Planet Ban-It

Whilst still reeling from hearing about the slimy, sinister and subversive subculture which has insinuated itself into the Northumbrian political and social institutions, I've heard that the Witangemot has decreed that the promotion of alcoholic refreshments should no longer be permitted. If you want to buy your ale and mead, you're first of all going to have to guess where it is, because it's no longer going to be displayed in the market stalls, taverns and inns of the realm. The exercise of purchasing a flagon of the finest foaming is going to turn out be an interesting puzzle - especially for those whose powers of logical deduction are questionable...

This should come as no surprise to anyone but the most feckless and moronic watchers of the political scene; there's been a concerted campaign of propaganda against the partaking of alcoholic beverages for years; a torrent of drivel on the subject has proceeded from the mouths of multitudes of shamans, who have been paid handsomely by the State to manufacture the evidence required to justify a total ban on its public accessibility. Needless to say, the enticement of loads of groats and fancy coats has been sufficient to give these Judases the inspiration to faithfully perform their dark arts and contrive the required evidence - wrapping it up in the most obscure and flowery language. Most of it has been quite inventive and entertaining - worthy of publishing under the genres of "humour" or "fantasy fiction." Most of the case against the public availability of alcohol has revolved around the issue of passive drinking. I've already given my two ha'pence worth, so I'll won't bore you and pontificate about this any further.

But as I muse over these seemingly random events, I'm forced to draw to some conclusions. First of all, it's more than apparent that the Northumbrian Witangemot have a seething hatred for ordinary people. They must have: why else would they want to make life so much more difficult for ordinary labourers, farmers, fishermen and artisans? As it is, they're already paying over the odds for the few pleasures available to them in the grimy, gritty grind of everyday life. Taxes are high and rising steadily and the chronic budget deficit is used to to justify the increases. Whatever. To this cat - who is impartial because he doesn't care much for alcohol - such measures are nothing short of vindictive.

But there's also a measure of hypocrisy here (yes, I'm surprised, too). These jumped-up toads who lord it over hapless humankind are immune from the very strictures they joyfully inflict on lesser beings. They can drink as much as they want of the finest mead, ale or vino collapso from Charlemagne's finest vineyards. Free. Gratis. For nothing. Baksheesh. At the taxpayer's expense. Sooner or later the docile herds are going to cotton onto this - and there's going to be an almighty showdown. I can feel it in my water.

But in the light of my discovery yesterday, another perspective opens up. This piece of legislation is also being foisted onto hapless Franks, Danes, Irish, Westphalians, Greeks, Bulgars and dozens of other nations as well. Coincidence? What's the common denominator, people? Is it not the machinations of the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire) - headed up by the power-crazed Emperor Jose Borracho and his half-witted henchman Hermit - implemented through the snake-like UFO? It all adds up...