Since their ignominious bell, book and candle dismissal from Yorvik Minster, the Child Protesters against fleas, flies and fevers as well as Big Groat Enterprises have decamped and re-emerged elsewhere in Northumbria's principal settlement. They're somebody else's headache now. Frankly, I don't care; as long as they're not mine.
It's been quite a revelation to witness their bleary-eyed and hung-over arrival en masse - early in the morning - to dismantle their temporary shelters, having returned to the Minster from the comfort and warmth of their homes and sleeping arrangements - not to mention fresh underwear and their bedtime stories.. Bless.
Nevertheless, their amorphous campaign and nebulous posturing has continued undaunted, and I hear that they succeeded in finding someone of their number who was unfortunate enough to be gifted with the skill of literacy. What astonishingly good fortune!
Consequently, they've united their disparate voices on a sheet of vellum, and moreover, drafted a letter of demands in a barely readable script, which they've then ceremonially presented to the Evil Moneylenders and market traders in the Yorvik commercial district. Having read it, I can reveal that their communication states:
Wee, the ninty nin precent of the peeple of this Relm, mayke the folowing dimands:
- The Big Grote bizneses own most of the munny. Wee don't fink thats fare. You shud shaire it out with uss. Havnt you got a conshens?
- The trayders in this kwarter hav there own sovrin stayt and they can do wattever they like. Wee want them to liv like us pore peeple and folow the saym rulls as uss.
- This afour sed kwarter hav there own costoomed thug fource. Wee want it to be part ov the Yorvik konstablery.
- Can you pleeze eksercise your charitabble mussel and giv uz sum magic mushrooms? Ta everso.
The ninty nin precent.
I must admit, I'm mightily impressed by the reasonableness of their demands (which display a high degree of intelligence and lateral thinking, not to mention sensitivity and diplomacy) - as well as the literary ability of their scribe. I wish I had such grammatical prowess... But I'm only a little white household cat - and I've never been to the Big School..
Having carefully read - and subsequently translated and digested - the contents of the protesters' epistle, I'm also sure that the market traders and high-ranking magnates of the Moneylending institutions will experience a crisis of conscience.
Intimidated by the ominous presence of the temporarily-sheltered bongo beaters, the overpowering fragrance of dog breath, canine colorectal statements and the deafening cascade of indifference from the Northumbrian public - they'll willingly and wholeheartedly concede and comply with every point.
Mark well my words. You read them here.