Tuesday, 29 May 2012
Monday, 28 May 2012
Wednesday, 23 May 2012
Here in the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria, the temperature is really heating up, and the weather is also going through a warm spell (but that's another story).
Dagwald Caedmeron – the Exalted Master, Queen of the Fairies, Pontifex Maximus and Premier Dancing Bear of the Tree/Liberationist Alliance Administration - has been under some considerable pressure from the distant shores of the Holy Roman Empire (which bears not even the slightest resemblance to anything of a sanctified nature, and certainly doesn't look like, smell, walk or quack like an empire).
In common with all the pseudo-nobility and apparatchiks of the aforesaid cancerous political growth, the Empress of the Holy Roman Empire Empty Treasure Chest – a certain Redistributionist Frankish woman called Laggard La Grise – has been pontificating over the state and the general direction of the Northumbrian Kingdom. Oh, woe, woe, thrice woe business, biscuit and thing. As a self-taught expert in the culture, life and times of our beloved Realm, she of all people is eminently qualified to keep her own addled, magic mushroom-fuelled and pathologically misguided counsel. But malheureusement, she didn't, and Caddy Boy and his faithful side-kick and fellow-illusionist Oswine (who has the onerous task of managing the Kingdom's negative economy and increasing debt) have been at the receiving end of her barbed criticism regarding their maladroit handling of the Northumbrian reins.
So far, Caddy Boy has kept a resolutely straight course, and hasn't deviated to the right or to the left from his predetermined tactics. (Well – that's not strictly true: he actually changed his mind seventeen thousand times regarding policy decisions. But never mind.) There was no contingency arrangement as a safety net alternative. No Plan B.
This obduracy on Caddy Boy's part has been a constant source of prickly heat, irritation and pestilence to the Redistributionists of the Kingdom, who under the skillful and ever-victorious tutelage of their convincing and youthful mentor Edweird the Milliner have constantly – from the comfort of their zero-responsibility, authority-free zones – carped, parped and harped on at Caddy and his pals about adopting their recommended course. You know it makes sense. Chew, chew. Pass some more fly agaric, please.
Little do these dunderheads realise that their bizarre solutions would incur even more poverty, debt, misery and thing. And their outcome would be no more certain than the one from the present strategy.
Despite the Redistributionists' hip, cool and terminally trendy recommendations, Anglebert Gimperdonck - the bejewelled ancient songster from the bowels of Leire's Kingdom will continue to represent our lovely Kingdom in the Holy Roman Empire Song Contest. And there's nothing that Eddy and his silly little playmates can do about it…
Friday, 18 May 2012
Thursday, 17 May 2012
Dagwald Caedmeron – the Sacred Primate, Pontifex Maximus and Dearly Beloved Leader of the Tree Faction and the Supreme Governor of the Tree/Liberationist Alliance Administration – has made a Momentous Declaration today in support of the debt-ridden, flea-bitten, poverty-stricken Kingdom of Greece.
In view of the current instability of that benighted realm – where the people can't decide which ruler to choose because they're too busy fighting each other or merely trying to survive on their ever-dwindling means – this intervention by the Northumbrian Glorious Prophet is very timely. I'm sure they're all now breathing a collective sigh of relief. Hooray for Caddy – this minute's mighty deliverer of the Holy Roman economy!
In his inspired address to his adoring, knuckle-dragging and window-licking acolytes, the holy man declared that the poor people of Greece must be supported by the Northumbrian people – along with those of the Frankish, Westphalian, Viking and other ethnic groupings which comprise that diverse ragtag ragbag of mutually hostile tribes referred to as the Holy Roman Empire (which, of course, is anything but holy, Roman or an empire).
In view of the seventy zillion billion trillions of Holy Groats which comprise the total debt of the Northumbrian Kingdom's economy – not to mention the aggregate debts of the other heathen kingdoms - this Cat is most intrigued. Since when has a despot of the Tree Faction – a political grouping traditionally pathologically responsible with money and in constant fear, dread and loathing of debt, decided that he can fight another kingdom's debt (and conquer it, to boot) with even more debt, insolvency and biscuit? Where did he get that notion from?
I suspect that Caddy Boy has been hanging round with Redistributionists, and has been taking secret counsel from Edweird the Milliner over a few magic mushrooms.
What these politicos don't seem to realise is that the hallucinogenic fungi don't actually enhance their perceptions and understanding at all. They turn them into monkeys.
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
These are certainly glorious days for the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire). One could almost declare that they're dog days – where the term 'dog' refers to an odious, noisy, malodorous, halitosis-ridden, flea-bitten creature with the refinement of a cowpat.
With the escalating financial problems encouraged by King of the Midden Emperor Jose Borracho, his faithful half-witted accomplice Hermit the Rumphole – along with their myriads of courtiers, lickspittles, camp followers and hangers-on, the Evil Intergalactic Empire is experiencing some hiccups – if not a severe dose of acid reflux; the Kingdom of the Hellenes is in a state of turmoil, as they're unable to select a monarch to lead them, and the ordinary Greek citizens are getting cheesed off with being driven into grinding and spiralling poverty, debt and rhubarb by the Holy Public Expenditure Cuts imposed by the Empire, and are threatening to abandon the cherished but worthless Holy Roman Empire Ducat in favour of their ancient currency, the drachma.
However, there's a silver lining to this dark and foreboding cloud. In every tragedy there's an element of comedy and sparkling irony. Yesterday, the new Frankish monarch Frankus of Holland was anointed, appointed, sworn in (as well as at), accompanied by great pomp, splendor and malarkey. How the people cheered! But the attending Northumbrian emissaries sadly couldn't understand the loud acclamation of the new King, since the crowds insisted on cheering in the Frankish tongue. Quel dommage, hein?
In his enthronement address, the new monarch stated that he would be concentrating on growth in the Kingdom rather than the despised austerity measures recommended by the Westphalian Empress Murk, who was a great confidante and knitting companion of the previous diminutive King Sarcus.
I'm sure that the growth to which this new potentate refers won't be even sniffed at by his adoring subjects. It'll all go to his pocket – and, of course, his waistline…