In a groundbreaking, if somewhat woolly, approach to workplace wellness, the government has green-lit an initiative that aims to tackle the ever-mounting stress levels among Members of Parliament. Starting this week, the revered halls of Westminster will echo not only with the debates and deliberations of hardworking lawmakers but also with the soft bleating of therapy goats.
Needless to say, the decision has sparked a range of reactions across the political spectrum. Some are hailing the introduction of these four-legged therapists as a bold leap forward in mental health support, while others are questioning whether the idea really has legs… or hooves.
According to insiders, the goat therapy sessions will occur in specially designated “Bleat and Greet” areas where MPs can book appointments to spend some quality time with Parliament’s new additions. These goats, selected for their calm demeanor and fluffy coats, have been expertly trained to provide oscilating levels of tranquility. Lobbyists are now rumoring that MPs are already fighting over coveted time slots.
Cabinet sources reveal that the idea arose during a particularly intense debate over the Budget Plan, when an exasperated MP reportedly exclaimed, “The whole system’s going to heck in a haybasket!” In response, Parliament’s Wellness Committee concluded that the only logical solution was to add a few bales of hay and some goats for good measure.
“The goats have been very well received,” confirmed Sir Goatsby Mutton, Head of the newly-formed Pastoral Wellbeing Department. “We thoroughly vetted each goat for their ability to manage high-stress political environments. In fact, many of them have backgrounds in barnyard diplomacy.”
Already, the goats have even cultivated a fan club, with politicians vying to take selfies with them, proudly uploading photos to social media with the hashtag #BleatTheStress. One particularly exuberant MP, seen lounging with a goat named Gerald during the lunch break, even claimed, “Gerald for Prime Minister!” though it’s unclear whether this was a joke or a spontaneous policy proposal.
Unsurprisingly, there are critics. “Total billy-goat soup,” shouted one detractor, “This is not what the taxpayers’ money should be spent on!” To which Sir Goatsby calmly responded, “They said the same thing about yoga and quinoa. Look at us now — thriving!”
Aside from soothing nerves, these goats seem to be promoting cross-party cooperation. Witnesses recently reported seeing MPs from opposing parties exchanging surprisingly cordial nods as they waited in line for their goat cuddling sessions, united, if only temporarily, beneath the banner of bovidae-based bliss.
The next big question on everyone’s lips: will other institutions follow in Parliament’s hoofprints? There’s already talk of goat therapy branching out into mainstream sectors, with corporations eager to hire Ottomans for emotional support.
Whether or not the goats will manage to bring sanity back into the world of politics remains an open question. But for now, at least, the goats of Westminster stand as unlikely ambassadors of peace and pasture, capturing hearts and capturing hilarious headlines — one bleat at a time.