Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Yet another modest proposal...

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.

19 comments:

Anonymous said...

Have you ever seen one of those big forestry shredders which can dispose of mature trees in twenty seconds flat? Makes great mulch by the way.

Peter Horne said...

Suggest a visit to the delightful "Three Legged Mare" in whose beer garden stands the medieval contrivance whence the pub gains its name.

http://www.visityork.org/thedms.asp?dms=13¶m1=eating&venue=1500341

This was a device whereby convicted felons might be hanged three at a time. What could be finer than enjoying a pint of delicious foaming ale or a light lunch whilst gleefully executing a member of each of the three main political parties at the same time?

I rest my case.

Roger Thornhill said...

The moment the device was mentioned up flashed in my mind "Dover".

Spot on.

Andy said...

My idea is a bit mafia, and it comes with a potential 'get out clause'. We put the politicos feet into a bucket of cement, and superglue a small hack saw to their right hand. Then throw them into the sea. Kind of a sink or swim 'witch hunt' style affair, but with the choice of living being entirely theirs. We could add in the use of medieval catapaults to launch them into the sea, to make it more family orientated.

Andy said...

...actually, although it is a lot of fun to dream about inventive and enjoyable ways of killing the scum that misrule us, I can't help thinking that making them do the good old fashioned 'tyburn gig' would be the most apt, and the most entertaining. None of this 'long drop' stuff though, just slow twitching at the end of a rope. It would be a real crowd puller.

Jackart said...

Look, Your heart's in the right place, but let's face it, being launched from a trebuchet is not exactly a slow and painful death. In fact it's quick and merciful. Shame on you.

Mac the Knife said...

Jackart - to be fair I did mention igniting them, and there's no limitation on the duration of the pre-launch phase. I also chose the trebuchet to maximise their flight time, so for a relaxing and enjoyable evening out I really must stand by my choice... :)

Mark Wadsworth said...

Ta for the link.

My idea was to line 49 of them up with nooses round their necks, and then draw lots for the first one. But as a dying wish, each one is allowed to nominate the next one to die!

The atmosphere! The side bets! The insults!

Mark Wadsworth said...

49 is because it'd be like the lottery.

Mac the Knife said...

Mr. W, my pleasure. What's to stop us betting on how far the tossers fly?

Mark Wadsworth said...

That's the point. Once you factor in the revenue from betting on who nominates whom and hot-dog vendors at the public events plus TV rights etc, the whole revolution would be self-financing.

If you go for the trebuchet, you can have side bets on how far they fly (Prescott - not very far), if you go for hanging, you can bet on whether the rope snaps (Prescott - highly likely), the possibilities are endless.

Mac the Knife said...

You're right, this is a genuine political eureka moment!

Prodicus said...

Ah yes! :-)

Anonymous said...

Why don't we just burn them?

I mean over a slow fire with no smoke so they won't be able to asphyxiate first. They'll roast, slowly, from the feet onwards. Horizontal of course, so they don't pass out through falling blood pressure, and the dripping fat doesn't catch fire under their heads. I suggest, for humanity's sake, that they be shot in the head after about half an hour.

Mac the Knife said...

forty-five minutes I think, and then used for pig-food. That should satisfy the enviromentally inclined eh? And your point about not exposing them to passive smoke is well taken. Still strikes me as a little on the merciful side though... :)

Snowolf said...

Of course Mac, you have relied on the clemency of the English weather. Sitting atop the cliffs is all very well on a nice evening, but it wouldn't be quite so pleasant on a rainy day. There must be a wet weather alternative.

I propose the Millenium Dome, a most fitting venue, with the spectators' area behind hockey style plexiglass. Enter the hapless politico smeared in jam. The lights go down as the elephant sized genetically engineered mega-ant enters the arena. Then. . . well, I don't think I have to draw a picture.

Mac the Knife said...

SW. Oh, I like that... :)

Mac the Knife said...

It has the air of 'In the vicarage if wet'...

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