Crowbane the Conqueror

Things are getting so exciting here in the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria - so much so, that I'd completely forgotten about my blog. Sorry about that, people :(

Since I wrote last time, Crowbane - the Archdruid of the Redistributionist Faction - has been under attack from his fellow Redistributionists. It would appear that his ideas for the Faction, coupled with his bizarre creed, have caused some of his own colleagues to wonder if he is somewhat unhinged. (It hasn't ever occurred to them that they might possibly be in a similar frame of mind, but then, what would I know? I'm only a moggy mouser.)

This overwhelming concern on the part of many Redistributionists has for the most part been fuelled by a growing suspicion that the Northumbrian electorate - who ultimately decide whether the likes of Crowbane are ever appointed to the holy office of Steward of the Realm - will ever gain their confidence. Your Cat can certainly vouch for this: in my varied travels throughout my own not insignificant kingdom I've asked ordinary people their opinions about the Great Panjandram, and every one of them has said that they believe that he's as mad as a box of frogs, or as the Hebrews say in their own patois, "a bisele mashugana".

This being the case, it was decided by the disillusioned members of the Faction (who'd selected him in the first place) that he should be deselected in favour of Someone Better. But it was not to be. By now, Crowbane was fastened to the leadership of the Faction as securely as a limpet, and he simply refused to budge. Such was the strength of the magic mushrooms. Therefore the obdurate dissenters had no choice but to call for a Leadership Contest, and a hitherto unknown figure called Owain The Balance was chosen to be Crowbane's antagonist. Owain - a soft-spoken Cambrian whose charisma could only be described in negative terms - started to campaign among his fellow Redistributionists for their support. He promised to reattach the Kingdom to the Evil Empire, thus ignoring the wishes of the majority of Northumbrians, who wanted a hasty and decisive exit from the stranglehold of that malignant confederation.

After a lot of blood, sweat, tears, flatulence and biliousness coupled with unbridled delirium by the soothsayers, who salivated like puppies in a butcher's shop, the Day of Decision came at the Redistributionists' Annual Unfortunates' Outing And Picnic. The assembled gathering of yoghurt knitters, bongo beaters, mung bean aficionados, slebs, luvvies and deluded chewers of the sacred fungus listened in rapture to their respective champions and cast their sacred lot in favour of Crowbane. Owain the Balance was cast into outer darkness, along with other rebel angels. Job done.

Crowbane has consolidated his cast iron grip over his faction and removed the remotest possibility of a Redistributionist government for years to come. That's why your Cat is so excited. What's for tea?