More snow, more Noughties

More snow. The Badfort Crowd are still trapped here at Homeward and abusing my hospitality.

Beaver Hateman and I had another discussion about the past decade as we sat by the fireside in the Great Hall.

“Everyone wanted to stay young, didn’t they!” scoffed Beaver.

“Yes curious really, “ I responded “Best exemplified by the School Disco phenomenon, I suppose.”

The school disco idea had been Noddy Ninety’s. As you know, Noddy is ninety years old and loves to pretend he is a schoolboy of ten. He wears a little grey flannel jacket and a flaxen wig on his bald head. He has been expelled from Dr Augustus Lyre’s Select School for Young Gentlemen time and time again, yet he worms his way in again so cunningly that it’s only after several weeks that he is found out.



“Yeah,” said Beaver “who would have guessed that so many people had the same repressed urge to dress up in school uniform, like him. Got to give it to the old codger – he spotted an untapped marker there!”

“It’s a shame that his other interest did not prove more profitable – I believe his Model Railway Club only lasted a few weeks, perhaps the sound of steam whistles did not have a sufficiently mesmeric beat?” I mused.

“There were some interesting sartorial inventions in the decade – I seem to remember at one point you Badfort Crowd all took to wearing hoods?” I added.



“Yeah, and bloomin’ Cheapman banned us from his store!” shouted Beaver.

“Well, that might have something to do with the fact that Hitmouse was threatening shoppers with his skewers in order to bag the bargains at Cheapman’s many sales!” I rejoindered “I really don’t understand the need to search out bargains at Cheapman’s, it is not as if the non-sale prices are high – one can buy an armchair for a halfpenny”

“That’s becos you are rolling in it you big fat cat! We was making a good profit selling his stuff on ebay till we got banned!” retorted Beaver. “Then you stuck up gits nicknamed us Bavs!”

“When you started wearing lots of gold chains and Burberry, you mean?” I asked innocently.

“Listen mate, that was a subversive act – taking over a bastion of the Homeward elite!” he screamed “You don’t own Homeward as far as I’m concerned mate – you just got it on a long lease until the day of the revolution!”

“That would be the bling revolution, would it?” I laughed.



“You just wait and see, people will get tired of you billionaire playboys – there fed up with you wealthy celebrities meddling in finance and politics just cos you’ve got the money to get the results you want!” screamed Beaver.

I had to respond. “It is true that the last decade has been one in which I have become a world celebrity. That is because it has been a decade of meritocracy and I have personified this – a humble elephant from lowly beginnings now a giant figure on the world stage, my ideas feted…”

“Aww shut up you big windbag…Its your spending and conspicuous consumption (of vast quantities of food, mostly) that’s fascinated the poor folk” he interrupted.
“Uncle partying with Kate Moss, Uncle and his fabulous lifestyle, Uncle at the G2 summit blah, blah, blah, the media lap it up and you know it!” he spluttered. “Look a the scandal over those Brits, Mandelson and Osbourne, being entertained on your yacht!”

“That is grossly unfair. I would rather not be seen and not heard, I do not court celebrity. However, one tries to lead by example. I have risen to my position by extolling the virtues of good citizenship and entrepreneurship!” I countered.

“Oh yeah, peddling that idea that we can all get ahead! That bloomin’ Homeward Singing Contest guff…you can have it all…. fifteen minutes of fame and wealth beyond your dreams!” spluttered Beaver.

“The Homeward Singing Contest, as you well know, is the most popular television programme that the Badgertown Broadcasting Corporation transmit. It shows that fame and wealth can be gained by merit, in just the same way as I have achieved my status in the world!” I retorted.

“Huh, what sort of meritocracy is it when we still have the likes of Augustus Lyre’s Select School for Young Gentlemen?” screeched Beaver.

“Listen, Beaver, the class war is over. Look at that nice Mister Cameron, he went to a very similar school and he is a very ordinary man. I am not keen on his musical tastes, I admit. I prefer a nice bit of Schubert. However, he seems a good sort and although I like Gordon I am sure he is a man I can do business with.” I argued.

“Pah!, you think you got it all stitched up don’t you? – with your big smiles and your cosy fireside chats….you wait and see mate…” grumbled Beaver on and on.

Honestly, talk about throwing your generous hospitality back in your face!



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