Council Charges Residents for Breathing Premium Air
By Doris Doublecheck, Consumer Champion
DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of satire and is entirely fictional or maybe not!!
I’ve lived in Britain for ninety-two years.
I’ve survived rationing, power cuts, three husbands who all claimed they could put up shelves properly, and a grandson who still can’t programme the television.
But nothing prepared me for the latest letter from the council.
It arrived in a smart-looking envelope marked:
“IMPORTANT – PREMIUM AIR BILL ENCLOSED.”
Naturally, I assumed someone had made a mistake.
After all, I’d been breathing for over nine decades and nobody had ever sent me an invoice before.
According to the letter, my local council had introduced a new Premium Air Contribution Scheme, designed to ensure residents enjoyed “only the finest quality oxygen.”
The charges were remarkable.
- Standard breathing: Free
- Premium Fresh Air: £14.95 per month
- Extra Fresh Weekend Air: £9.99
- Deep Breath Supplement: £4.50 per inhale
- Mountain Breeze Upgrade: £29.99
- Emergency Sigh Licence: £2.50 each
I telephoned the council immediately.
After listening to forty-seven minutes of hold music that sounded suspiciously like someone learning the recorder, a cheerful adviser answered.
“Good morning. Premium Air Department.”
“I’ve received a bill for breathing,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Congratulations. You’re one of our regular users.”
I asked how they knew how much air I’d used.
She explained proudly.
“We estimate.”
“Based on what?”
“How alive you appear to be.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
Apparently, anyone seen walking briskly, laughing, gardening or climbing stairs would automatically qualify as a High Oxygen Consumer.
Meanwhile, pensioners who spent most afternoons watching television could apply for the Economy Breathing Tariff.
The council brochure proudly listed several optional upgrades.
For an extra £19.99, residents could purchase “Countryside Air Plus,” containing “hints of freshly cut grass.”
For £49.99, customers received “Executive Oxygen Gold,” allegedly filtered through “artisan oak trees.”
The premium package even included one complimentary deep breath every bank holiday.
I attended the public consultation meeting.
The council leader explained the scheme using an impressive PowerPoint presentation entitled:
“Monetising Atmospheric Opportunities.”
One resident stood up.
“What happens if we hold our breath?”
The council replied,
“We’re currently consulting on that.”
Another gentleman asked whether breathing through his own window counted as imported air.
Three consultants immediately formed a working group.
Outside the meeting hall, enterprising teenagers had already begun selling black-market oxygen.
A handwritten sign read:
“Fresh Air – Cash Only – No VAT.”
Business was brisk.
One gentleman proudly claimed his air had been collected at six o’clock that morning from the top of a nearby hill.
His competitor insisted his came from Wales.
As for me, I politely declined both offers.
I’ve reached an age where I refuse to pay for something I’ve been doing successfully since 1934.
When I finally returned home, another council letter was waiting on the doormat.
It simply read:
“Congratulations.
Our records show you took a deep sigh while reading your previous invoice.
£2.50 has been added to your account.”
I sighed again.
Apparently…
…that one cost me another £2.50.