My Mole

I would like to say a special hello to my mole. I don't know who you are but you know I mean you so hey! What's up?

When my family first moved to BIM I had lots of moles. Moles reading every piece of mail with our address then sealing it back with tape and a big stamp claiming 'damaged'. I had moles on the road with little note pads scribbling away the times I came and went, what I wore, how much weight I'd gained. I had moles that would drop by under all kinds of pretexts, asking all kinds of questions, making all kinds of reports...I was inundated with moles.

Of course, those moles were there to check us out. I mean what kinda crazy white people ship their family to the third world to raise chickens? Once they discovered that we were exactly that interesting they set about finding someone else to investigate. Every once in awhile they pop their heads out. I wave. I'm still exactly that interesting.

But now, now I have my very own personal blog mole who reads and responds with enviable subtlety. I am impressed. For example:

I write about the licensing authority- the paper writes about it same week and then the L.A. gets overhauled.
I write about the roller- the roller gets taken away the very next day and hasn't come back since.
I write about the snails and the paper takes that too only they white wash it 'cause Lord knows they wouldn't dare have worm say anything bad about WCC (and in the process cut the humour in half).

I am really quite flattered and if such a mole exists- one that actually has the power to make changes based on my bullshit- then I will do my utmost best to provide you with as much as possible and maybe you all can actually run this fly speck island with some kind of efficiency. So Mr. Mole, please don't get scared off by my sleuth work, I actually enjoy having you here. Now why don't you see about that driveway at St. Elizabeth Primary? Your government sponsored mosquito breeding splash ponds are absolutely ridiculous.