Tuesday, 26 June 2012
The Hermit's Master Plan
As I cogitate between mouthfuls of mouse, I reflect on the demise of the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria, which - in a bygone year - was a paradigm of success, self-sufficiency and sea-biscuit. And events of late only seem to have confirmed that those well-imagined halcyon days of yore are well and truly past. Yet another defeat for the Northumbrian Football Team in the Holy Roman Empire (which is as holy as Nero, Roman as the Pyramids, and is identical to an empire in all respects although entirely different) Football Competition by the hot-headed and excitable Neapolitans has once more re-emphasised the decay of our once proud Anglo-Saxon Realm. Wade Rune - the great twinkle-toed exemplar and High Priest of Football once more hangs his simian head in shame, disgrace and raspberry - along with his equally wealthy and inarticulate peers.
Of course, we should also consider the Northumbrian Kingdom's subservience to the aforementioned political ragbag, coupled with the Great Engineered Credit Catastrophe Crisis (although it has nothing to do with cats), and the slide into penury, debt and greater ignominy, cheerfully precipitated by the politicos and Moneylenders, who have the very best interests of the 'people' (i.e. the politicos and the Moneylenders) at heart.
But that's enough gloom and gloop for this Cat: I bring some tidings of cheer to lift the hearts of the despondent, and to bring a smile to the frown-creased brow. We all need our moments of light relief, and Hermit the Rumphole - the Court Jester-In-Chief to His Elevatedness King Jose Borracho - has not let us down.
He's announced a Great Plan to be executed throughout all the provinces and backwaters of the Empire (whatever) which will solve the Great Debt Crisis at a stroke. He is going to personally appropriate every ducat, penny, Holy Groat and Saturday sixpence from all the oblivious subjects of the Blessed Empire (upon which the sun doesn't shine) and share them all with his friends who languish in poverty in the gorgeous palaces of the Mighty. The logic is quite simple: his idea is to make everyone equally poor so that nobody knows any better...
Sounds like a plan, Rumpo, old son. I can already hear the cheers resounding between the cheeks of the assorted tribes' posteriors throughout the Empire..