Caedmon was an early English Christian poet who lived in Whitby in the 7th century. The writer of this blog has no pretensions to such exalted gifts, and for this reason (as well as the fact that the name has already been taken) has chosen his Cat. They say that a cat can look at a king; this cat certainly does that. He's also had a good Christian education from his master, and he's quite prepared to use it when necessary.
Monday, 16 May 2011
The Smooch Of Death
You can always tell when someone's political career is about to reach its inglorious conclusion when the Beloved Faction Leader publicly expresses full confidence in the person concerned...
A certain Liberationist luminary called Húne - known as 'Horehound' has been in hot water of late. This gentleman was originally given the task of heading up the Ministry of the "Environment" - which - as the pre-eminent non-job in the Witangemot - is a ragbag of assorted fantasies and fairy stories, perpetuated by the likes of His Holiness Archbishop Georges Moonbat - the world's leading fly agaric chewer and global warming shaman. Horehound has thrown himself zealously into the fantasy, attending prestigious and expensive "Environment" conferences around the fleshpots of the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire) and Ultima Thule on behalf of the Kingdom of Northumbria, travelling to these exotic locations on the best possible longboats, and faring sumptuously from the feasts - all laid on, needless to say, at taxpayers' expense. No expense spared to save the Planet, the Environment, and the poor polar bears who are getting stranded and sunburned on the melting ice. Whatever.
Horehound has been out of the picture recently, since there's only a limited number of times that a politician can wring his hands and plaintively utter platitudes like, "This Is The Last Chance For Our Planet" and "Something Must Be Done," - which, roughly translated into human speech means "We Need To Raise More Taxes From The Unwashed."
But we needn't worry about the poor chap; his life hasn't been completely devoid of meaning and purpose. He's been busy breaking the Law Of the Northumbrian Kingdom by riding his cart at breakneck speed, thus putting the lives of elderly ladies, children, cats, dogs and chickens in considerable danger. But his trusty former wife has apparently come to the rescue and secretly admitted responsibility for his crimes, and out of the goodness of her heart has paid his hefty fines so that no one would ever know he was the actual transgressor. Noble indeed - especially from a former wife..
But now the truth has come to light, and he's been keeping a low profile. And his Liberationist mentor Clegge - along with Caedmeron - the Chief Cock And Bluebottle Washer of the Tree Party and the Leader of the Alliance Administration - has expressed his full support and assured him of his complete confidence.
The blacksmiths are busy of late. I hear the sharpening of knives...
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