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How A Wee Fella Saved Us Millions

Kenny Keith, whom many believed had headed Holland-side to the International Court of Justice, tied back his flowing locks and eased himself behind the specially lowered wheel of an inconspicuous five-tonner.

Our Man On The Inside was as good as his word, Wee Kenny grinned. Neatly stacked in the truck was a collection of near-new army tents, trestle tables, half a dozen folding chairs (in fair repair, with a spare), a set of nice tumblers, juke-box and five recently disinfected portable outhouses, each of which bore the nation’s Coat of Arms and the initials of its intended occupant. “A snip at 500 notes and enough change to drop a couple of Bombays into the chillybin,” mused Wee Kenny, heading down Lampton Quay. “Who needs $65 mill when there’s plenty of good old Kiwi Number 8 lying around?”  The old Magistrates Court and public toilets were long gone but Kenny still had a key to the disused High Court building, the one that nice Minister Mr Barker was promising to do-up. Many a time Kenny and his chums slipped in through the side door and down into the dungeons for some all-night pak-a-poo sessions with resting pole dancers…But enough… Kenny had work to do if everything was to be spic and span for Sian in the morning…