The Angry Exile: More thieving bastards.

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

Thursday 7 May 2009

More thieving bastards.

One in the Lords, and so extensively blogged about all over the place (Old Holborn for instance) I've got little to add. Bookmarked that page for nothing then, didn't I? And another one in the Commons, and this is one I met many years ago. Funnily enough he seemed alright at the time, so either Westminster simply corrupts or I'm a lousy judge of character and he was a sticky fingered cunt to begin with. Hmmm, also a bit of a slob by the sounds of it. Okay, I'm a slob too sometimes, but not in a place I'm renting because I'd want my deposit back. Still, when it's so easy to make the money up by playing the various Westminster expenses games why worry about it? Trash the fucking place, move on, and get the taxpayer to reimburse you. Bastard.

You name it, they're at it, and mostly it seems to be one variant or another on property expenses. And Gordon Clown seriously wanted to give them a fucking daily allowance just for showing up? Yeah, like that would have solved all the abuse you daft wanker. The only solution is to scrap the vast majority of expenses except for office supplies, travel, and sensible accommodation. If they want to stay in a five star hotel that's fine, but if there's a local Travel Lodge they get back 60 quid per night (or whatever it is for Travel Lodge rooms these days). Similarly they can fly first/business if they want to, but all they can claim for is the cost of an economy seat, and lets not forget that even that's only on presentation of the receipt and a fucking good reason for going in the first place. Otherwise they get f-u-c-k-a-l-l. As for the other popular cash cow of hiring family members as PAs, researchers, office managers or anything else they can think of, let's say they can have one of each. But the position has to be advertised, salaries to be set by Parliament, initial interviews should be done by someone other than the MP and must be blind so that interviewers don't know for which MP's staff they're interviewing, and then the MPs get to pick (and re-interview if they wish) from all the candidates who've been passed as suitable for researcher/PA/whatever. And if MP spouses and family members want to apply in the hope that they end up working for their better half/parent then fine by me. But with that sort of system I doubt that so many would apply in the first place. No home allowances for anyone no matter the location of their home or the ~~safe seat they were parachuted into~~ constituency. If the salary as is isn't good enough for you don't go for the fucking job in the first place.

As for the Lords? Well, before Nulabour came along and corrupted it I think it was probably okay. Not perfect obviously, and no doubt home to some party placemen, but a reasonably independent chamber. But with cash for amendments, expense fiddles and more placemen than ever I think it's time the Lords went. Perhaps something like the Australian Senate, elected by PR so as to deny (well, probably) any party an overall majority and to go with the proportion of support each has in the country, but with the above rules about expenses and staff of course.

But obviously for that to happen several million people need to be persuaded to stop voting for the same pack of troughing cunts that they've always voted for. That's the big task - cleaning up Westminster is going to be a piece of piss compared to getting the tribal voters to stop electing any old crook or cretin that has the right coloured rosette nailed to it somewhere.

H/T DK.