Oh, the places you'll never go!
An overt ploy to do something utterly pointless with your misery
The nation of Wibblethorpe was widely regarded (by itself at least) as the most sensible country in the known universe because it had gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure that nothing whatsoever ever happened there.
This was not an accident. Wibblethorpe had a strict adherence to the conventional path unofficially known as Don’t Be Weird. If a thing had been done before, do it again. If a thing had never been done before, report it immediately to the Department of Path Enforcement, where it could be safely ignored.
Wibblethorpians told stories about themselves that were so safe and predictable that no one could possibly misunderstand them because there was nothing to understand. They were short, smooth, and devoid of any inconvenient layers of meaning. In one particularly popular tale, a man walked to the bakery, bought bread, and walked home. It was hailed as a triumph of narrative restraint. The sequel, in which the man bought slightly different bread, was banned for being too experimental.
This brings us to the gravest offense in Wibblethorpe which is asking only approved questions. “Would you like another cup of tea?” was perfectly fine. But questions like “Why do we do it this way?” and “Do you ever wonder…?” were classified as Category 9 Uncertainties, punishable by immediate banishment to Elsewhere which was said to contain forests, oceans, and other deeply suspicious phenomena.
Naturally, all artists, musicians, and authors with any interest in mystery were put on the first bus to Elsewhere. This was done with impeccable politeness because Wibblethorpe prided itself on being nice. Afterall, care was taken very seriously, though it was difficult to tell whether compassion meant wrapping the entire population in metaphorical bubble wrap and never letting them leave the house.
The state provided regulated comfort programs, which involved telling citizens precisely how to feel at any given time, thus sparing them the horror of emotional deviation. Love was banned outright, as it was deemed unpredictable, demanding, and not subject to committee oversight.
Meaning was quietly retired from public life, replaced with a warm, beige sort of safety. This safety was so complete that even the weather was required to submit a monthly forecast to the Ministry of Okay-ish Variations, which approved only moderate conditions. By the time the sun stopped rising, most Wibblethorpians agreed it was for the best as sunrises had always been a bit obtrusive and this way the afternoons could start earlier.
Some say in hushed tones that exiled artists will one day return, smuggling in dangerous things like metaphors, curiosity, and unpopular shades of orange. And when that happens, Wibblethorpe will either rediscover what it had lost or declare life too much of a risk and politely decline.