The usual river of brackish drivel continues to flow sluggishly through the consciousness of the Northumbrian Kingdom - aided and abetted by the soothsayers, of course - and the politicos continue to practise the sacred arts of dissimulation, slobber and posturing. Meanwhile, in the as yet undiscovered land of Ultima Thule, word has got out that Bugrake O'Barmy - the silver-tongued despot of that distant outpost - has once more been elected to the coveted Chieftain's Seat. Hooray for De-Mockery-Cy and biscuit!
To the sound of trumpets and the tumultuous bleating of myriads of his adoring acolytes and assorted sheep and goats, Buggy was sworn in to his second term of office. The ceremony was attended by representatives of all the major tribal groupings throughout the unknown world, as well as legions of hangers-on, pigeons and mountebanks.
Having sworn his sacred oaths (in anglo-saxon Anglo-Saxon) in the presence of his high priests, druids and diversity coordinators, Buggy then proceeded to give an oration to the assembled hordes. Many people burst into tears, blew their noses and wept uncontrollably. This remarkable outpouring of raw emotion continued when Buggy opened his mouth and uttered sounds resembling words. In his usual fashion, Bugrake O'Barmy was the consummate orator; his phrasing was gilded with the finest eloquence and articulation; the tones of his authoritative voice rose and fell in soothing cadences. The sounds of snoring soon filled the air as people gently slumped and heads gradually rolled downwards.
As ever, the contents of Buggy's speech revealed what was in his heart and within his cranium. Sadly, no one was quite sure what it was he'd actually said. This Cat is of the firm conviction that Caddy Boy and his pals have a great deal to learn from this charismatic chieftain. For a start, everyone loves him - even though they have no idea what he actually says - or does..
It's certainly all action, if little forward movement.
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