In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

  • Parrot’s in his Tower – and That’s All, Folks

    This stanza was written on the day after Mr Johnson’s election victory on December 12th, 2019. It will be the last stanza of “Parrot Addenda,” rounding off this series of 164 stanzas. It does not mean the Brexit story is over, of course. There’s plenty more to come. It just means that the situation is suddenly very different. The tension and doubts and possibilities that have existed since the 2016 referendum and Cameron’s resignation, are no longer present. And this Parrot’s way of telling the story has nothing more to add.

    I believe that, amongst much else, the story so far has been a win and reward for the Lie of which, of course, Johnson is a shameless, constant and largely unpunished practitioner. His election victory rewards him for his lies and is a portrait of this nation’s disarray and perhaps its despair.  The Lie is theft. It steals our language from us, it replaces clean air with foul. We are reliant on words to connect us to the truth and to the truth of each other. The Lie now running riot, led from Number Ten Downing Street, therefore spells ruin for our community.and for our democracy as presently configured and constituted.

    And it leaves the parrot with nothing further to say, no medium of truth to say it in. And he has been tiring of late, flying above the flood. There is no point flying on and on, even if it were possible.

    The tower he has found is the Tyndale Monument, an inspiration and sentry post for English honour and clean speaking, overlooking the Severn Estuary. At the top of it is a kind of cage.

    The parrot will feel at home there, and in the best of company, but always on high alert for a time when words come clean again. 

    Image result for tyndale monument

     

     

     

     

    Posted:

  • The Casting of the Parrot’s Vote

    And this piece was written on election night, a second night of pause and waiting, with the chill moon again prominent and beautiful overhead.

    We walked home after casting our votes, our act tiny power, our tiny power of action. We had done what we could, and put our very sceptical crosses against the name of a decent man attached to a party that had already lost its way before choosing a grossly inadequate leader.

    Posted:

  • The Parrot Looks Up at the Moon

    I wrote this stanza the night before the UK General Election on December 12th. In my part of the country, the moon was very clear that cold December night, and had been for several nights. If not full, then very nearly so.

    The electorate had a profoundly disheartening choice and a victory for the Progressives, or at least a position sufficient to restrain the fanatic Far Right and practitioners of the Lie, would still have been accompanied by a strong sense of trepidation.

    But still I found myself that night, under the moon, with a sneaking hope that somehow sanity would cobble something together, something reflective of the nation’s predicament and fine balance ; the election might even come up with something unexpected, inspirational, gladdening… 

    And there was the Toad, intent on serenading the Leaver half of the country. Here comes the sun, get it done, get it done. And all the time, his back was turned to the nation’s other half. Would that pay off ?

     

    Posted:

  • UK Election – Parrot Prognosis

    Thinking of the election due later this coming week, and of the likeliest result, I fear for the parrot. “He speaks all languages aptly,” wrote Skelton, implying that the parrot hears everything and can keep nothing out. So what will be swirling about in his brain by Friday morning ?

    Posted:

  • The Toad Negotiates with the Underworld

    This week Mr Trump (“the American Minotaur”) was in the UK for a meeting of NATO leaders. Then he got the hump because people were laughing at him and he left early.

    Not long ago, Mr Johnson (“The Toad”) did a Putin with a bull. See picture above. Perhaps he was rehearsing for his upcoming chat with Mr Trump (the Minotaur).

    Posted:

  • The Parrot Seeks Respite from the Flood

    Last week “Prime Minister” Johnson tried to take political advantage of the terrorist attack in London. This despite the appeals of the father of one of the victims, expressly not to do so. But how could Mr Johnson resist ? He’d lose one vote, no doubt, but might well have gained rather more than one. It’s just a matter of weighing the numbers. A no brainer for a Toad. So he said it was Labour who were responsible for those deaths. 

    What further depths do we have to sink to ?

    In the meantime, the Parrot, Bird of Paradise, uncaged and homeless and close to exhaustion, looks for an ark for respite or as staging post, as the Flood continues to cover the Earth.

    We seem to have strayed into the Old Testament. Or has the Old Testament suddenly been translated into our present darkness ? 

    Posted:

  • The Toad Goes Hunting for Votes

    Toad’s progress around the country this election is always, of course, more a search for images which might benefit him, than a chance for real encounters with real people.

    And, to date,  that search has come up with some striking images, which would appear to be considered appealing to us. There he is in one picture, wearing boxing gloves with “Get Brexit Done” printed on them, and a Toad’s face between the gloves, smirkingly up for battle.

    And there’s been another picture in which the Toad meets a large bull in a cattle market. And there again we see that face smirkingly up for battle, though the supposedly fearsome bull tethered close by might be accused of looking a bit bored.

    Posted:

  • A Toad Delivers the Tory Manifesto

    The Parrot is tiring overhead. He lacks the staying power of the swift and a Bird of Paradise needs a foothold on the Earth. But now he’s heard the UK Prime Minister announce the Tory manifesto for the UK’s immediate future, having first “got Brexit done.”

    Posted: