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Published on February 16, 2008

There is something for everyone, be it trains, tunnels or eucalyptus trees.

Some critics complain about the costs involved, but what do they honestly know in comparison to the new ministers, who have collectively accumulated more degrees in political science and law than anyone in the newspapers.

The Thai newspapers of late, having been trying to catch up with so many of these project festivities, have had problems squeezing in all their reports. With all this intrigue, I remembered, just yesterday, an extremely vivid dream I had a few years back. This dream was set in another world: Planet Thakland.

Once upon a time, on Planet Thakland, the party in power decided to build a railway track so long that it went to the planet's north pole. Boring lacklustre staff were not allowed to work on board. There was a former TV presenter who worked as the tour guide, a financial leader who side-lined as the on-board nurse, and the planet's charismatic leader worked as executive chef.

Along the first part of the line were planted a couple of million previously unknown varieties of trees. They were not there to simply enhance the landscape, but to be cut down and made into an innovative new fuel. In the event of any unrest on Planet Thakland, trees by the thousands could be felled and made into sheets of coloured paper before being folded by schoolchildren to look like little doves of peace and then tossed from planes over rebel areas.

It was rumoured that only two people would benefit from this campaign: one of the leader's brothers, who owned the local pulp factory, and another leader who would sign the contract and get a 10-per-cent commission.

For locals around the forest who were worried about being killed in the event of an enormous fire, their fears could be laid to rest: a whole fleet of un-used fire engines had, decades ago, been imported from a distant planet.

After the forest, the railway line passed over a once-beautiful river that had turned from being a sanctuary for fish and wildlife into a dump for factories to spew out their toxic and chemical waste. Most of these factories were run by local politicians and their big-shot buddies. One day, it was disclosed to the planet's public that the owner of a polluting pig farm near the railway line was the brother-in-law of one the planet's leaders. Distraught at having been found out by a local reporter, the owner was saved by his in-law, who quickly implemented a new environmental policy: all pig waste would be recycled and used to fertilise all the funny-looking trees. The in-law, tired with such policy-making, was compensated for his time and energy in the form of a 10 per cent sales commission.

Further on up the dream railway line was a glorious new temple with a huge meditation arena. The mastermind behind this fabulous project was none other than the culture minister, whose degree was in engineering. The free labour force that built the thing was made up of delinquent technical-college students who had been charged with illegal racing their motorbikes on public streets, and radical university students who didn't agree with the planet's leaders.

One day, the students, not happy at having to work for free, complained that a previous party's idea of building racing circuits for them had never materialised. They were told to shut up and get on with it, first by their boss, the education minister, and secondly by a son of the interior minister who had vast experience in clamping down on lo-so types. Most important of all though, brainwashed previously politically active students could now be controlled. This followed an awful incident in the year 7619 when student protesters and nation-loving vigilantes had clashed. One student had died.

The arena was used by the resident monks to practice Vipassana meditation, but also by the planet's beloved leaders to organise mega meetings to inform the masses about their latest ideas. There was no problem with parking space, as a huge underground car-park had been built beneath the complex.

Once a year, the planet's leader could use the place for a back-to-the-roots reality show, in which he could prove how much of a country boy he really was. The stadium, with its built-in race track, could be used by the leader to zoom around on a motorbike wearing no helmet. It was envisaged that one day the arena may even host an Earth-like Olympic Games or even alien football matches.

Getting to the stadium was a piece of cake; besides the dream railway, eight-lane roads had been built. Unfortunately, for the poor villagers, the roads didn't serve much use; they were built directly past land owned by influential leaders. Before the roads, the land had been quite worthless. The son of one leader, who owned a big construction firm, was delighted at winning the road-building contract and didn't mind having to pay any broker a 10 per cent commission.

Tourism was promoted on Planet Thakland and the leaders established a unique programme to entice the crème-de-la-crème - VIRAs (Very Important Rich Aliens) - to the planet. Members of this elite, for the small fee of a million or so alien banknotes, could stay at VIRA golf courses, and could buy and do almost whatever they wanted on the planet. Unknown to these aliens however, the planet's leaders had to cut down pristine forest and kick out folk who had been living there for generations.

The greatest benefit of all for these VIRAs was the opportunity to sail past smiling immigration officials, who handed back their passports and didn't simply throw them back across the desk. The planet's leaders had once sent these immigration officials on a three-month courtesy and etiquette course … but alas.

It was doubtful that anyone would ever find out the truth about the planet's real leader though. Nicknamed "Big Brother" it was rumoured that he was the one in charge of the great party and was pulling all the political strings. No one ever saw him though, but according to reliable sources he resided in a neighbouring world called Planet Chong Wong.

Stephen Cleary is the co-founder of www.thai-blogs.com.

Stephen Cleary

The Nation