This one on the topic of revenge, or just retribution if you prefer. If you look to the right of my illiterate drivellings, you will note a list of links to the stars of the bloggerati. Frequently, when addressing the inadequacies and peccadillos of our 'leaders', they're prone to suggest methods by which we may be rid of these turgid titwanks. These usually take the form of a variation on the simple 'rope, lamp-post, gibbet, hang 'em high' schtick. This is well enough so far as it goes, after all the subjects will be dead which is the primary objective of the excercise. However, we'll be forced to discover if they stink worse dead than alive, and we'll still have to look at the bastards. On the upside, they're (eventually) biodegradable, and if there's a severe cold snap then the bluetits'll have something to peck at.
Nevertheless, I'm bound to ask if this is sufficient. For individuals whose use and application of vitriol not only provides a daily diet of delight, but occasionally reaches transcendent levels; the methods of disposal suggested display a baffling paucity of imagination.
True, there are notable exceptions. Devil's Kitchen for example favours the use of sharpened cockroaches and candiru fish. Admittedly, the thought of one bunch of cockroaches being slashed to death by another group of cockroaches, and one pack of ghastly parasites having their genitals colonised by another has a pleasing symmetry; nonetheless the former seems far too labour intensive and the latter smacks of cruelty to animals (the fish, not the Westminster Shower of Shit).
Mr. Eugenides on the other hand once suggested feeding Kommissar Patsy Hewitt feet first into the whirling props of an aero-engine (it may have been a DC3 I can't off hand remember), but why ruin a decent engine and possibly damage a classic aircraft?
No, it simply won't do. We need a new and better solution, something that contributes to the gaiety and well-being of our nation; an equivalent to the re-opening of the theatres after the Restoration, but with a grand-guignol twist. What might it be? Ah! I have it! Public execution. Not for us the dullness of stretched necks and flying giblets however, oh no. Let's look at this from a fresh perspective, let's re-invent British barbarity for the 21st. Century.
This little fellow is a trebuchet. Our ancestors used them for bunging bloody great rocks and diseased carcasses at one another over great distances, and latterly St. Jeremy de Clarkson found they could fire a scabby little hatchback quite a fair old way.
Picture it. The time, a mild, warm evening in late August. The place, the White Cliffs of Dover. Sundry vile politicos are waiting in a pen, when one of their number is selected, dipped in napthalene, attached to the trebuchet, ignited and catapulted out over the English Channel.
What better way to spend an evening? Sitting on the tailgate of the Range Rover, Fortnum's hamper open at your side, sipping chilled Pol Roger as another little piggy flies shrieking over your head in the direction of it's spiritual(EU trough)home. In addition, possibly even with the naked eye our European neighbours will be able to share this example of what happens to underminers of British liberty.
Ahh, I hear you say, but Mac old boy, is this inclusive enough? Does it not smack of elitism? Will the vast majority of the people be able to engage with the concept? A valid question my dears, and in keeping with the interactive spirit of our age, I have another possibility with which to tantalise you.
A little more down market I grant you, but bear with me. This is a very simple mangonel. The Romans used this to chuck smaller things around, but with quite lethal effect if Tacitus is to be believed. But what shall we throw with it? Politicos? Nah, not nearly big enough. Wait a minute! What if we used it to throw things at politicos and assorted quango-weasels etc. etc.? Wouldn't that be fun? But how to make sure everyone gets a fair shake? How can it be done?
Simple my dears, our celebrity targets are hung on metal frames mounted on barges. The mangonels are a public amenity, permanently fixed at regular intervals along the bank of the river/canal whatever. Then members of the public can come along to scheduled sailings, bringing their own ammunition if they wish, say, balloons filled with stagnant urine; and commence au festivale! Or perhaps vending machines could be added to the bankside, filled with more imaginative fare, I don't know, putrefying roadkill, bags of dogshit, broken glass... The possibilities, as Eddie Izzard might say, are endless.
Feel free to add your suggestions, or even let your imaginations soar, and up the ante. I think I may be on to something here.