‘O Mister Wot
What have you got?
Are they the keys to Browning Street
In your back pock…’
“Infernal racket!” A bleary-eyed Big Bee emerged from beneath the cushions of his couch and blinked in the over-bearing light of the bunker.
“Ever so sorry, sire,” smiled Teigue-the-Fool, “I didn’t realise you were still here.”
“Trying to think,” said Big Bee.
“Ah, you may need more than silence to navigate this little predicament.”
“But we have more than silence,” smirked Big Bee.
“Another one bites the dust?”
“Nothing like a minister falling on his sword to keep the vultures away, what…”
“What’s Wot got to do with it?”
“What indeed,” grinned Big Bee and said nothing.
“Oh, I get it,” hazarded Teigue, carefully placing a finger on the corner of his mouth, “no body is talking about the six hundred million lateral flow test results that went missing.”
“Missing?” laughed Big Bee.
“Lost?” said Teigue, raising his finger in the air.
“Deliberately destroyed to preserve the pro-lock-down narrative.”
“Can I quote you on that, sire?”
“Don’t be silly, Teigue, of course not.”
… ‘O Mister Wot
Just like Pol-Pot
The trail of deaths
Lie hidden from the flock…’
A Questionable Science:
Love and Death in the Time of COVID
by Stuart France and G. Michael Vasey
‘The Gallows and Gibbet Inn’, proclaimed the sign, which singular nominal ought really to have aroused, if not my shackles then, at least my suspicions.
Too late, Anu was already tugging me over the threshold into the warmth, and the light, and the sound of voices, and music…
…They were all in there!
Black Jack Davey… Teigue-the-Fool… The Miller’s Son… The Sorcerer’s Apprentice… H.R.H. the Lord of the Elements, and one-hundred-and-one other far less savoury characters.
Most of them in their cups. Reprobates all! And what a tale they had to tell.
If you have ever wondered why all the public houses are shut.
You had better pull up a chair…