Trouble In Alliance Paradise

What with Húne - known as 'Horehound' and all of the intrigue around his alleged misdemeanours - along with those of deposed luminary Claws - the Alliance is having more than its fair share of troubles. You can't imagine the tears I've shed for them all in these last few days. Well, I suppose you can: cats don't weep, so none. ;-)

What has made Caedmeron's day even worse is his Witangemot Supremo Clerk for Justice - a rotund, bumptious buffoon with a dismissive, devil-may-care attitude to life and the price of fish. Frankly, I'm surprised he's stayed in the job as long as he has, given his outstanding track record for talking complete gibberish.

The Supreme Clerk was speaking with a Beeby See lackey today, and the subject came up about rather unsavoury kinds of personal assault - which I will henceforth refer to as Pulling Legs Off Poor Spiders (PLOPS), since it requires the perpetrator to be of a similarly heartless and moronic disposition.

I fail to see how anyone can be minded to pull wings off butterflies or pull legs off poor spiders, but the reality in a fallen world is that certain specimens of quasi-humanity do commit such things, and the poor victims are left with a terrible emotional and physical legacy - a cost which has also to be borne by their loved ones. I'm very relieved that there's such a thing as Divine Retribution.

Anyway. A poor female victim of a PLOPS assault asked the Supreme Clerk about sentencing in view of the proposed changes in prison terms for such evildoers. It appears that there are so many old ladies who permit their dogs to pass brown political comment in the streets, and the prisons are unable to cope with the number of them awaiting justice, so the length of incarceration for serious offenders needs to be reduced to allow the real criminals to be punished.

And the old joker started waffling about 'classic' PLOPS attacks - and attempting to make a distinction between various forms of this nasty assault. The lady was in tears as the old fool dug himself deeper into his hole of stupidity. I swear I heard the sound of boiling blood throughout the Kingdom of Northumbria. And the sharpening of blades. Edweird the Milliner has awoken from his magic mushroom-induced slumbers and has smelt blood.

Caedmeron - I think you've got your work cut out, old son. My fellow moggies and my mate Feaxede could do an infinitely better job than some of the feckless clowns you seem to want to employ.. and all they want in return for remuneration is daily fish suppers and chicken dinners. It would solve the deficit problem overnight. Go home and think about it, there's a good lad... you know it makes sense.