Planning Permission

The following takes place following: Traverscast

Two weeks later...

Despite Master Devlin successfully convincing Travers not to build his citadel on the old council building grounds due to cultural heritage concerns, the project was still going ahead. The new site—much closer to the current Town Hall—involved demolishing the Winifred Burkle Library and a large section of the Waldonian University campus. Meanwhile, the Traverscast screens had gone live in Little Akiba. Both policies were drawing fierce criticism in the press, but Travers remained undeterred.

Master Devlin: Did you see this article, Travers?

He tosses a copy of the Waldopolis Chronicle onto Travers’ desk.

Master Devlin: The public are right. It’s a waste of taxpayers’ money—the televisions, the citadel...

Travers: The public are speaking out of turn. They don’t know any better. And my mind’s made up. They’ll thank me later.

Master Devlin: Fine. But at least give the citadel a makeover. The architecture needs to match the surrounding buildings in Waldobury.

Travers: Now look here, Master Devlin. I conceded on the location—but I draw the line at redesigning the exterior. I'm perfectly happy making it cosy inside, but I quite like how it looks from the outside.

Master Devlin: The Citadel is a cold, dark, metallic tower. It doesn’t fit with the surrounding buildings. If it were a sandstone structure—or relocated to another part of town, it might look okay. But this is just hideous.

Travers: Master Devlin, you're speaking out of turn! It didn’t fit with Widdicombe either, yet I don’t recall you complaining. Are we sure this isn’t just a case of NIMBYism?

Master Devlin: Of course it is NIMBYism but it's also true. Don’t put a towering monstrosity next to the council and the university—it’ll look dreadful. Travers gestures out the window at the looming tower.

Travers: Look at it! It’s beautiful. It’ll fit right in with Waldobury, I assure you. I do think I’d like a classical interior, though—Mr Boothe, warm colours, wooden finishes, pretty much like this room.

Master Devlin: Why not build a new hospital instead? Replace the rape hospital. Use the money to help people, rather than feed your ego.

Travers: I see no reason we can’t do both. Next financial year, we’ll get right on it. Then again, a great many of the staff died anyway... why not just hire new, non-rapey staff?

Master Devlin: Yes, we can. But many of the staff had prior convictions—sex offences, most of them. And you got their cases dismissed back when you were a scoundrel of a lawyer. If we fire them now, they could go to the press. It might get... messy.

Travers: So if I understand you correctly, we should keep the remaining rapey staff and build a new hospital out of shame?

Master Devlin: That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying: think before you act. This is yet another mess you created that’s come back to bite you. Maybe close the hospital for “safety reasons”—bad concrete, construction flaws, whatever. Quietly phase out the staff. Build a field hospital. Hire new people.

Travers: Yes, well—let’s come back to that one... In the meantime, perhaps it’s time to consider changing the name of that hospital. Apparently this James Savile fellow has fallen out of public favour. Some kind of evil deviant wizard, I hear?

Master Devlin: I had heard. That’s why I’ve been urging a name change since day one. I'd also suggest renaming the Christian Szell Dental School.

Travers: Fine, fine. I’m also coming round to the idea of renaming the Rolf Harris Animal Hospital in West Widdlington. Seems we’re a little behind the times here. This town needs an enema, Master Devlin. A full rebranding. One that’s more welcoming, less... insane. That’s what I’m trying to achieve with these campaigns.

We should make it easier to get here, too. Roads. Infrastructure. We need tourism. In fact, I was thinking of commissioning a tourist guide for the county. And frankly, Master Devlin, I’d appreciate it if you’d support these ideas instead of constantly speaking out of turn!

Master Devlin: I do help you, Travers. But you hired me to speak out of turn. If everything were just jolly all the time, I wouldn’t be doing my job. I’m here to identify problems and fix them before they spiral. The problem is, I spend all my time dealing with your latest scandal. As soon as we clean up one mess, another rolls in. I barely have space to think about the broader picture.

Travers: Yes, well—I do appreciate your frankness, Master Devlin. But you knew what you were getting into.

Master Devlin: Of course I did. My job is to keep an eye on you. But Travers—you’re a walking catastrophe. You leave a trail of scandal and chaos. You act like nothing you do could possibly backfire. But every move you make is a tabloid headline waiting to happen. The press is out for blood—not because you’re important, but because you’re entertaining and it sells newspapers.

Travers: And I’m not worried... because you have my back.

Master Devlin: Yet you never take my advice. Back to the Citadel—do you really think you’ll get planning permission to tear down half of Waldobury?

Travers: Please. I’m the mayor. I am planning permission!

Master Devlin: Unfortunately, Mr Mayor, you’re not. You were appointed by the Waldonian Council Authority. All buildings must go through the Planning and Development Division. You’ll need to write a scope explaining why the Citadel is necessary in that location. Of course, they’re as crooked as anyone else—so you’ll probably need to grease a few palms. That’s politics.

Travers: For crying out loud... 😠 Fine! Just forget it. Mr Boothe, cancel the relocation of the Citadel. I suppose we’ll just tolerate being above Widdicombe for now. Are you happy, Master Devlin? I’m sure Van Der Beak didn’t have to deal with this crap.

Master Devlin: I’m never happy. I’m just explaining the bureaucratic minefield. You could submit an application—but they'd probably demand you build a hospital at the base or something. And for the record, Van Der Beak was a wartime tyrant. Are you comparing yourself to him?

Travers: No, no. I’m far too nice. Anyway—put out the word: after careful consideration, I’ve decided not to relocate the Citadel. Instead, we’re moving the Mayor’s Office to the Citadel—in Widdicombe. I’m not thrilled about it... but I suppose a seven-minute walk won’t kill me.

Master Devlin: Very well. I still think it's a needless expense—but at least it’s off the university lawn.

Season 6 continues in The Butter Lobby