Thursday 12 May 2011

A New Nation Is Born

What I'm going to tell you may not be completely factually correct, so please don't pass the contents of this posting to the media - unless you've checked it for accuracy beforehand, of course. The Cat is not liable for any factually inaccurate information. I can perfect the purrs, but I know I'm not perfect - and I'm not above getting hold of the wrong end of the stick. Cats were never designed by their Creator to be political animals; I have to face up to the fact that I'm some aberration - an exception to the rule.

As I understand it - and not many know this, but a new Nation is secretly in the throes of being born.

It started in the faraway-somewhere place I refer to as Ultima Thule, where a costumed thug referred to some females of the human species as Sluts.

Now, I'm pretty well-educated, and I've had a great deal of exposure to the realms of human existence. But when I asked my master Caedmon what a Slut was, for some reason or other, he wouldn't tell me. So consequently I've had to do some digging around to get to the bottom of the issue.

I commenced my search with my trusty friend Leo. He's a Big Cat in a cage, and he's pretty clued in about human things. I asked him if he had any idea, but he hadn't heard of the term. But it was nice to see him, for all that. After exchanging a few bits of news with him, I moved on to look for Feaxede, the fox-about-town. I found him (you'll never guess where!), engaged in his favourite hobby of archaeological research.

When I asked him what a Slut was, he told me he'd heard of the term; he'd heard it used by intoxicated wasters during his perambulations on a Saturday night - but he didn't actually know what it meant. A chicken carcass beckoned, so I left him to his frenzied activities.

Having exhausted all my usual avenues of enquiry, I checked out my pal Láréow - the feline secret agent Rat-Befriender who is my prime source of tasty gossip from Caedmeron's Official Residence. When I asked him the same question, he immediately told me what it meant, but owing to the sensitivity of the subject, he had to tell me that he couldn't swear on the accuracy of his information. I get the drift...

The country of Slutland is fast moving to become a separate Nation, as it divides from the Anglo-Saxon sphere of influence. It will have its own Parliament, and its own separate culture and Sluttish language. This development has been the outcome of the steadfast endeavours of the Sluttish National Faction under the able and inspirational leadership of its First Minister, Angus McTrout. Whatever.

The Sluts are very pleased with the idea, but in their evident enthusiasm and nationalistic fervour, they seem to be blissfully unaware that their utopian dream of independence will in reality lead them to the welcoming stranglehold of the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire) and its power-crazed megalomaniac despot Emperor Jose Borracho and his half-baked henchman Hermit, who - despite claiming a soft spot for the Sluts - have no benign plans for them.

But who am I to tell them? I'm only some common-or-garden moggy...