Well, the day of my departure to my ancestral territory hasn't happened; I can only suppose that May Trees and her little playmates have either forgotten about their original intentions, or perhaps they've simply lost interest, and directed their miniscule attention spans elsewhere. Or perhaps the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria doesn't have a deportation arrangement with Catastan, Kittistan, Moggistan, or whatever the damn place is called; I don't know, and I certainly don't care.
Just to be certain though, I did check with Lareow - friend of Rats and Holy Emperor and Chief Panjandram of the Caedmeron Mousing Ministry, and he hadn't heard anything either. So the good news we've deduced from this is that I've been spared! When I joyfully told my master Caedmon, he rolled his eyes. He didn't believe it was going to happen in the first place.
One little pearl of consolation after all the grief and heartache this has brought me is that several legions of knuckle-dragging minions of the Northumbrian soothsayer and pantomime dame Beeby See are going to be presented with career opportunities in that familiar Northumbrian pastime called idleness. This cruel twist of circumstance has arisen allegedly because of the terrible financial mess the Kingdom is in; there isn't anything like enough money to feed the Beeby beast any more, since the Moneylenders are sitting on it all, and the overtaxed and rapidly shrinking population of Northumbrian wage-earners isn't bringing in enough of the unholy groats to sustain greedy Beeby's burgeoning empire. It's such a shame. But never mind.
At least - by way of consolation - the lovely Beeby still has intact her seventy thousand layers of managers, diversity commissars, homeopathy policy consultants, magic mushroom purveyors, professional humanists, climate change priests, luvvie slebs and apologists for the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire). I'm sure they'll be more than willing to lift their ample posteriors from their seats and take to their longboats, horses and carts to bring in some news to entertain their unemployed erstwhile underlings.. Hard times, indeed.
Just to be certain though, I did check with Lareow - friend of Rats and Holy Emperor and Chief Panjandram of the Caedmeron Mousing Ministry, and he hadn't heard anything either. So the good news we've deduced from this is that I've been spared! When I joyfully told my master Caedmon, he rolled his eyes. He didn't believe it was going to happen in the first place.
One little pearl of consolation after all the grief and heartache this has brought me is that several legions of knuckle-dragging minions of the Northumbrian soothsayer and pantomime dame Beeby See are going to be presented with career opportunities in that familiar Northumbrian pastime called idleness. This cruel twist of circumstance has arisen allegedly because of the terrible financial mess the Kingdom is in; there isn't anything like enough money to feed the Beeby beast any more, since the Moneylenders are sitting on it all, and the overtaxed and rapidly shrinking population of Northumbrian wage-earners isn't bringing in enough of the unholy groats to sustain greedy Beeby's burgeoning empire. It's such a shame. But never mind.
At least - by way of consolation - the lovely Beeby still has intact her seventy thousand layers of managers, diversity commissars, homeopathy policy consultants, magic mushroom purveyors, professional humanists, climate change priests, luvvie slebs and apologists for the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire). I'm sure they'll be more than willing to lift their ample posteriors from their seats and take to their longboats, horses and carts to bring in some news to entertain their unemployed erstwhile underlings.. Hard times, indeed.
there isn't anything like enough money to feed the Beeby beast any more, since the Moneylenders are sitting on it all
ReplyDeleteAnd the money-grubbers.