Archaeologists looking for the grave of Richard III have said that there is strong circumstantial evidence that may support the view that the skeleton discovered under a Leicester car park is indeed the crook-backed monarch.
Richard III’s opening words in his eponymous play are applicable to 2012 for he refers to the clouds that loured in our glorious summer being buried and
now.. our brows [are] bound with victorious wreaths.
A succinct précis of the last few weeks.
The Duke – let’s just call him Cameron – immediately confronts Clarence – let’s just call him Osborne – and asks him why he has an armed guard. His addressee says he is being taken to the Tower because his name is George. Cameron tells him that he should blame his godfathers for that nomenclature. (He doesn’t mean the Mafia.) At this point I just wondered why Osborne didn’t revert to Gideon, his alternative appellation.
If he was a wine he would be Malmsey, but that is by the by.
In this country we don’t need a wizard to tell us that our children will be disinherited by someone whose forename begins with G. There is no Gordian knot of a riddle to unpick: we have a choice of at least two and the aural hint of the other scapegoat is in the metaphor. I hope I speak no treason.
Clegg’s Oration to his Army:
What shall I say more than I inferred?
Remember who you are to cope withal,
A sort of vagabonds, bigots – oops, delete –
(I never meant that I should term them so)
A scum of Britains and base lackey peasants…[sic]
Who never trod the primrose Oxbridge path.
And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow?
A milksop – man or mouse?
The best laid plans of mice and coalitions
Gang aft agley.
Still thou art blest compared wi’ me!
An’ forward tho’ I canna see
I guess an’ fear.
Cameron: A Porsche! A Porsche! My kingdom for a Porsche!
We will unite both parties – wait and see.
Smile Heaven upon this fair conjunction.
The brother blindly shed the brother’s blood.
All this divided Clegg and Cameron.
May their politic heirs enrich the time to come
With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days.
And let there be an end to strife. We pardon
All traitors in The Wars of the Rose Garden.
Cry God for Harry in his naked glory,
For George and all who henceforth will vote Tory.
© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012