It's My Party and I'll ban who I want to

The Badfort party's latest quest for political respectability collapsed in fiasco when its leader, Beaver Hateman, was barred from the Unc's garden party at Homeward just two hours before it was due to begin after the Old Monkey decided he had exploited his invitation for financial gain.

Announcing the decision, the Old Monkey said brusquely: "Beaver Hateman will be denied entry to today's garden party at Homeward. As you know, it is traditional for there to be a friendly game of spigots at the annual party held on the lawns by the moat. It has been discovered that unusual bets had been laid on the outcome of the game - not only is this illegal and grossly discourteous but I have also been informed that bribes were offered to one player to give our dear Uncle a hefty blow on his trunk, in a feigned miss hit."

Uncle declared "In the prevailing spirit of conciliation, I offered the hand of friendship to my sworn enemy. Why should we only make truce at Christmas? I was willing to offer him hospitality at my annual Summer get together, as well. I was even prepared for the fact that I would have to put up with one or two insulting renditions of 'The Tyrant of Homeward'. But to cheat at Spigots - unforgivable!"

Hateman said "This is quite amazing news. This spurious Spigots story reveals that Unc was desperate for any excuse to bar me. I am held to a different standard to everyone else. The truth is that the fat dictator is frightened of the support the Badfort Crowd receives from the disgruntled, exploited, citizens of Homeward. I don't care anyway - his cucumber sandwiches stink!”

Book Conspiracy

Brad posted the following comment, here, yesterday:

Dear Uncle,

To spite the Badfort tribe I have a proposition for you. I hope that with your influence and widespread appeal on twitter we may get the remaining four volumes of your biography published. Post the New York Review Books' link to recommend a new title on your twitter: http://www.nybooks.com/books/recommend-book/

Tell everyone to give a spirited plea for a reprint of at least "Uncle and his Detective". I read a statistic that the NYRB only needs to sell around 5000 copies of a book to make a profit on the average cost of the rights to said book. So, if several hundred people write in within a month, let's say, they will know there is business to be had with Uncle. I hope you try this, as I am all eagerness to read your life story to my young niece. You are our favorite presiding pachyderm.

Best Wishes, Brad

What a splendid idea! My biographies are, of course, never out of print, here, at Homeward. Unfortunately, we are not able to offer a mail order service but you are all welcome to come and purchase them at the Homeward Souvenir Shop.

Many a young dwarf has come up to me and thanked me for the sage advice contained within and describing how my many adventures inspired them to turn from a dissolute life to one of entrepreneurship and good citizenry.

The Old Monkey is convinced that there is a conspiracy to keep my books off the shelves, masterminded by disgruntled politicians.

Clearly, sales of my biographies would massively outnumber titles such as 'The Audacity of Hope' or Mister Blair's forthcoming autobiography 'The Journey'.

I, myself, suspect that the answer is closer to home. I have it on good authority that publishers are reluctant to reprint my books out of fear of reprisals from the Badfort Crowd.

My Beach House

You will have noticed that I have not had the opportunity to pen my adventures, here, on the interweb over the last few months.

The Old Monkey and I have been very busy, recently, overseeing the design and build of my own little Beach House, by Wizard Blenskinsop, at my favourite resort - Sunset Beach.



As you can see, it has been built in the modernist tradition of Homeward. Sadly, the local council refused me permission for a tower in the middle but it has many of the attributes of that great citadel. There are lots of secret passages - and even the Wizard admits that he does not know the purpose or destination of them. There are 120 rooms - 90% of which are underground and can only be accessed via water chutes.

The only blot in the landscape is, as usual, a certain abode at the end of the garden owned by Beaver Hateman and his cronies.

Beaver claims that it was donated to the cause by an old man who claimed to have played a mayor opart in the Russian Revolution of 1917. This seems a fanciful story to me, and I suspect the rumour that he won it in a rigged game of Spigots is nearer the truth.

As you can see, it is an utter eyesore.



It is almost as ugly as Badfort itself.

I have also been busy embracing the new style of politics that is against pointless regulation and unnecessary bureaucracy. I have asked the public of Homeward how they want me to redress the balance between the citizen and myself.

Unfortunately, this has led to the usual silly responses. The dwarfs have said that they want the law repealing that allows the fine old tradition of dwarf throwing.

The grey squirrels want to repeal the requirement to report the sighting of them in your back garden to the Old Monkey. However, everyone knows that they are renowned for their scavenging ways and are not to be trusted.

Beaver Hateman, not surprisingly, wants the law repealed preventing the letting off of fireworks during my speeches.