor: Oh damn this, I’m going to text Dean Kimpton.
Cone: Who’s that?
Mayor: The head of Auckland Transport.
Worker: Good luck with that.
Mayor: What on earth do you mean by that?
Worker: In our three-day seminar last week on Traffic Management and Safety at all costs we were taught how to deal with people like you.
Mayor: What do you mean people like me?
Worker: Members of the Public who refuse to follow our instructions and decide to exercise their freedom of movement.
Mayor: A three-day seminar on putting cones out and spinning your sign!
Worker: That’s right, three days once a month with club sandwiches and a coffee cart.
Mayor: So what happens if people cross the road without your permission?
Worker: I call the Calmer Downerers.
Mayor: You mean the Police?
Worker: Yes the Police, and here they are now.
Cone: I want to report a hate crime.
Mayor: Oh for crying out loud.
Blue and red lights flash and a siren wails as the stage lights fade to black. (Lisa Prager, Westmere)
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Published: April 2024