A few months ago, somebody found some kids' bones and teeth under an old orphanage. The orphanage used to lose some of their brats from time to time, but nobody cared. They did not have families and nobody else minded. The smart-alecs from our local police, however, saw the bones and thought they would check out a crackpot theory that the bones are what happened to the lost brats. I suppose it could have been true, but they were just poor orphans, so what would it matter if they did end up in the cellar anyway? The police then go and have a big, expensive investigation with loads of bad publicity. Even worse, they asked nosy questions about who let the orphanage get on with its business in the traditional way, as if something had been hushed up. All this was making the government look bad. The Chief of Police had to go.
Well this week, we pulled a brilliant one. The new detective on the case said there hadn't been any murders after all. This meant we could claim the Chief was incompetent for saying there might have been and checking to make sure there wasn't. After all, he should have just taken our word for it that the government knew how to run things properly, even back then before my generation took power. So we have kicked him out and blamed him for losing loads of money that could have been spent on important stuff like consultants and civil servants.
He, of course, is whining that checking out human remains in funny places is what police do. Our resident awkward backbencher is leaking what we are up to left, right and centre, too. Fortunately he is a bit flaky and totally charmless, so we are going to put it about that he is just a conspiracy theorist and paranoid about everything. As long as we can keep the media away from these two, and the chief's ex-sidekick I reckon we should get away with it all. By the time I am up for re-election we will have made sure it has all been forgotten.