At Consigliere University, calamity is never a failure — it is a branding opportunity.

The senior team proudly subscribes to a motto known the world over: “No Reverse Gear, We Double Down.”

What begins as a minor workplace incident — the sort most institutions resolve quietly over an afternoon — is instead elevated into a million-pound court case. Not because the issue is complex, but because resolution would require the one thing the University refuses to provide: admitting it might have been wrong.

Mistakes are not corrected, they are fortified. Evidence, no matter how glaring, is recast as a matter of interpretation. If a favoured professor encounters a difficulty, reports are commissioned to dilute or dismiss the facts, conclusions are turned upside down, and Wonderland logic prevails.

At Consigliere, the institutional instinct is simple: if challenged, escalate; if exposed, deny; if cornered, spend more and more money until the problem becomes too expensive for anyone to question.

Communications operate on a doctrine of controlled aggression. Dissenters are verbally dismantled, at volume. The strategy is clear: intimidate the narrative into submission and hope the facts lose confidence along the way. It is one of the few areas in which the once-brilliant Consigliere University can still claim world-leading status.

Leadership achieves a paradox. Alice, the Vice-Chancellor, is both omnipresent and absent — a distant, unavailable presence, even when physically in the room. The senior team beneath her resembles an academic ghost town, with key roles unfilled for months or years because no candidate is ever deemed sufficiently exceptional to join the party. The March Hare, the Mad Hatter and the Dormouse run the show with confident aplomb. Decision-making becomes less a process and more a prolonged stalemate, punctuated by bursts of expensive urgency when matters spiral.

And yet, through it all, the motto endures: “No Reverse Gear — We Double Down.”

At Consigliere University, this is not resilience; it is doctrine. Small problems are nurtured into crises, crises are escalated into calamities, and accountability is treated as something best handled by their lawyers — who, it must be said, are doing very well indeed for themselves. The result is an institution that does not collapse so much as it continually reinvents the conditions for its own catastrophes: well-funded, supremely confident and entirely convinced it is doing an excellent job, while the staff (and the rest of the world) look on in quiet wonder.

At Consigliere, as it lurches from crisis to crisis, the senior team are confident that the problems lie with the managed, not the management.

As the March Hare snapped at the close of yet another emergency senior management meeting, “If it’s failing, we simply haven’t doubled down hard enough.” Alice, without looking up, added: “And if it collapses entirely, we shall call it a “Reimagining Consigliere University” — and commission a report confirming our success.”

Ah, Serious craziness. Just a fable. Consigliere University does not exist.