The Bill that never was

Once upon a time there was a Bill known as the Draft Antarctica Bill. It had high hopes this little Bill. He had been the talk of the town, known by Kings and Queens and all of the major heads of state. Sir Greenpeace said he was the saviour of the glacial south, while seafarers called him a pesky little mite but with a heart of gold. Expeditionists feared him and scientist chuckled at his cheeky ways. One day, the Draft Antarctic Bill heard a knock at the door. ‘That’s strange’ he thought, ‘I wonder who that could be?’ So up he got, and went to the door, only to find that it was none other than the Guardian.

‘You have been summoned, little one’, the Guardian said. ‘Your powers, though subtle, are fair and true. The Queen, her majesty, Elizabeth Regina is much impressed with your ways, and extends to you an interview at court.’

‘This is, indeed, a great honour’, the little Bill said. ‘Please tell her majesty that it would be my pleasure to attend. I shall to Buckingham post-haste!’

Oh, the smile on his little face as he ran up stairs to shine his shoes and press his best shirt. His eyes were shining with joy as he straightened his tie. I will be the envy of all my friends, he thought, not to mention one in the eye to all those dusty parliamentary reform bills who said I’d never amount to anything.

So off he set, with a spring in his step and a song in his heart, all the way up to the doors of Westminster.

As he arrived, what a sight he beheld. Lords and Ladies decked out in their fineries. Plumes and beefeaters as far as the eye could see. And as everyone filed in through the great doors, off his set.

‘I am here to see her majesty, the Queen’, he said, his voice quivery with emotion.

‘Name’, the Guardsman demanded, with a sneer.

‘The Draft Antarctica Bill: environmental champion and bringer of justice’, he replied, summoning as much courage as he could muster.

The Guardsman lowered his eyes and looked the little Bill up and down.

‘There is no place here for the likes of you. Be gone’, the Guardsman spat.

‘But…’, the little Bill spluttered.

‘BE GONE!!’, he bellowed. ‘You may, try again next year, though I hold no hope for the likes of you’.

As the last of the guests took to their seats, and the bitter November wind began to blow once more, the little Bill could only stare up at the great institution which had shunned him once more.

Now what do you think the little Bill did then? He was sad, it is true. He was angry and hurt, but he did not give up hope, for he was made of sterner stuff, and he knew he had righteousness on his side.

So he went to the highest peak in all of Londinium, and as the gales increased, and the rain began to pound the earth, he summoned the power of Gaia.

‘Gaia, Mother Nature, creator of all, do not forgive these mortals, for they know what they do, and they, in their arrogance, seek to defy you!’, he roared into the elements.


A lightning bolt struck the ground where the little Bill stood, and he was torn asunder.

But immediately, the skies began to darken and a great light was seen in the distance. The sun began to focus all of its strength on the Antarctic ice caps, and they began to sizzle and melt. The penguins ran for cover, the polar bears tried to hide, the whales wondered since when had the polar bears and penguins been friends, and why hadn’t they been invited.

And the seas, and the oceans, the rivers and the streams in all world’s lands began to rise. And the House of Lords, in all their pomp and circumstance, were drowned en masse, and the MPs were eaten by sharks which had swam up stream.

And that was the story of the little Bill that never was.