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“The only thing that would get the kitten shoes tapping would be a live performance of the EU Rule Book by Sadler’s Wells”

My, oh, my, what an eventful week! We have had an extraordinary number of visitors wishing to see the cathedral, no doubt spurred on by the wonderful weather. The Archdeacon organised an interesting display of prayer books in the Chapter House – it is quite splendid, you know, with carved grotesques dating from the 13th century (probably the work of the so-called Master of the Foolish Virgins, who we know was active in the Low Countries and whose innovative alabaster piece – The Last Breakfast – was rejected by the papacy for being unscriptural. I believe the companion carving, The Last Elevenses, is still in a private collection somewhere). But enough of Barchester news… there is a world of doings out there, and much to comment up on.

The Omniums are most put out. They had hoped to have hosted the ‘Big Trumpery Dinner’ on Thursday evening, though the Marlboroughs beat them too it. At least it meant that bizarrely-dressed woman from Downing Street didn’t have to be entertained, though one suspects the only thing that would get the kitten shoes tapping would be a live performance of the EU Rule Book by Sadler’s Wells. She has been described – by someone else – as ‘moving about like Miss Haversham with rickets’. One hopes the President and his lovely wife enjoyed Blenheim, which is after all much grander than Gatherum Castle and the only palace in England with a German name, which of course made Mrs. Dismay feel at home.

In my day the British Prime Minister did not trundle off to Berlin to check things out with Bismarck before presenting things to ministers and Parliament, but then the past is a foreign country and they do things differently there. Bismarck used to refer to Mr. Disraeli – affectionately I might add – as ‘Der Alte Jude’. One wonders what Reichskanzler Merkin calls Mrs. Dismay behind her back? This could be our new parlour game… suggestions please.

The Archdeacon was thunderstruck to read in The Jupiter that documents have been released under the 50-year Rule, revealing that Whitehall mandarins and the Blasted Heath knew full-well what the grand plan for Europe was, and that they considered the British people ‘too stupid’ to comprehend the complexity of the matter. They deliberately planned for the decline of Great Britain, had no qualms about surrendering sovereignty, but believed in the ‘boiling frog principle’ – that changes had to be made piecemeal so as not to be noticed until it was too late.

“If that is not treason,” exploded the Archdeacon, “then I don’t know what is! This country has been hollowed out by the Europhile termites of the Foreign Office – and it still goes on! We need a leader with cojones to deliver root and branch coppicing in every branch of government, cutting back the deadwood and removing corruption at a stroke. Why, Mrs. Dismay is even being advised by Ollie Stalinist for goodness sake! It is indeed regrettable that ‘Hampstead’ Heath was cremated, or we could have dug up the corpse and hanged it at Tyburn, just as Charles II did to Cromwell. As it is, we could find out where his ashes are interred and pee on them, all 17.4 million Brexiteers! The resulting puddle would be impressive, almost equivalent in volume as is bottled in Herr Juncker’s wine cellar.”

Speaking of ‘The Druncker’, he was rather wobbly on his feet at the NATO summit meeting. Luckily there was an entourage surrounding him, keeping him propped up. Lord Palmerston liked the odd tipple I recall – after a few bumpers he was ever-ready to send a gunboat up the Douro. Such larks!

Oh, I forgot to mention – the Citizen Khan balloon we ladies constructed last week is now flying over Barchester as promised. I note that our idea caught on, and there is one destined to be launched in the skies above the capital. Care was taken not to depict the mayor in any porcine way, as that would be offensive, but perhaps something rattish would strike the right note? Mr. Khan has defended his balloon in terms of the right to free speech, so it will be interesting to see if he attempts to thwart the counter-balloon, opening himself up to charges of hypocrisy – but then hypocrisy is a politician’ stock-in- trade, eh Mrs. Dismay?

The Stanhopes, now back in residence in their villa on the shores of Lake Como, report that the new government is doing sterling work in rolling back the tide of progressive virtue-signalling and migrant-mendaciousness. The Italians have had enough, and Signor Salvini has made it clear that his country will not take back any migrant who landed there but move on to pastures greener, i.e. Germany, France or The Netherlands. Quite right. Sadly, Spain has fallen to the Marxists and their new government are shipping in Africans by the tanker-load, people who will not assimilate and show no interest in European culture. President Trump is right to point this out – Western Europe is in danger of destroying its culture through progressive politics and orchestrated mass immigration. It will all end badly, mark my words.

Mr. Slope has packed away his wooden rattle, football scarf, and wiped the red-and-white make up from his face, for the hullabaloo of the World Cup is over, as far as England fans are concerned (are you surprised that our domestic chaplain is a follower of ball-kicking? You shouldn’t be. “Football is coming home,” they cried. No, it is not, and I for one am thankful. Perhaps now we can all immerse ourselves in the croquet season.

I shall end this missive by giving thanks for the brave souls who rescued the poor boys trapped in that cave in Thailand. I think the whole world held its breath during the days of this unfortunate event, for the operation to get the boys to safety was great, the challenges formidable. It is wonderful to have a happy ending, though we must not forget the bravery of the poor diver who lost his life in the attempt.

And so, as the Marie Antoinette of Chequers force-feeds the gullible with the cake of deceit and the tumbril of retribution prepares to remove her from Downing Street, let us rejoice that somebody at least is telling her like it is. Thank you, Donald.

Until next time…