Naturally, the event is a festive occasion, and it's generally believed that it's a practice run for the forthcoming Kingdom celebrations, when loyal Northumbrians will be joyously celebrating the nine hundredth year of King Alhfrith's noble reign - ably aided and accompanied by his partner-in-crime and consort, the potty-mouthed Queen Hillida. Along the streets of Streonaeshalch we're already greeted by the flutter of bunting and banners, and the sound of bongoes and the smell of unwashed armpits, dog breath and beansprouts forms a heady sensory backdrop for this special occasion. Yes - the Redistrubutionist Workers' Faction is joining in. Such fun!
Ordinarily on such occasions, the Costumed Thugs are found in abundance on the streets, ready to administer a friendly word of advice to any over-exuberant revellers, and to benignly shepherd the crowds of drunken knuckle-draggers and hotheads to a small confined area, where they're able to tell their captive audience bedtime stories. These occasions are usually rumbustious and good-humoured, and not many accidental injuries take place.
However, today the Costumed Thugs are nowhere to be seen; I've heard from Feaxede the Fox that they've also willingly sacrificed their day's work and clad themselves in their regular tunics, and have anonymously joined in the celebrations.
This serves to explain why the pavements of the streets of our lovely town - and doubtless, others throughout the Realm - are currently festooned with unsightly and malodorous caramel-coloured canine colorectal curled offerings. The legions of elderly ladies' dogs are taking full advantage of their temporary liberty to express themselves...
They should enjoy their brief day of freedom while they can. It won't last...
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