Differently The Same...

Every soothsayer of note in the lovely realm of Northumbria is talking about The Anniversary. It's now One Whole Year since the Tree-Liberationist Alliance decisively swept to power in the National Witangemot and delivered the Kingdom from the Powers of Redistributionist Darkness under the malevolent, magic mushroom-intoxicated sway of Guthmund The Brown - the world-saving Bankrupter-In-Chief.

Some of the soothsayers - for example Beeby See and her pustule-faced cousin Guardy-Ann - have been claiming that the past year has been an Unmitigated Disaster. One of the reasons for this pronouncement of damnation is the fact that the Alliance administration has imposed Severe Cuts to the public purse; consequently, hovel improvement pack officers, diversity administrators, carbon-neutral petshop co-ordinators, pigeon psychiatrists, fish quota accountants and other feckless drawers of worthwhile salaries and pensions have been cast into the Outer Darkness of the jobseeking hordes. The Strongholds of The Wicked have been torn down. Nearly.

In the woes pronounced by these soothsayers, the entire basis for Civilised Society has been destroyed by the malicious, brutal and heartless Tree-led Alliance, who are imposing their own agenda on the Kingdom under the pretense that there's a financial crisis that doesn't really exist. Alas, alack. Pass the champagne, magic mushrooms and handkerchiefs, Parly Toywasp...

Even more traditionally sympathetic soothsayers are failing to lavish paeons of praise upon the nouveau régime. Dellimell - one with a usually hysterical and effusive disposition in favour of the Trees - has taken a lot of trouble to highlight the divisions and differences between the disparate Alliance factions and their Revered Leaders.

So - what difference has a year really made?

For a start, we're no longer delighted by the brooding and cheerless countenance of the psychotic Guthmund The Brown. The effect of his demeanour upon the realm was as refreshing and as welcome as an outbreak of the Bubonic Plague. The relief of not having to see his physiognomy is enormous. This must not be underestimated.

Also, it must be said that our beloved Leaders are no longer taking out enormous loans from unscrupulous loan-sharks and spending it on frivolous social projects designed to boost the odds of re-election for Redistributionist politicos. The Alliance is still spending groats, however. But I don't know where this money comes from; my master Caedmon suggested that it's only silly groats, stamped with King Alhfrith's gnarled profile - and fundamentally worthless. But there seems to be enough of this worthless stuff around to enable the Kingdom to assist the Realm of Ireland in its hour of need. We're regularly told that we're peering over the abyss, but it seems to my feline mind that we're leaping into it in an attempt to try and catch those who leaped over the edge ahead of us...

Apart from that, we have an administration that's beset by corruption and internal fighting, that starts wars in foreign parts and still pays homage to King Jose Borracho - the power-intoxicated Emperor and Senior Flyswatter of the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire) and his faithful slave Hermit. It's widely rumoured that all new laws passed by the Witangemot are simply the same ones dictated and directed from the Sinister Empire over the other side of the Channel.

Happy Birthday, Caedmeron and Clegge. You're doing a great job. When I work out the essential difference between you and your predecessors, I'll celebrate by eating Edweird The Milliner's socks. I'm wanting to live dangerously...