A COUNTRY NAMED ‘LONDON’

london battle of cable street

A COUNTRY NAMED ‘LONDON’
Humourless Satire
with a soupçon of French France allowed…after all, proper Londoners own multiculturism

I met with a streetwise professor who was on my side…or was it the other way around? Matters not and regardless, we vented our respective fury upon each other as well as the very ground where inexplicit humans, akin to the ones my Dunkerque damaged father once knew after the conflict and before the wave of new-borns, brawled for elbow room.

Across the way, a firing squad prepared to slaughter a scapegoat who spoke not a word of English. She refused the blindfold the police constable offered, although did accept a last bonbon wrapped in shocking pink parchment. We had an inkling she was not best pleased. Perhaps the bonbon’s filling was not to her liking. In any event, she transformed into a crumpled, crimson limp marionette as a gazillion slugs proved their purpose for being.

I asked whether or not such butchery on the part of the constabulary’s firing squad was comparable to the uniqueness of a purposeful, shared Tourette’s syndrome. The professor’s nod indicated he thought that that was so.

Later, after the giant clock atop the prehistoric steeple had rung its midday chime, a carillon call for malleable morons far and wide, we found ourselves in the company of a most agreeable young lady without qualms. That she freely admitted she spent far too much time staring at the sun answered the question vis a vis her self-evident blindness. More importantly, she…her name I understand was unpronounceable hence I called her Lily…advised that she had, not that long ago, been the one who saved the last two unicorns from the indignity of Noah’s wretched arc. The professor butted in asking, “Where then, young Lily, are the unicorns now?” As quick as a flash she replied, “No one must ever know. That is why I stare at the sun. The visionless…be that actual or metaphorical…thankfully cannot read maps, therefore cannot give the game away.”   

In dire need of nicotine the three of us, that is the professor, sweet Lily and I took to the tables outside of the tatty, yet irresistible tabac on the sunny side of the cobbled quadrangle, their caffeine rich ‘café petit’ a remedy for idle daydreaming.

It was there that the unkempt blond-haired, baby blue-eyed figurehead of the neo Master Race junta petitioned us to be allowed the seat next to sweet Lilys. “Why that particular seat?” I enquired of him.

His sanctimonious riposte, “She who cannot see will always be a friend to me. I know these things. I never lie.”

“How pray do you know these things?” demanded the streetwise professor.

Ensuring all ears were at the ready, his come-back, “Look around the square my friends. See him here, she there; see the gang digging holes in the wrong place; see them, those ones to your right, leaving the library with books they’ll never read; see how they all bump into one another. Sheer bliss, for these are my subjects. Millions of them, all as blind as bats. The blind will always believe in lies…not, I stress, that I ever lie…ho, ho, ho,” plus a swift guffaw or two, “Glory be, ‘tas been the making of me.”

“But I am blind and I know for sure that a friendship twixt you and I is an impossibility,” so said a fiery Lily.

“How so?” his ruffled reply.

“These ones you call ‘blind’ are but mesmerized. I need no eyes to sense that. Besides, I can smell you’re nothing but a contemptible monster amongst the creepy crawlers of your own fashioning. I would…and I’m sure the others will not stand in my way…be obliged if you follow me. I have something special you’d like to see. It’s just for you.”

Ever the salivating rake, he jumped at the opportunity. Then a surprise, albeit an inevitable one, sweet Lily held the Master Race monster’s sticky hand as the pair walked on and out of sight. Plainly he was of the opinion he would get his evil way with her. However, prior to their departure she had whispered in my ear, “I shall take him over to Noah’s place down by the riverside. I’ll tell Noah that this vile man is the last unicorn in the universe. Noah’s as daft as a brush and will be none the wiser. Noah doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. Besides, unless the animals arrive in pairs he feeds them to the crows…and worry not, I need no map.”  

~

Before I took of my leave I felt compelled to ask of the professor what he thought would become of the mesmerised locals now that their lord and master was ‘no more’. “I imagine they will move to the frozen north or possibly the wild west, perhaps even the flatlining east to be amongst their own kind. At least the citadel will be ours once more,” his take on the subject.

“And, Lily?”

“Worry not. Her kind are made to survive.”   

 


39 thoughts on “A COUNTRY NAMED ‘LONDON’

    1. Do you know what, young Leslie, when Trump became President I thought to myself that the US must have a vast number of blind idiots to have made it so. My how we laughed. Now I hang my head in shame for the self-same thing…worse in many respects…has happened upon this island. I’m not laughing now. Moreover, we have given our blond, baby blue-eyed, Master Race f-wit PM a serious majority. He can do as he pleases. With such a majority I will, on the last day of January, be deprived of my European citizenship, a thing I hold dear. Back in 1975, on the back of a country that was as good as bankrupt…even the IMF had given up on us; plus a three day working week being imposed because of horrendous power cuts…we held a referendum won handsomely by those wishing to join the EU. A forever referendum. Kindly, the EU let us in. Now this. What I ask myself is the value of a UK democracy in part or at all. We have a head of state chosen by way of her fortunate bloodline; an unelected House of Lords and a House of Commons where MP’s are elected by a ‘first past the post’ system that means true representation of the people is an impossibility. Rant done with…and my apologies for said rant…as you can imagine, I curse the lot of them.

      1. No apologies necessary. I feel like our respective nations have thrown away all of the good and settled for the awful. I certainly didn’t expect to be dealing with such things in my lifetime.

      2. As I just said to another blogger, there was a time when ‘where America leads the rest follow’ and for decades that was a good thing. We still follow America’s lead except this time around we’re following the worst of the US, not the best.

      3. That’s crossed my mind so often this past year. There’s a bumper sticker that’s been around for years—“Don’t follow me. I’m lost, too.” Seems appropriate.

    1. A fair point, Sir. ‘Where America leads the rest of the world follow’. I well recall that once that was a an overwhelmingly good thing. From literature to cinema, music, fashion, art, innovation, moon landings, the magic to a child of Disney and such like, even jeans, tee-shirts, alternative opinions, possibilities becoming actual, and Dick Van Dyke with an accent that never was Cockney…it mattered not…America was taking society across the Western world and no doubt beyond to a socially better place and all was well. Yet now ‘America leads the rest of the world still follows’ only this time around we copy not the best of the US, but Trump himself. Yes, we still copy you, we have the mini-me Trump now leading this soulless island…you couldn’t find a neo-Kennedy could you?

  1. Well Mike, what can I say having finally got back on here to comment after the net collapsed earlier? Lunatics are running the asylum courtesy of other lunatics. And this is not just the electorate lunatics either.

    1. ‘The net collapsed’ Ms S? There’s a lesson to be had young lady. Never ever play tennis in Scotland come December. That’s what I say. On a more serious note, yes, I agree whole heartedly with you. I think, believe…whatever…what I was trying to say with this piece is that outside of London right up to Hadrian’s Wall…thankfully not beyond…is that society at all levels have lost the plot. Originally born of the racism of ‘we don’t want them here nicking our jobs’ yet lately, now the damage has been done, they claim better times ahead as their poor excuse, forgetting entirely the lessons of history they have completely overlook. The bucket of tablets I’ve been taking to cheer my battered brain are beginning to kick in at last. The anger still remains. I was thinking just the other evening. ‘Why not move to Scotland and pay them back for their efforts to save the day by voting for independence…then I read in the paper a tidal wave of English are considering the same thing! A tidal wave of English is perhaps the last thing Scotland needs.

      1. There’s a great song called We’re moving to Scotland. The language is a bit ‘ahem’ but it is worth finding on Youtube.
        Honestly if i had lived down south I don’t know I could have actually voted. Swinso was an idiot, every time she opened her gub their polls plummeted and I don’t know where to start about Corbyn and his Brexit stance when that election was probably there for the taking between these two if they could have put various things aside and seen that the priority here was not to let happen what now has. It’s beyond belief. A mirror to what has happened across the ocean. I just can’t get my head round it.

      2. Once more I agree. The most annoying statistic of all is that if they had joined hands and the electoral system was not ‘first past the post’ then with the ugly Tories getting a decent (or should I say, indecent) 43.6% of the vote and the even uglier Brexit party getting the square root of nothing Corbyn could be the top man already…not, I stress that I support him, even though he, as a good but misguided type, is worth a hundred Johnsons…then again are most people are. Such is life. I live in hope of Associate Membership in the EU. The statute exists but need Master Race man to sign it off. Do that one small thing and as far as I’m concerned he can do what he wants with England and Wales.
        Was this the song? I was rather taken by it

      3. Yes it was. Look I can out swear a trucker. I can swear and order a drink in any language but do attempt to ..er..keep it is aboot espesh re other folks’ blogs. So I zipped it but you come any time. We get all this awful stuff here spewed by that racist rag the Express that if you are a supporter of Nicola you are anti English which given my very mixed ancestry and the left wing household, father on the town council household I was brought up in is a joke. Yep the 43 percent is wrong. I just think Corbyn was wrong in terms of as you say being misguided. And given my upbringing that is also hard to say. Chin up my friend xxxx

      4. One thing about that song other than the fact it made me laugh and also trashed what’s going on in England is that it sends out the subliminal message that Scotland is not a mere glorified county of England…as many readers of the Express and Mail would have it. As for Scotland being anti-English I shall say this. Prior to the days the English came to speak of Rumanians and Bulgarians as people who only come to England the ‘steal our jobs’ it was the Scots they aimed their vitriol at. Years ago at just 16 years old (illegal, I know) I was a weekend barman in a pub in Richmond. On Friday nights in would come a group of Scots. Funny people, joking people, good blokes. However, at closing time when the Scots had left Charlie the publican…having been happy enough taking their money…would without fail say, ‘Why don’t they ‘f’ off home, coming down here stealing our jobs.’ A cameo I know, yet representative of the English being anti-Scots. Did you know that prior to WW2 both the Express and Mail were supportive of Hitler and the ‘going ons’ in Germany. ‘Tis well documented on historical websites. I rest my case, Ms S.
        Also, if I were Nicola I would rebuild Hadrian’s Wall and make it huge and proud…not in a Trump wall manner, I stress. I would use it as a statement that Scotland is a nation in its own rights. Additionally, that would be good for tourism as well as that statement it would be sending out.
        Have a splendiferous weekend and Christmas, you and yours.

      5. Well I have a friend who s Irish. She’s a few years older and she worked in London in the 60s when there were notices everywhere, ‘No blacks or Irish.’ She met her Dundee hubby there and came north and although he died young, a long time ago and her all their living down south, she won’t even go back to her sisters in Ireland. She just loves Scotland and Dundee especially. The thing is Mike, we were a nation until 1707 and frankly at no point did that Act of Union in which a handful of pocket lining bastards sold the nation down the river, did it say we would be anything less than an equal partner. We were not a nation to be subsumed. But that is what happened. These papers are indeed fascist rags. i knew that re them supporting Hitler. Also another lie is that England subsidises usand we have a neck wanting independence. IF the truth came out re the oil some people might see it is the other way about but again that is another suppressed set of documents.

      6. Albeit limited even my knowledge of Scottish history tells me that Scotland was treated as nothing more than a carpet to walk over. Remembrance of such subjugation does not die within just one or two generations. It gets in the blood until a clear sky allows in the daylight that is freedom. ‘Tis thus I am with the Scots all the way. Brexit is a significant thorn in my side, one that I will never stop fighting against, but as yet I’ve not suffered land clearances and other belittling injustice. One lives in hope that Nicola…a politician who answers questions rather than sidestepping; a rarity in politics…convinces sufficient numbers in order to get her way. These are not idle words, I stress. I have been of that opinion since the late 60’s when my old college chum Donald Dewar…sadly lost contact years ago…put me straight re Scottish history.

    2. Aw Mike, yir the best ye ken. The prob is that that history is not taught enough but yep I couldn’t agree more re how we are viewed and while i don’t agree with all Nicola’s policies etc, she knows her stuff.

  2. What should I say, Master? I’m still learning and will never stop. I’ve loved Englan since I was a child and now I feel very sad and can remember a time in the past was going so similarly

    1. Ah yes, I remember it well, Sir. At least Thatcher, wicked old boot that she was, didn’t steal my European identity as Master Race man, Johnson. My thanks for reminding me of song. Cheers, Sir

  3. Repeat, we do. Great history lesson shared my friend. Lately I have been reading about Europe history. Our world seem to fall into the same messes. Merry Christmas my friend and have a safe and fun New Year.

  4. Well, it’s not totally humourless.
    It’s like The Clash song you posted. The message lopes along, pleasantly to the beat. Then suddenly ..I Live By The River; a humorous bit to me. It pulls the whole thing together, like “he feeds them to the crows”.
    My teen years were raised by the river. The rats were massive. “We fed them to the rats”.
    I speak speciously.
    Happy New Year, Mike!

    1. How strange the ways of WP. I replied to your original comment yet now see said reply doesn’t exist. Plainly I ‘messed up’…or WP did, more likely me. ‘Speciously’ a favourite word amongst words. Most sorry I have no idea as to exactly what was my reply, or for example, my second cousin’s name, who stayed with us for many a month when I was but a sprog. I do wish I could remember the name. Do have a tremendous New Year ~ The Old Fool. PS I sent an email re a book.

      1. You’ve not seen my handwriting as yet! I believe ‘hopeless’ is the word I’m looking for. Regardless, I shall try my level best when signing the book, you have my word on that.

      2. LOL!!!
        Perhaps we could team up, and hand write a book no one could read.
        We could bury it in a time capsule. When it would be dug up, it would seem like a Dead Sea Scrolls… or so!
        Just one of my funny boned thoughts!

    1. My anti-Brexit post. I had to give Lily a hearing, fictional I know, yet she’s worth a million Boris’s. Now that my European identity has been stolen and the racists hold sway I think I’ll give her call and accompany her on a visit to the place where the unicorns live…’tis that or forever hating a large number of English oafs. Reading this, what with it being a Sunday the question that has formed inside this less than moonlit brain is asking me if you’ve posted on your blog? I shall have to take a look! The Old Fool prsently looking out the window at a storm ‘they’ say is a once in a decade storm.

      1. I haven’t! With all the grading and my daughter being more dedicated to playing in the snow than working for me (sigh) I won’t get anything posted until tomorrow. So no worries–you’re early this time, lol xxxxxxx

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