Tuesday, 29 March 2011

Flying, Lying and Crying Hughie

Another exciting incident that saturated my little feline head this weekend was the news about Guthmund The Brown - previous Chief Psychotic of the Redistributionist Faction and former Pontifex Maximus and Bankrupter of the Northumbrian Witangemot.

Since his demotion to the ranks of ordinary Witangemot representative, Guthmund hasn't been idle; he's been working hard on his memoirs, which will doubtless be the usual farrago of fantasies and evasions that politicians of self-significance like to publish for the entertainment of their window-licking admirers. I've often wondered why they bother writing them, but apparently there are enough idiots literate and (paradoxically) stupid enough to purchase their vellum tomes and read them to make the enterprise worthwhile. Some of them recite extensively from them at parties. They are not popular people, and they frequently receive sharp blows to their kneecaps.

But that isn't all that Guthmund has been doing. Not content to merely feather his own nest with the ill-gotten royalties of his seedy and fantastic tales, he's also been travelling throughout the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman or an empire) giving pompous lectures to those who are deranged enough to take him seriously (which usually means people of a similar psychopathic ilk). Again, this must be an attractively lucrative business, since he's only put in at the most a couple of appearances at the Witangemot since the Tree/Liberationist Alliance took office. Move 'em out - move 'em up. I feel sorry for his constituents, who must feel like orphaned puppies, pining for their mother. Whatever.

I hear that on a wagon journey from one of his money-grubbing bore-fests, a heavily pregnant young mother-to-be was asked to yield her comfortable seat to Guthmund by one of the sycophantic heavies who are hired to guard him (at taxpayers' expense, of course). The poor woman subsequently was obliged to sit in some uncomfortable seat above the axle of the cart, and consequently was hear to be gagging and heaving periodically. I do hope that Guthmund wasn't too distressed by the sounds and smells of puking. Poor chap.

Heartwarming stuff, isn't it, people? It restores one's faith in human nature... Bless.

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