Caedmon was an early English Christian poet who lived in Whitby in the 7th century. The writer of this blog has no pretensions to such exalted gifts, and for this reason (as well as the fact that the name has already been taken) has chosen his Cat. They say that a cat can look at a king; this cat certainly does that. He's also had a good Christian education from his master, and he's quite prepared to use it when necessary.
Friday, 13 January 2012
What's In A Name?
Despite the impression you may have received from my numerous previous postings, the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria isn't as idyllic as you might fondly imagine. Things are actually turning very ugly here, as the illiberally liberal Northumbrian culture - fed by millennia of malevolent, magic mushroom-fuelled Redistributionist thought - tightens its vice-like grip around the throats of the public.
Recently, a small-time local Tree politico complained that members of the local community who were attending the village Witangemot meeting were 'idiots.' This caused a great deal of controversy, resulting in the sound of ploughshares being beaten into swords resounding through the Realm, as Redistributionist zombies woke up from their catatonic state and seized their opportunity to wage warfare. The bodycount from the resulting skirmishes has yet to be released into the public domain..
The term 'idiot' - in colloquial Northumbrian parlance - is commonly used as a term of endearment, used particularly by children to their siblings and friends, mothers to their children, and wives to their husbands. It's a harmless word without any sinister connotations, although it may technically be applied to certain humans who - through no fault of their own - have been endowed with less than their fair share of intelligence and social skills. Such people are mostly harmless and charming but dependent characters, who are usually very kind and affectionate to cats and dogs. Some of my best idiots are friends..
Following his remark, the unfortunate Tree politico was seized by the local Costumed Thug unit, and with thirty thousand spears to encourage him, he was frogmarched to the Moot, where he was tried before the Magistrate, who subjected him to a severe reprimand and sentenced him to compulsory attendance of a Diversity Clinic, where he will be subjected to limb-lengthening exercises, carried out on a table by Viking homeopathic dwarfs. He'll be unrecognisable when he emerges... if he emerges..
But I've been caused to wonder - what did this poor man do to deserve such savagery? From all accounts, the members of the public who were grandstanding at the local Witangemot meeting were fuelled up with mead, and were solely there there for some entertainment, and were throwing breadcrusts with some degree of accuracy at their representatives, and braying incoherently. They were behaving like ...er... idiots. I really don't know why calling them thus warranted such a response. After all, this sort of thing happens all the time in the national one, and although Edweird the Milliner really is an idiot - and has been called one on various occasions - no one has actually been carted off in ignominy and disgrace yet. Even Caedmeron referred to Edweird the Spheres as a turd - and despite apologising to all bona fide scatological statements who may have been offended, his position is intact - and he hasn't been obliged to attend a Diversity Clinic…
I just don't get it. Did he get castigated for telling the truth?
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