Tuesday 6 December 2011

Gone West

The Northumbrian machine of cheerfully oppressive stupidity continues to grind. Following the silly remarks made by Hieronymus the Clack's Son, suggesting that Public Sector Employees publicly exercising their vigorous inactivity should be spit roasted over an open fire - and the ensuing furore - another similar incident has taken place.

During a routine inspection of my feline territory I recently gathered from gossip that a young mother, travelling in a westerly direction with one of her infant children in a horse-pulled cart, started to remonstrate with her fellow-passengers, all of whom were either Vikings, Moors, Ethiopians, Bactrians - or an assortment of other exotic nationalities with strange languages, religions, garb, habits and dietary propensities. This was a spontaneous and heated outburst of frustration, resentment and bad attitude - seasoned with not a few anglo-saxon Anglo-Saxon turns of phrase, and served on a hot plate. The intended audience looked on in bemusement; those whose command of the Anglo-Saxon tongue was adequate enough to comprehend her diatribe listened in slack-jawed disbelief.

This graceless and foolish barrage of bilious ill temper was faithfully recorded by a nearby scribe for the benefit of posterity (hooray for attentive eyes and lugs!), and the matter was duly reported to the Costumed Thugs and the Soothsayers, who immediately went into paroxysms of ecstasy. Bless.

Seventeen thousand Vikings, Moors, Ethiopians, Bactrians - and an assortment of other exotic nationalities with strange languages, religions, garb, habits and dietary propensities were mortally offended, and the resulting cadavers had to be buried without the benefit of a Christian funeral. It's very sad.

But - justice to the rescue! All is not lost. The young mother was subsequently thrown into an oubliette, where she gracefully rots in squalor and a notoriety more befitting Judas Iscariot or Herod; her children were courageously seized from her, duly rescued from the danger of being parented by an opinionated and potty-mouthed exemplar. They now languish in some orphanage somewhere, and are now learning the art of criminality from the State without a mother's love. The sigh of relief through the Kingdom was palpable. Another good job well done.

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