Tags
Animal Farm, Animalism, Beasts of England, Benjamin, Brexit, dead donkey, etymology, revolution, Snowball and Napoleon, Sugarcandy Mountain, The Windmill
I’m with Benjamin on this one, I said, sipping my Macchiato.
Benjamin? Brassica interjected.
Yes, the cynical one.
You surprise me. Brassie can be ironic sometimes.
Yes, we are all being taken to the knacker’s yard in a battle bus. No one can
read what it says on the side. Benjamin had a good memory. Things can
never be much better or much worse. Hunger, hardship and disappointment
are the unalterable laws of life.
You surely don’t believe that, Candia? What about the vision of Sugarcandy
Mountain? We can build our own windmills. The Three Brexiteers
have promised that we will all be better off and the NHS and pensions
will benefit our own old and retired once again.
Hmmm, do you recall that by the fourth year of Animalism and
independence, Animal Farm depended completely on its trade with
the wider world? Rations were reduced and lighting was cut in the stalls.
There was no such outcome as the three day week and the full
manger.
Yes, Candia, but the animals had a feeling of dignity and held
spontaneous demonstrations to celebrate their own triumphs.
Yeah, and a lot of history was re-written as well. The animals felt
that they had re-gained what they had before. As for Snowball and
Napoleon, they were in cahoots with the Enemies and eventually
traded with whichever partner promoted their own selfish,
unprincipled desires.
So, who do you reckon are Snowball and Napoleon?
I leave it entirely to your own judgement, comrade.
So, are you on your way to vote now? Remember, old Jones was not
so bad, even if he was a Fascist.
Yes, I had better watch out for the low-flying campaigning pigeons.
I don’t want to be crapped on. Nor do I want to be savaged by a band of
trained puppies.
And I left, humming ‘Beasts of England’ cynically.
Brassie appropriated a couple of sugar cubes for Post-Revolution
sustenance, adjusted her Alice band and went to check her parking
ticket on the gleaming new dog cart, between whose shafts she
willingly reined herself.
As for moi?
Well, no one has ever seen a dead donkey. And being interested in
etymology, I remind you that le bon mot: ‘revolution’ has the inbuilt
concept of ending up exactly where you started.