The Angry Exile: Another dickhead.

The Hangman

Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.
The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.
And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.
And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."
And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief
And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.
And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.
And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."
He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."
Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"
And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.
That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;
Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"
And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."
The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"
The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."
And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.
The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all
For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.
He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.
And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.
"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.
For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"
"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."
Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Maurice Ogden

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

Another dickhead.

David Aaronovitch in The Times talks out of his arse.

...hysteria rules. They claim for the bath plug, and in the act of seeking recompense for such a small and essential item they show their incredible greed. They claim for a new kitchen, and in the act of claiming for such a large item they show their unbelievable greed. They earn money from other sources? They are part-time politicians, skimping on their role as representatives of the people! They earn money only from politics? They are professional politicians, cut off from the reality of proper jobs such as stockbroking (whoops, one of last year's examples got in there by mistake) [oh tee-hee you hilarious prick - Angry Exile] and nursing.

They want a second home because their jobs are in two places? Tough! Who doesn't want a second home! Let them stay in a barracks! Or let them pay every penny themselves. Let them not profit if they sell, but take the full loss if prices drop.

Read this exchange, and tell me who is the moral exemplar. Margaret Moran, the MP for Luton South, on TV on her disgraceful claim for a second-home allowance on a flat in Southampton. MM: “My partner works in Southampton. He has done for 20 years. If I'm ever going to see my partner of 30 years, I can't make him come to Luton all the time, I have to be able to have a proper family life sometimes, which I can't do unless I share the costs of the Southampton home with him.”

A viewer texts in: “ARE THESE PEOPLE INSANE - DO THEY REALISE HOW THEY SOUND!! I'm so angry. I've been a single mum, working, holding down a job, paying my mortgage, my council tax and I don't have the luxury of asking the taxpayer to help me keep my family together.”

I am afraid it is the viewer who does not realise how she sounds. First there's the obvious point that the taxpayer probably has helped her to keep her family together. And quite right too, but there's no glimmer of empathy. Second, there is the almost punitive desire that MPs should actually have it bad. Not healthy, Sigmund, not healthy at all.

Myself, I fail as an expenses chiseller. Temperamentally I am the opposite, but I have worked in enough organisations to know that for every under-claimer there are five assiduous form-fillers and one ingenious expenses-artist. We all know it, don't we? Why do you think cab drivers offer you a handful of blank receipts?

HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES? There's a huge fucking difference between diddling your employer at the risk of getting fired and diddling your employer to whose head you're holding a fucking gun in order to extract your salary as well as perks, benefits, pension and, of course, the fucking expenses that you're fiddling. And defending fucking Moran of all people, someone who sees nothing wrong in using the second home allowance to tart up a house that's nowhere fucking near either Westminster or her constituency, is just ludicrous.

WHY THE FUCK IS IT SO HARD FOR POLITICIANS AND THEIR TAME CUNTWAFTING JOURNO SYCOPHANTS TO UNDERSTAND THIS?

UPDATE: JuliaM has left a comment after a comment left on her own blog about David Aaronovitch's article. There was a bit of ~~lying~~ ~~rewording~~ editing of the words of the single mum who sent in a text to the Beeb. Seems like there's an almost suppliant desire that MPs should be seen as the wronged party. Not healthy, shit-for-brains, not healthy at all.

1 comment:

JuliaM said...: Even worse - he somewhat misrepresented the actual words used by the viewer.

Ross from 'Unenlightened Commentary' noted it on my blog this afternoon, via:

http://www.matthewturner.co.uk/Blog/2009/05/mps-expenses.html; 14 May 2009 at 03:02