Opher’s Jubilee Special

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a very entitled son of a robber barron. His family had amassed great wealth and fortune through pillage, rape and conquest.

He had an idea. He thought there was even greater wealth and power to be had. He contacted other robber barons and sold them the idea. What’s in it for us they asked? Wait and see, he told them.

They came across to England, defeated all the armies put up against them, raped and pillaged, and laid claim to all the land. He crowned himself king.

The king took the lion’s share of England. He allowed the Church a good portion, for the church gave credence to the sovereignty of the king and also controlled the people and helped keep them subjugated in their place. The rest of the land the new king parcelled out to the robber barons who had supported him.

The people were allowed to live on the bits of land the king allowed just so long as they paid their taxes and caused no trouble.

With the taxes raised the king built castles and palaces, raised armies to extend his kingdom (venturing into Wales, Scotland and Ireland to pillage and rape), lived the life of Riley with fine clothes, feasts, festivals, fun and servants, and gave generously to his robber baron supporters.

Thus it went down the ages through succession, civil wars, canny marriages, warring excursions and the odd hiccup.

We arrive at the present day.

The Church owns .5% of Britain (with a couple of billion in real estate). Millions of acres were forcibly taken from it by Henry VIII during the Reformation.

The aristocracy owns 30%.

50% of Britain is owned by just 1% of the population.

So I suppose we have come a long way in taking our own land back – the land that was stolen from us by the robber barons hundreds of years ago – but we still have a way to go!

The church currently owns around 160,000 acres. The Royal Family own 320,000 acres. I would lay bets that this land does not mainly consist of mountains, bogs and marshes. I bet they make a tidy profit.

So this week we have the Royal Jubilee where we are supposed to give thanks to the heirs of the robber barons for kindly ruling over us, extracting tithes from us and allowing us to live. To this end, we wave flags, put up bunting, hold parties, buy a huge assortment of royal junk and sit for days to gawp at royalty.

Excuse me if I do not metaphorically doff my cap and celebrate.

What spiffing fun!! Johnson using nostalgia for a time that never was to distract us from his lies and lawbreaking!!

Here we go!! Johnson is trying to tap into the Brexit theme that worked so well for him. He thinks there’s mileage in it and that we are all stupid! He thinks he can distract us from reality so we forget about the incompetence, lies and entitlement.

He really does think we are fools.

Back to Imperial measurements! Instead of using a decimal system that makes sense, we are heading back to the distant past!

He knows the old folk like pounds and ounces so we’re bringing back the barleycorn, leagues, rods, perches, furlong, cubit and coomb. He reckons that people having to work out how many bovales and virgates are in a carucate it’ll take their minds off him and his partying.

It’ll be great for schools too! Instead of dividing things by units of ten they’ll be all manner of numbers flying about.

Kids will spend many happy hours working out how many tierces, chaldrons, drachm and minims there are in a bushel and peck. Forget decimals and simple units – what we want are sixteens, fourteens and difficult sums!

Then we can bring back farthings, bobs, crowns, tanners, florins, angels, marks and groats! Surely we can work out things in twelves, twenties and two hundred and forties!

Bloody foreigners!! Imposing simple systems on us!!

Little did those EU twats know that we really craved nails, cloves and tods!! We love a good dram, Jack, Gill and pottle or a firkin – just as long as it has the Queen’s head on it!!

Johnson’s on a winner here!! He’s already brought back starving children and impoverished families just like in Dicken’s time! With a bit of luck he can bring back football hooliganism and get the murder rate back up to Victorian standards!

Kids will be so taxed trying to work out the weights, measurements and currency that they won’t have time to study politics!

Forget how many billions it cost us to change over to bloody metric! Chuck it all out and let’s get back to worshipping the robber barons!!

We’ll soon be forgetting about this incompetent bunch of profiteers and liars!!

Dunster Castle – Devon.

As it was a gloomy day we decided to have a look at the castle. I like old things. Looking back at history reminds me how bloody and gory it was and what massive inequality existed.

There were the famous leather tapestries showing scenes from Anthony and Cleopatra.

One interesting fact was that the sea used to come right up to the front of the castle where all those green fields are. With global warming it probably will again.

Poetry – Robber Barons

Robber Barons

Robber Barons down the years

With no compassion in their hearts

Practice their cruel brutality

With gleeful brazen treachery.

With arrogance sufficient to sink a ship

They strut and preen and snarl

Stab, torture

And laugh,

Stamping down the bewildered

With delight.

They rode amid the blood and guts

Roaring, slashing, trampling

With gay abandon

To steal the fruits of other’s labors

And love it all the more

For the agony

They create.

Once with chainmail and sword

They roared.

Now armed with a suit and pen,

Sweet words

And reassurance.

Their cold eyes

Belie the intrinsic pleasure

As they strip you naked

And leave you for dead.

Shaking your hand with a smile

As they grip you by the throat

And never relax the vice-like grip

Upon your balls.

Opher 23.2.2018

There are a psychotic, sociopathic group of men, mainly men, who have operated down the centuries to rampage and destroy, rape, torture and strip bare. Their callous viciousness attracts like-twisted monsters who go along for the ride. They plunder all they can and enjoy the anguish and destruction they leave in their wake.

In a harsh environment people put their energies into creating harmony and clawing a living out of the ground. They slowly build up and create comfort for their family, storing up resources over the decades, only to find all their toil undone. 

In a matter of minutes the hordes rampaged through ravishing, burning, plundering and laying waste. Rape and torture is their currency. Havoc is their joy. For it is easier to rip the goods of others from their hands than to produce it oneself.

When they rode off through the smoke the survivors gathered to survey the carnage, bury the dead and attempt to rebuild their lives.

These robber barons ruled the land, built the castles and became the law. They stole all they could, enclosed it, claimed it and held it by force.

They are still there. Their land is still walled off. The newbies wear they suits and flash their perfect smiles as they strip you of your life.

They’ve always enjoyed the agony. One man’s freedom is another man’s terror.

Poetry – Now they sit

Now they sit

Once upon a time the land was ruled

By a bunch of robber barons

Who took what they wanted by force –

A squalid set of felons.

With brutality, cruelty and murder

They terrified every woman, child and man

Built their castles and seized the land.

With sword and dagger they plundered

In an orgy of greed – a despicable band.

The tyrants and thieves terrorised

Taking the best for their own use.

Requisitioning land and taxing the poor,

Dealing out violence and abuse.

Gradually the majority exerted their power

And civilisation was brought into play.

But those Robber Barons still sat on the wealth

They had squirrelled away.

Using their money and through use of their power

They control us until this day.

A selfish elite of greedy exploiters

Who believe they deserve what comes their way.

Once they were slavers and factory bosses,

Keeping down pay

And never counting their losses.

Once they ran the empire

To extract all its wealth,

Creating wars and division

And ruling by stealth.

People believe they are a thing of the past

Long consigned to history,

But they still exist on the spoils of their crimes.

It’s no mystery.

Once they led the bestial hordes.

Now they sit in the House of Lords.

Opher – 17.6.2020

Down through the centuries the robber barons have ruled. Nothing changes. Their dynasties extend back into the days when they rampaged and slaughtered at will.

Now their ways are more subtle. They use privilege and wealth, corruption and connections, to ensure they have luxury.

They are still exploiting.

Robber Barons – a poem about freedom and terror.

Robber Barons

 

Robber Barons down the years

With no compassion in their hearts

Practice their cruel brutality

With gleeful brazen treachery.

With arrogance sufficient to sink a ship

They strut and preen and snarl

Stab, torture

And laugh,

Stamping down the bewildered

With delight.

They rode amid the blood and guts

Roaring, slashing, trampling

With gay abandon

To steal the fruits of other’s labors

And love it all the more

For the agony

They create.

Once with chainmail and sword

They roared.

Now armed with a suit and pen,

Sweet words

And reassurance.

Their cold eyes

Belie the intrinsic pleasure

As they strip you naked

And leave you for dead.

Shaking your hand with a smile

As they grip you by the throat

And never relax the vice-like grip

Upon your balls.

 

Opher 23.2.2018

 

 

There are a psychotic, sociopathic group of men, mainly men, who have operated down the centuries to rampage and destroy, rape, torture and strip bare. Their callous viciousness attracts like-twisted monsters who go along for the ride. They plunder all they can and enjoy the anguish and destruction they leave in their wake.

In a harsh environment people put their energies into creating harmony and clawing a living out of the ground. They slowly build up and create comfort for their family, storing up resources over the decades, only to find all their toil undone.

In a matter of minutes the hordes rampaged through ravishing, burning, plundering and laying waste. Rape and torture is their currency. Havoc is their joy. For it is easier to rip the goods of others from their hands than to produce it oneself.

When they rode off through the smoke the survivors gathered to survey the carnage, bury the dead and attempt to rebuild their lives.

These robber barons ruled the land, built the castles and became the law. They stole all they could, enclosed it, claimed it and held it by force.

They are still there. Their land is still walled off. The newbies wear they suits and flash their perfect smiles as they strip you of your life.

They’ve always enjoyed the agony. One man’s freedom is another man’s terror.

Robber Barons – a poem.

There are a psychotic, sociopathic group of men, mainly men, who have operated down the centuries to rampage and destroy, rape, torture and strip bare. Their callous viciousness attracts like-twisted monsters who go along for the ride. They plunder all they can and enjoy the anguish and destruction they leave in their wake.

In a harsh environment people put their energies into creating harmony and clawing a living out of the ground. They slowly build up and create comfort for their family, storing up resources over the decades, only to find all their toil undone.

In a matter of minutes the hordes rampaged through ravishing, burning, plundering and laying waste. Rape and torture is their currency. Havoc is their joy. For it is easier to rip the goods of others from their hands than to produce it oneself.

When they rode off through the smoke the survivors gathered to survey the carnage, bury the dead and attempt to rebuild their lives.

These robber barons ruled the land, built the castles and became the law. They stole all they could, enclosed it, claimed it and held it by force.

They are still there. Their land is still walled off. The newbies wear they suits and flash their perfect smiles as they strip you of your life.

They’ve always enjoyed the agony.

 

Robber Barons

 

Robber Barons down the years

With no compassion in their hearts

Practice their cruel brutality

With gleeful brazen treachery.

With arrogance sufficient to sink a ship

They strut and preen and snarl

Stab, torture

And laugh,

Stamping down the bewildered

With delight.

They rode amid the blood and guts

Roaring, slashing, trampling

With gay abandon

To steal the fruits of other’s labors

And love it all the more

For the agony

They create.

Once with chainmail and sword

They roared.

Now armed with a suit and pen,

Sweet words

And reassurance.

Their cold eyes

Belie the intrinsic pleasure

As they strip you naked

And leave you for dead.

Shaking your hand with a smile

As they grip you by the throat

And never relax the vice-like grip

Upon your balls.

 

Opher 23.2.2018