Saturday, 24 May 2008

A visit to the Oil Tanks

The oil price soared to a new record for the third day in a row today. The man who watches over my Oil Lake came back from his holiday in Andalusia today - so I decided to tackle him about the cause of this oil shortage.

He is a little dark and oily and claims to be a Don, or Spanish gentleman, from Andalusia. He says he lost all his money by speculating in silver foxes; and he's working for me till he gets enough money to retire. He speaks English with a rather rough accent, as he learned it at a sailors' lodging house near the docks when he landed penniless in England many years ago. He is a thoroughly good oil watcher in most ways but he does have an infernal habit of smoking on the job - which as you can imagine is hardly a very safe practice. I live in fear of the whole place going up in smoke someday.

The way to the oil lake is behind the stove in the kitchen. It runs out from the wall on rails, and behind it you see the opening of a passage. Then there are seven steel doors to unlock, each one with a very complicated set of keys, and between each door is a short passage paved with very slippery round stones. When you have passed through the last door you slide down a well-oiled slope to the lack.

The lake is huge in size and very charming to look at, although it's underground, because its' lit up by thousands of electric bulbs of all colours - but after the tiresome journey I had not arrived in the best of moods.

I was not best pleased to find Guzman sitting with his feet up in a barge, feasting from a large basket of fruit and nuts, whilst he idly read a paper and smoked a large cigar !

I called out to him "Guzman, bring that barge into shore at once! Don't you know we have a crisis?"

Guzman was his usual sulky and defensive self.

"Whaz Up, Sir? Crisis wha' Crisis? I just havin' a liddle smoke. It get dull down 'ere continually watchin' oil."

I explained to him about the shortage of oil and asked him if he could account for the drying up of the supply.

"Well, Sir, you know I is not one to be casting the aspersions but it was your orders, Sir, to add the extra pipealine?" he said.

I was dumbfounded. "What extra pipeline?" I demanded.

"Why, the one your pretty little new lady assistant ask for!" he retorted.

"Look - here come lovely lady! - she check every morning to make sure fuel pumping O.K." he added.

We looked around and were aghast to see Hitmouse all dressed up in his 'Little Liz' gear making his way towards the lake.

"That's no lady - that's Hitmouse you fool!" I shouted at Guzman.

At this point Guzman went red with embarrassment - he had clearly developed some affection for the "pretty little new lady assistant" and allowed "her' to wrap him around "her" little finger.

On seeing us - Hitmouse made to escape, throwing skewers behind him as he ran. Attempting to rescue his dignity, Guzman took after him - managing to hit him on the head with an enamel jug.

So at least we have an explanation for the oil shortage and the Badfort Crowd's river of oil. Hopefully this will put paid to their 68' Uprising celebrations.

I feel badly in heed of a holiday after all this kerfuffle - I shall take a well earned break at Sunset Beach. I'll report on my excursion when I return.

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Friday, 23 May 2008

May 68

I have not been able to post for some time because I have been having to deal with the crisis brought on by the oil shortage that has developed.

Sadly, this does not appear to have put a stop to the Badfort Crowd's celebrations of the fortieth anniversary of the May 1968 Badgertown uprising. Indeed, they have created a flaming river of burning oil around Badfort beside which they have been dancing and having wild, Black Tom fueled, parties.

They have also put on an exhibition of the disgraceful art that the Badfort Popular Front created at the time. These were stuck up around Badgertown on a daily basis during the heat of struggle. At the time I was only beginning my entrepreneurial endeavours but as you can see I was already a target for their vicious attacks.

As you can see - one of the posters featured a squashed bicycle, a libelous reference to the incident when I borrowed a bicycle and had an unfortunate accident.

The radical students took to chaining broken bicycles all over Badgertown, in order to taunt me about the incident. Here are some photos taken at this most dangerous time of total upheaval in the history of Badgertown.

In the preface to the exhibition, Beaver Hateman together with his cohorts who helped to produce the posters, says they are “weapons in the service of the struggle”.

They add that “their rightful place is in centres of conflict, that is to say, in the streets and on the walls of the factories... This is why the Badfort Crowd has always refused to put them on sale. This selection of posters conjures up a radical past and will hopefully inspire a reaction against complacency. The ideas behind this uprising, and its spontaneous and rebellious outpouring in graphic art, should be utilised by us all. Down with Uncle!"

However – be prepared to be sickened by a visit to the gallery shop for examples of this work. Each poster has been “artistically recreated” and can be yours for the princely sum of £150 each!

Beaver claims that the money is going towards "the struggle" but judging by the amount of Black Tom being consumed I think we all can guess the truth.

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Friday, 2 May 2008

The Best Man Wins!

Well, that was a close run election!

All through the count the candidates were neck and neck. In fact, at the end of the day all of them had exactly the same number of votes.

It was at that point that I remembered that I had purchased a little pied-à-terre, for the Old Monkey, in Badgertown. He uses it to meet up with his old pals from the jungle, and they reminisce about past escapades over a banana daiquiri or two.

Does that mean that he is entitled to vote in the election? - I wondered to the King of the Badgers.

"Indeed it does!" he exclaimed. It was a little unusual to allow someone to vote after the polling stations had been closed, he said, but they could certainly make an exception for such a distinguished citizen as the Old Monkey.

So, Hoorah! - Noddy Ninety was declared the winner (after I had advised the Old Monkey on the best way to cast his vote).

That what I like to see - Democracy in action!

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