What Ho Proles!
It's the end of a quiet weekend and my power cells are yet to reach their full recharge. Last week contained more than my usual number of adventures, which perhaps accounts for the lethargy I'm feeling. I don’t have much planned for the days ahead but I suppose I should nip into the city and pop my face into the office at least once.
My Man is in a particularly sombre mood this Monday morning, and it has taken a good half hour of my giving him dressing him down before he admitted that he has been writing another of his infernal plays, which he claims to have finished in the early hours. The man’s pretensions know no limits, though I'm quite thankful that he's refused to allow me to read it.
On an altogether more pleasurable note, I read in The Times this morning that we’re being encouraged to be kind to hooded louts, which as you might know, has not always been a Murgatroid principal. In the village, there’s rarely a week that goes by without my having to sentence one of the gothic crowd to the stocks. Oh, some of you might think it all a bit draconian, but I sincerely believe we’re doing a service for those young boys wearing eye shadow and listening to their droning idols. I know that it’s only natural that a youth will want to rebel against the world and, as a nipper, it was not unknown for Yours Truly to drink whisky before breakfast. But it’s even more natural that the world should want to tie one of these overly sensitive types into a wooden frame and throw rotten fruit at them. It’s called ‘nature’s balance’ and I’m all for it.
Apologies for the lack of action. Just to give you something to read, I might go out and bag myself a peasant tomorrow.
Toodle P.
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2 comments:
Oh Sir,
You who have been brought up so well should be above making fun of the different, the outsider. They'll come around and figure out where they fit in eventually.
I hope that your man's play turns out well.
Dear Momentary,
Alas, it is my job as the local Magistrate to help those poor lost souls find their way as quickly as possible. We don't want difference around here! That only encourages independent thought! When these young snivelers have such an excess of spirit, I like to get them working in the fields to tire them out lest they become too ambitious.
My Man's play is probably yet another celebration on the Primitive Man. I don't encourage him in these little ambitions of his, but one has to tread so carefully. He's quite sensitive in a rough uncultured sort of way and actually believes some of the rubbish he writes.
J.P.M.
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