When this stanza was written, the UK’s Mr Toad was still working to meet the deadline for his “deal” for Brexit. A deal achieved in a matter of days, following all sorts of disgraceful and hooligan goings-on, such as unlawfully proroguing Parliament, etc.
And the EU seemed to be co-operating with him in this horrendous mickey-mouse charade. And it seemed clear that if he managed the deadline, if he achieved the date which he himself had set, that would be what the noise would be about, not the behaviour, not the low quality of the “deal” itself.
Would we stop to read what exactly our serially deceitful Mr Toad was wishing to visit on this nation ?
Were we ever going to wake us from this ghastly dream ?
Has the parrot started confusing himself with Dr Who ? And his cage with the Tardis ?
One thought here is that – post computers and social media etc – we are settlers in the new country, the new world, which these discoveries have made for us. Essentially, we are still strangers in it and adapting to it – or trying to. In the meantime, our surrounding psychological, social and legal frameworks are still essentially of the world we’ve left behind. We seek to apply them to present conditions and behaviour, but they don’t fit and therefore don’t work. They haven’t kept up. They were anyway perhaps unfit for purpose by now, due to overuse and natural wrinkliness.
So the link is to the proverbial Wild West. A new country where the hoodlums and outlaws are in control and having an easy time, running the main street. Wyatt Earp hasn’t arrived yet. Or he is slow on the draw. Whatever the case, the hoodlums and the maniacs are ahead of the game. They are so sure of themselves, they don’t bother to hide. On the contrary, they are running nations, smearing constitutions, despoiling temples.
This latest stanza was written after news came though yesterday evening that Damian Green MP had spoken with Mr Toad MP, Prime Minister, “eye to eye” and been reassured by the Toad’s word on it. But Mr Toad does not have a word. Does Mr Green ?
In case anyone needs reminding, Damian Green was demoted by Theresa May at some point, following a bit of fuss about pornography being discovered on his computer at work. It seems that the main reason he was punished in this way, however, was because he lied to the investigators about it, thereby breaking the Ministerial Code.
Thus, it’s fair to say that Damian Green has been sacked once for lying. And on public record is the fact that Johnson has been sacked twice. He has not yet been sacked for all the other times.
Interesting though, that someone who finds it all too possible to lie on his or her own behalf, still finds it important to be able to trust the word of others, whoever they may be, however serially duplicitous.
I’m uploading below a set of photographs of an exhibition I organised a few months ago, in Clifton Cathedral, Bristol. The picture above is just one example. Several pictures show, as this does, how the exhibition looked in its setting. Several more show single poems close up, the words made somehow even stronger in their setting here, against the stark concrete walls.
It has taken me a while to find ways to upload so many pictures all at once, without busting the memory bank. It’s now several months since the exhibition took place. But I feel justified in apparently harking back now. I believe that it said, and still says, something very topically relevant. And, through these images, it speaks to us with great power, urgency and beauty.
The exhibition taught me (I’m slow to learn) that words and what they mean cannot be isolated from context. The place or time in which they are read can also add to or detract from their power to reach through, to chime in with. Against the rough concrete surfaces of the cathedral, this place given over to expression and celebration of the sacred, I think the poems spoke with even greater strength than usually they do. Place and words spoke to and for each other. I shall keep looking for ways to publish the exhibition on the internet that will do it adequate justice.
“This is like a contemporary Book of Psalms”, someone said, on first seeing the poems set out there.
Clifton Cathedral was built in the late 60’s and early 70’s. It is a striking and impressive building, austere, majestic and yet inclusive. The exhibition took place on a large balcony within the cathedral. As well as the bilingual poems, it displayed a number of poems on mental disturbance. All the poems were formatted as posters, many enlarged – some to A2 size, a few to A0. A local photographer, Alan Thunhurst, took and then edited the vast majority of the pictures.
We’ve almost arrived at the pictures. I have taken a while to find and explore the various platforms one can use. This below is ok but I have not found a way to enlarge the pictures here. There is a Facebook option and that does give you that flexibility. But you have to be on Facebook first. Here : https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009086896863&sk=media_set&set=a.2271411376505070&type=3
Google Photos provides another gallery setting and that too allows you to progress through the photos, enlarging as you go, if you choose : Here : https://photos.app.goo.gl/ajwMWSykbYYQxeSk7
This was written on a day (Tuesday October 8th) when the UK news gave cause for yet further despond, alarm and shame, but as Dr Doombeetle says, it will all be someone else’s fault, as always.
And Jez ? Those female MP’s facing de-selection ? Good one Jon. Good one Jez. That dreadful conference and Jon’s attempt to shaft Tom Watson ? Good one Jon. Good one Jez.
References in the stanza : Len = Len McKluskey ; Jon = Jon Lansman, founder and Chair of Momentum ; Lilliput is the land of the little people, featured in the first part of “Gulliver’s Travels” by Jonathan Swift. “Gulliver’s Travels” is a satire consisting of four parts, with Lilliput featuring only in the first one. It was written in the eighteenth century.
It’s become a truism that, following the 2016 EU referendum, the UK has been split essentially in half. The “Leave” half – if half is what it is – is “led” now by an Etonian felon. It seems very possible, even likely, that – post-Brexit – the country will fragment yet further, from small ship to flotilla of dinghies.
And all this splitting has arisen from an argument over whether or not to split from the EU.
Maybe the EU has never really been the point. Maybe we’ve just grown addicted to splitting and being led and misled by people unfit.
“For Whom the Bell Tolls” and”Divide and Rule” are obvious references here.
The Parrot has dropped by at Number 10 once before, and quite recently. But this stanza probably belongs more with the previous stanza below this one, than with his first visit.
It’s a matter of perching carefully on a window still, out of sight. The parrot does not request entry at the front door. He is no twisted advisor in a track suit. He is an exuberant listening bug.
The Tories were holding their annual conference. The “Get Brexit Done” slogan was everywhere and government sponsored adverts supporting Brexit were apparently going up in primary schools. The toad was leaping about to toadie applause, the beetle was sidling about to toadie terror. The rain was lashing down. The climate crisis was being fought over…
