Once upon a time, all the house elves in every Kingdom went on strike for better pay and conditions, and darkness descended upon the land.

No longer were the houses of peasants, merchants and nobility alike lit at night with a welcoming glow, no longer did the kitchens give out their instant heat to cook the meat for the families.  No longer did the water miraculously appear in the houses for the washing of the clothes.  No longer did magic tunes drift through the houses to soothe the families as they went about their daily tasks.  No longer did the streets take on a warm light at night to keep the land safe for all from the footpads who roamed the land.

In short, the Dark Ages had come, and the people were miserable.  Meetings were held to determine what could be done to rectify matters, and the common folk begged the Kings to restore their comforts.  However, the Kings would not be swayed, and they stood their ground and refused to give in to the elves' demands.   When it became evident to the elves that they were batting on a sticky wicket, they decided that enough was enough.  Humanity could go pee up a rope from now on.  They not only walked off the job permanently, but they set sail on the ocean to the west, and withdrew from the world of mankind forever.

At this, the people panicked, and they blamed the Kings for their deprivation.  Every time a woman had to carry a pail of water into the house, she would curse a King.  Every time a sailor was mugged in a dark alley, he would curse a King.  Back in the Dark Ages, these curses meant something, so the Kings were suffering things like ear-holes which shat all over their shoulders, rabbits in their carrot patches, and other assorted ailments.  Obviously something had to be done.

The great wizards were approached for advice, but they told the Kings that the elves had gone for good, and that they had vowed never to return, and that there was no easy answer to their problems.  The wizards, not liking the current state of affairs any more than the common folk, decided to adopt the principal of 'If you can't beat them, join them,' and hastily hoisted their sails and followed the elves in their migration.

After years of curses, the Kings decided that they too had had enough, and turned affairs of state over to the common people and returned to their favourite pursuits like dragon baiting, Grail seeking, and general roistering.

At first the officials elected by the hoi polloi were very keen and eager to serve humanity.  They instigated programmes of research and science, which led eventually, and over long periods of time, to the invention of electricity and piped water, washing machines and stereos, so the amenities abandoned by the house elves were eventually restored to the common folk, and there was much rejoicing.  Oh yeah?  Like hell there was!

You see, the problem was that once these officials had outlived their usefulness, they were reluctant to give up their powers.  They had also discovered a new phrase:  the gravy train!  They had to invent new things to do to carry on justifying their existence, so they gave themselves a new title, Politicians, and so were born income tax, heritage listings, multanovas, censorship, foreign aid, inflation, wars against terror, illegal immigrants, GST, and all other such goodies.

The moral of the story?  Next time John Howard gets up your nose, blame the house elves for the whole sorry mess!