Since I last posted, the foetid winds of Redistributionism have been continuing to proceed from the anus of the Northumbrian Kingdom. Last week saw the Redistributionist Faction's Annual Unfortunates' Outing And Picnic, and the faithful assembled to hear their new taskmasters, and to imbibe their words of wisdom. The highlight of the week was the appearance of their new and unlikely new chieftain, Crowbane the Druid, who, like some demented Moses offered them a hallucinogenic vision of their new promised destination – a land flowing with free magic mushrooms and biscuit, where the goddess Equality could be served unhindered, with the worshippers in this bizarre Jerusalem waited on by an underclass of slaves captured from the Tree Faction.
These visions are by no means the first of this kind to be offered to the Redistributionist faithful; each previous Leader has also offered similar promises and held his audience in raptured, open-gobbed silence. Tondvig the Blur held out similar prospects, and at the start of his tenure showed some modest promise of achieving his dream – until he started to tell the Kingdom porky pies about the Levantine despot Sadman, who, according to the Blur's reliable report, had catapults capable of sending fireballs to Northumbria. This little fabrication fooled the entire Kingdom into a pointless war and sounded the death-knell for Tondvig's reign, which he deftly handed over to Guffmund the Brown, a cheery psychopath who endeared himself to the Northumbrians by his bellowing voice and easy-going manner. After Guffo's tenure of the Sacred Office, the reigns went to Edweird the Milliner, who similarly offered sweet dreams of paradise, but who was socially awkward and inept to the point where he couldn't eat a hedgehog pie without looking strange. His nasal speeches included detailed weather reports, and those seated in the front row were suitably provided with towels.
And now the mantle falls on a flatulent ancient druid priest with no previous experience of political office, who hitherto has quietly conducted his cultic business in the shadows. His aged appearance and shabby robes and beard have elevated him to the status of a sadhu in the eyes of his followers, and his shambling presence has excited not only the soothsayers but also members of the Northumbrian public, who have paid their Holy Groats to join the Faction in dozens and place garlands of flowers around his picture. And the entire Faction has fallen into the illusion that their Great Leader can bring them to their sought-after place of power in the Prime Seat of the Witangemot. It's all so very sad.
Indeed, they're so energised by their newly-fed illusions that many of them have descended on the venue for the Tree Faction's Annual Unfortunates' Outing And Picnic, and, purportedly in protest at the cuts in public sinecures, arboreal sculptures, diversity co-ordinators, pigeon psychologists and benefits, are giving the younger delegates the benefit of their salivatory and urinary opinions. This will certainly endear the Redistributionists to the hearts of the Northumbrian electorate. Crowbane is really going places. In a downward direction, that is...
Crowbane sat upon the throne. The mystic words were chanted: “there’s a queue, you know”, whereupon Crowbane re-joined the masses in the body of the pub. All present sang the ancient song in which it is said that Redistributionists swear fealty to the Kingdom of the Bears.
ReplyDeleteAnd Crowbane did leave in haste, in order to attend a ritual called a “demo”.
A “demo” is where rich Redistributionists gather in crowds to complain that the King is not a Redistributionist. They signify their purity by writing powerful magic spells on boards, which they wave about on the end of poles. The spells are called “slogans”, and are written in big letters so that people with bad eyesight can read them. Nobody knows why, since the slogans rarely make sense.
The Demonstrators believe that their magic spells will “make the world a better place”.
The Demonstrators try to attract the attention of demons called “the Blue Meanies”. Sometimes the Demonstrators fight with the Blue Meanies and are taken away. Many say afterwards that they had been forced to take part in a ritual called “falling down the stairs at the station”. This is said loudest by those who have never seen the ritual. This is an ancient Redistributionist custom.
If the Demonstrators tire themselves out, the Blue Meanies make them boil water, presumably so that they can make tea. This is an ancient English custom.
Sometimes there is a “counter-demo”. This is a crowd of people from a different faction. They have their own magic spells and slogans. They believe that the magic spells of the demonstrators will “make the Kingdom a worse place”.
These people are called many names.
The magic spells and slogans fight to see which is the strongest.
After the demo, Crowbane began to replace the Brave Sir Robin impressionists with his own men. And women. But obviously not in the really important jobs.
First to be dubbed was The Witchfinder General. He is a man who is “built like a brick outhouse”. This means that he is full of muscles, even in his head. He is feared by all, especially those Redistributionists who fail to see the magic money tree. This is because they do not eat enough magic mushrooms.
Some have said that those who had defied The Witchfinder General were forced to eat the food of the Northumbrian Herbalist Service, as an Example To All.
The Witchfinder General could not avoid talking to the Michaels who work for the BBC. He denied his Faith in the Human Sacrifices and magic shamrocks of Seamus O’Semtex, which all knew he had preached for many years. The Michaels did not know on which side their bread was going to be buttered.
Second to be dubbed was the Chief Voodoo Doctor. All of the factions have Voodoo Doctors. They turn round quickly on one spot without getting dizzy or falling over. This is a Special Skill. Their rituals make Bad Things disappear into nothing. Sometimes they make Good Things appear from nothing. Ordinary people must never try to do this because it will damage their brains. When this happens they are cut into slices. Then they are taken to a place called a “secure ward” and are never seen in public again.
ReplyDeleteThose of the Redistributionist faction who rambled upon Red Sea were not happy with the new dubbings. They claimed that the dubbed were playing a nasty game
called “Aunty Semites”. In this game a “Free Palestine” is given to The Winner. The highest scorer so far was a man who caused a lot of trouble by inventing something called “World War 2”. He only used one ball and was not allowed to play any more after he got it stuck in a bunker.
Many Redistributionists believe that all Red Sea Strollers are secret followers of Bob Marley and his music of Zion. This is “racist”, but not when Redistributionists say it. This is because Redistributionists have a magic power called “Political Correctness”, which means that they are always nice and can never be “racist” or “Aunty Semites”.
The new Lords of the Redistributionist faction are devotees of Groucho Marx and his Brothers, despite having no sense of humour. The old Redistributionist Leaders also claimed to like the comedies of Marx but they did not like the pictures being only in Black and White. This is why they Had To Go.
Meanwhile in the Tree House there was great sadness, and all could be seen sobbing pathetically. Some were rolling on the floor clutching their sides, while others were leaning against the bar to stop themselves from falling over. None could speak clearly through their tears, although it was hard to tell the difference.
Many hours later the Tree-ists had regained some self-control. But then their Numerologists started a mystical chant, counting upwards from two thousand and twenty in units of five. Many commanded the Numerologists to stop, saying that the chanting was hurting their ribs too much.
Thank you. And there's more:
ReplyDeleteSecond to be dubbed was the Chief Voodoo Doctor. All of the factions have Voodoo Doctors. They turn round quickly on one spot without getting dizzy or falling over. This is a Special Skill. Their rituals make Bad Things disappear into nothing. Sometimes they make Good Things appear from nothing. Ordinary people must never try to do this because it will damage their brains. When this happens they are cut into slices. Then they are taken to a place called a “secure ward” and are never seen in public again.
Those of the Redistributionist faction who rambled upon Red Sea were not happy with the new dubbings. They claimed that the dubbed were playing a nasty game
called “Aunty Semites”. In this game a “Free Palestine” is given to The Winner. The highest scorer so far was a man who caused a lot of trouble by inventing something called “World War 2”. He only used one ball and was not allowed to play any more after he got it stuck in a bunker.
Many Redistributionists believe that all Red Sea Strollers are secret followers of Bob Marley and his music of Zion. This is “racist”, but not when Redistributionists say it. This is because Redistributionists have a magic power called “Political Correctness”, which means that they are always nice and can never be “racist” or “Aunty Semites”.
The new Lords of the Redistributionist faction are devotees of Groucho Marx and his Brothers, despite having no sense of humour. The old Redistributionist Leaders also claimed to like the comedies of Marx but they did not like the pictures being only in Black and White. This is why they Had To Go.
Meanwhile in the Tree House there was great sadness, and all could be seen sobbing pathetically. Some were rolling on the floor clutching their sides, while others were leaning against the bar to stop themselves from falling over. None could speak clearly through their tears, although it was hard to tell the difference.
Many hours later the Tree-ists had regained some self-control. But then their Numerologists started a mystical chant, counting upwards from two thousand and twenty in units of five. Many commanded the Numerologists to stop, saying that the chanting was hurting their ribs too much.