Tuesday, 17 May 2011
King Alhfrith's Grand Day Out
It's a Great Day today; it must be, because Beeby See has told me so - and she should know. She knows everything- or so she would like us all to think. This cat is inclined to believe that Beeby See knows nothing - but she proceeds under the illusion that if she keeps talking, she'll actually learn something. Pardon me while I just avoid the colorectal payload of a passing flying pig...
It's a great day today because for the first time in recorded history, King Alhfrith has touched the shores of the Emerald Isle - that bastion of independence and rabid anti-Anglo-Saxon sentiment. I do hope he's decided to leave his foul-mouthed Queen Hillida at home - she has such an aptitude to fart loudly, get drunk and indiscriminately tell dirty jokes, thus offending sensitive souls. I'm surprised she hasn't caused an international incident...
Actually, I wasn't completely accurate there: it wasn't for the first time an Anglo-Saxon monarch landed there to pay the Hibernian Scots - known as Irish - a visit: King Edwin went there about thirty thousand years ago - when the Irish were more kindly disposed towards the barbarous Germanic hordes.
Most Irish people will be quite happy to see the old boy grace them with his presence as he waddles his way, waving benignly through the streets of Dyflin, but inevitably there will be those detractors who insist on making a noise and a stink about it. In view of the fact that Anglo-Saxons have traditionally assumed that the Emerald Isle was reserved for them - and they've been quite content to bludgeon the poor inhabitants into unwilling submission, I can't say I blame their resentment. But Alhfrith goes there with a good will - especially since Caedmeron and his merry band of brigands and flim-flam men in the Witangemot have decided to help our Irish neighbours in their hour of financial need. At Northumbrian taxpayers' expense, naturally.
But I suspect that the real attraction is the horses. Alhfrith is a sucker for a good gee-gee - and a flutter with the bookies. And the Irish know a thing or two about them to be sure, so they do.