Retribution

My insomnia problem remains, I'm very sad to say. All I can rely on is cat-naps to sustain me through the day, as the maddening noise of bolting horses and ensuing sound of slamming stable-doors continues apace.

Here in the lovely country of Northumbria, we've also been gifted with the incessant droning of the politicos, and the subject matter hasn't changed for some considerable time. Still, it's my belief that it's only a matter of time before the entire sorry circus moves on, as the virtuous ruling elite and their cretinous soothsaying companions succumb to boredom and fatigue; the flogging of a dead horse only provides momentary interest. But until such a blissful prospect enters our temporal horizon, we're given daily glimpses into the Steely Resolve of the Northumbrian Establishment to inflict Punishment. Real Punishment.

Even as I write, the Moots of the Kingdom have been operating round the cycle of the day, processing the mucus-encrusted and acne-ridden miscreants unfortunate enough to have been apprehended in a leisurely fashion by the craven Costumed Thugs. The judges have been working shifts, and they pour into the taverns and mead-houses when their grim work is done, while other colleagues take their places for the evening shift. The crimes of the accused consist of every possible combination of theft, arson, assault, criminal damage and trespass, in varying degrees of seriousness. Already, those who committed the minor offences have been meted their just deserts. We were recently treated to the public hanging of a pimpled youth who had stolen a flagon of water. Be amazed, O heavens. The populace was certainly cheered by such harshness, after Caedmeron - shrewdly reading the mood of the Docile and the Bovine - sent the clear and unmistakeable signal that there must be a Zero Tolerance policy towards such disgraceful behaviour. Whatever.

Even those who've sent messages to their friends suggesting a riotous party haven't escaped the Long Arm of Northumbrian Law. One young scallywag issued a note to his cronies, suggesting that they assemble for a water-fight. His head now adorns a pole.

Those responsible for more serious misconduct - assault, arson and murder - have been sentenced to several minutes, hours or days in the local gaol, where they've been obliged to keep company with the less desirable elements of our social landscape - cat burglars, serial cereal killers, those who pull wings off butterflies and - horribile dictu - elderly ladies, who've permitted their tripe-hounds to deposit fecal hundreds-and-thousands on the pavements of the Realm. The authorities evidently want to inflict maximum pain.

It seems strange to me that a generation of unprincipled, lawless bandits and thieves - saturated with a sense of their own entitlement, pig-ignorant, arrogant and intoxicated by their own overinflated self-importance should commit such atrocities for their own self-gratification. But that's what our political classes are like. And their sense of proportional justice is hardly going to be balanced when it comes to dealing with an underclass of greedy blackhead-adorned adolescents who are only following their example, is it?