Ministry of Social Disaster Xmas Special

Ministry of Social Disaster Xmas Special

Scrooge, the Shield and Paper-Pushing Parrots

· Random Circuits

Parliament closes on 11 December for Christmas cheer — while families are pushed into the Homeless Queue. This is not Christmas cheer, it is a Christmas crisis. It cannot wait until after Christmas, and it cannot wait for a 2027 promise that may never happen. Scrooge hides behind the Legislation Shield while parrots push endless paperwork — and families are funneled into the Homeless Queue.

Sepia style image MSD cast as a miserly Scrooge, hoarding piles of gold coins behind him. He clutches a sack of wealth while handing out a single coin. In front, the poor figure holds his hand out for help.

Audit Avalanche Christmas Special: 

The Conveyor Belt to Homelessness

Welcome to the festive season, where Ministry of Social Disaster (MSD) aka Minsitry of Social Development (yeah right) gifts you quarterly audits, asset guillotines, and a treadmill made entirely of paperwork. In this Random Circuits episode, we unwrap the refusal-coded mechanics of New Zealand’s social support system — one motif-rich disaster at a time.

🏃 Paperwork Treadmill

Instead of helping people into work, MSD straps them to a treadmill labeled “PAPERWORK.” The goal? Prove poverty so thoroughly that you have no time left to escape it.

A sepia-toned, hand-drawn illustration shows a weary man walking on a treadmill labeled “PAPERWORK,” surrounded by floating sheets of forms. Above him, bold serif text reads “TOO BUSY PROVING POVERTY TO ESCAPE IT.” The background resembles aged parchment, evoking the style of a vintage political cartoon.

🔪 $1,000 Guillotine

If you have more than $1,000 in savings or investments, the blade drops on Temporary Additional Support, you have to use the insufficient accomodation supplement and we are already paying you the maximum $169 a week (single person), find a room for that, no - thats too bad that's the rules. Retirement funds? Gone. House equity? Liquidated. Only after you’ve sold everything are you allowed to join the Homeless Ledger because you already have a home that you are about to lose it is irrelevant.

A sepia drawn illustration depicts a guillotine labeled “THE $1,000 GUILLOTINE.” The blade is marked “$1,000 ASSET CAP” and hangs above a sack of money. A distressed woman in an orange sweater reaches toward the guillotine, clutching savings and retirement documents. In the background, the Wicked Old Lady of MSD watches gleefully from a podium labeled “Eligibility Rules.” The image satirizes MSD’s policy of forcing asset liquidation before support is granted.

❄️ Audit Avalanche

Every three months, the Wicked Old Lady of MSD emerges from her filing cabinet fortress to unleash a blizzard of forms. Once you are under $1000 limit Temporary Additional Support (TAS) recipients must reapply, reprove, and rejustify their existence — again.

A weary figure is buried beneath a mountain of paperwork labeled “AUDIT.” Only their head and one raised arm are visible above the pile. The arm holds a sign that reads “HELP” in bold, capital letters. In the top right corner, a stern elderly woman — the Wicked Old Lady of MSD — adds another form to the avalanche. The papers cascade downward, symbolizing bureaucratic overload. The illustration is rendered in sepia tones with vintage-style shading and cross-hatching, evoking a satirical cartoon.

🏰 Band-Aid Castle

Emergency housing, hardship grants, and Temporary Additional Support were meant to be temporary. But in MSD’s world, temporary fixes become permanent architecture. Families live in motels for years while the real problems — housing supply, income adequacy, systemic gatekeeping — remain untouched.

A sepia drawn shows a crumbling stone castle patched with oversized adhesive bandages labeled “TEMP FIX.” A worried family stands at the base, peering into the dark entrance. In the top corner, the Wicked Old Lady of MSD prepares to slap another bandage onto the wall while clutching a “POLICY” paper. The scene satirizes how temporary fixes become permanent failures, trapping families in bureaucratic decay.

🗂️ Checkbox Carnival

Behind the scenes, staff are less interested in solving problems than staging a performance to meet stats. Every ticked box is a ritual of compliance, not care. You can’t get on the housing waiting list until you’ve actually lost your home. Looming foreclosure? Imminent eviction? Irrelevant. The checkbox clowns keep the conveyor belt rolling, proving only that they can meet stats while families slide toward homelessness. It’s not support — it’s a carnival of refusal.

Three identical clowns sit behind a striped booth labeled “Checkbox Carnival.” Each clown has a bald head, exaggerated smile, and ruffled collar. One clown marks checkboxes on a form, while the others grin mindlessly. A large ledger beside them displays ticked boxes. The caption below reads “Ticking boxes, not solving problems.” The illustration is rendered in sepia tones with vintage-style shading, evoking a satirical cartoon.

🦜 Paper-Pushing Parrots Protocol

Behind every checkbox ticked, there’s a paper-pushing parrot mindlessly parroting the script. They hand out more forms to make you quiet, another form to see if you qualify, another to decide if your evidence counts — but never tell you how to get it. You were given shares but not the tools to value them; that’s your problem. The parrots don’t solve crises, they delay them. Their job is to usher you out of the office, keep the paperwork flowing, and prove the system can tick boxes while lives unravel.

A sepia-toned editorial cartoon shows three parrots sitting at a desk covered in stacks of paper. The parrot on the left is ticking boxes on a checklist with a pencil. The middle parrot stares directly ahead with a neutral expression, while the right parrot looks sideways toward the paperwork. Above them, the title “PAPER‑PUSHING PARROTS” is clearly visible and centered, with the subtitle “TICKING BOXES, IGNORING CRISES” below it. The illustration uses vintage-style shading and cross-hatching to evoke a satirical critique of bureaucratic inefficiency.

🛡️ Legislation Shield → Homeless Queue

When people ask for help, MSD raises the Legislation Shield stamped with “You’re getting the maximum allowed.” Behind the shield is a conveyor belt leading straight to the Homeless Queue.

• 	Families plead: “No one can find a room for the price you pay.”

• 	Government replies: “It can wait until 2027.”

• 	Reality: Every day of delay adds more names to the queue.

Sidebar Caption: Legislation Shield: blocking reform, feeding the Homeless Queue.

This is not Christmas cheer — it is a Christmas crisis. The accommodation allowance is insufficient, and the government says reform can wait until 2027. But it cannot wait until after Christmas, and it cannot wait for a promise that may never happen.

We’ve seen Parliament call emergency sittings to deliver benefits to landlords. They must do the same for families clinging to their homes. Every week of delay forces more people into homelessness. The refusal is not just cruel; it is codified.

📜 Homeless Ledger

Once everything is gone — savings, home, retirement — you’re reclassified. Not helped. Not housed. Just added to the homeless list. The system doesn’t catch you; it waits until you fall, then writes your name in ink.

Santa Claus stands beside a large open ledger titled “THE HOMELESS LEDGER.” He holds a pen, poised to write names into the book. His expression is serious and weary, not joyful. The ledger pages are lined and filled with indistinct names. Above Santa, bold text reads “THE HOMELESS LEDGER,” and below, “SANTA’S NAUGHTY LIST REWRITTEN BY MSD.” The illustration is rendered in sepia tones with vintage-style shading, evoking a satirical cartoon.

📢 MSD Mission is a Tui Ad

MSD’s mission statement reads like a glossy billboard: “Here to help families thrive.” Yeah, right. The slogans promise housing support, financial security, accessibility, compassion, and accountability — but every line collapses under the weight of refusal‑coded reality. 

Housing support means you can’t get on the waiting list until you’ve actually lost your goal of having your own home. Foreclosure looming?  Irrelevant.

Financial security Sell all your assets, and MSD will help you into homelessness.

Accessibility means more forms to make you quiet. Another form to see if you qualify, you probably don't but it gets you out of the office. Endless paperwork designed to delay, not deliver.

Compassion means parroting scripts instead of solving crises. 

Accountability means proving only that staff can tick boxes while families slide toward homelessness.

A vintage-style illustration shows two distressed individuals surrounded by refusal-coded paperwork. On the left, a man holds a cardboard box labeled “FORECLOSED” and sits beside a paper labeled “AUDIT.” His expression is weary and defeated. On the right, a stern elderly woman with a tight bun hands him a sign that reads “HELP.” In front of her is a large clipboard labeled “HOMELESS” with three empty checkboxes.” The entire image is rendered in sepia tones with textured shading and cross-hatching, evoking a satirical editorial cartoon.

🎁 Closing Punchline

This Christmas, MSD gives the gift of exhaustion — and calls it support. We’re documenting every tile, every trapdoor, every refusal‑coded motif. Because satire is our audit trail, and stubborn joy is our legacy. 

The real kicker? MSD still doesn’t understand that they are the problem — and if you can’t understand the problem, you aren’t capable of fixing it. 

A vintage-style illustration shows a split Christmas cracker lying horizontally on textured parchment. The cracker is decorated with stars and tied at both ends with ribbon. In the center, a small paper scroll emerges from the broken middle, reading “MERRY CHRISTMAS” in bold capital letters. Below the cracker, a bold caption reads: “THE REAL KICKER IS UNDERSTANDING THE PROBLEM. AND IF YOU DON’T SEE IT, YOU CAN’T FIX IT.” The image is rendered in sepia tones with cross-hatching and stippling, evoking a satirical editorial cartoon.

Coming in the New Year: should people in a failing ministry keep their jobs when they don’t deliver?

These are the voyages of Random Circuits, boldly entering the arena of ideas that disrupt, challenge, and transform.