Our daughter Arianrhod ferch Saisladdwr was happily hunting down imaginary guinea pigs on her rocking horse this afternoon. I paused from filing my eyelashes to place No Good Boyo's next, artfully crafted web blog entry just out of her reach. She immediately dismounted like a lady and stomped over to fold the tattered sheaf into an "airy plane", which she then guided into the comforting flames of the hearth.
This establishes that what Bakunin called "Die Lust der Zerstörung" trumps sloth among the young.
Later, I placed a pie on No Good Boyo's chest, tuned the television to Lark Rise to Candleford, moved the remote control just out of reach and retired to my bower, amused by the alternating sounds of chomping and weeping.
This gives hope to us all who seek to build a new, but not necessarily better, world.
10 comments:
Oh dear oh dear oh dear.....it sounds like you and Boyo are planning the destruction of bourgeois civilisation from a very cozy Cotswolds mountain hideout! Your daughter, on the other hand, expresses solidarity with proletarian masses the world over...not...in her symbolic and simultaneous trashing of cut-price air travel and cheeky blog publishing.
If Mr Boyo is half the man he pretends to be, he would have surely memorised the post, thus avoiding the need to induce feeling of guilt in the young miss by gazing at her with sad, reproachful eyes.
GB, Arianrhod gazes at me with pity when she bothers at all, and is usually focusing on something just past me. I did memorize the post, and will try to ressurect it - or the shade of John Dee, which ever is easier - on my forthcoming night watch.
Gadjo, it's the Chilterns actually actually. The Cymru Rouge use them as a simulated Wales, given the real one is in the flaccid grip of the ameliorationist Mensheviks of Welsh Labour and the bourgeois nationalists of Plaid.
And Mrs Boyo and I are destroying the system from within.
:-) As a trial run for the Liberation of Wales you can use the Chilterns. I was born round there, middle-class ponce that I am, and, pleasant though the area is, I can report that it has absolutely no sense of identity or selfhood*, therefore you could howitzer the shit out of it and history will not judge you!
*You'll know a much better German word for this.
Indeed, Gadjo, it seems that Leitkultur around here is but something that happens to other people.
I knew you'd know the word for it! I also experienced none of this leitkultur, in myself nor in anyone I knew from there. The downside, of course, is that it nobody has a sense of community, pride....or indeed sensation of any kind. The upside is that we’re not continually going round threatening to nut people if they criticize Amersham; and there's no paramilitary Chiltonian Defence Force of Cotswold-based ex-pats. Swings and roundabouts.
Mays I asks why you is encouraging your changeling to hunt guinea pigses?
Gyppo, by all means - please go ahead.
Alrights - Why is you encouraging your changelings to hunt guinea pigses?
Gradus ad Parnassum, Gyppo. She's already too fast for beetles, but not up to speed for game birds.
I imagine your various children graduate from clothes pegs to driveway maintenance via fairground attractions in a parallel manner.
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