The Curmudgeon

YOU'LL COME FOR THE CURSES. YOU'LL STAY FOR THE MUDGEONRY.

Monday, September 21, 2020

Journal of the Plague Year

continued, by a Gentleman

To Weſtminſter Cathedral by Litter yeſter Forenoon, to attend the Baptiſing of our noble Prime Miniſter's lateſt Baſtard. Owing no doubt to the Fault of ſome unelected migratory Minion, I was denied Entry at the Door of the ſacred Edifice, with the piffling Excuſe that all Pews were taken up by previous Broods of Baſtards attending in hopes of profitable Employment in Her Majeſty's Service. I hear from my Lord Smyrkynge-Ephebophyle, who ſat within a dozen Rows of the Prime Miniſter's current Whore, that the Archbiſhop ſpoke with much Paſsion upon the Neceſsitie of reſtrayning the bodily Appetites of the Poor and Indigent, for Fear that they ſhould transform our green and pleaſant Land into a ſlimy pullulant Midden of beſtial Carnality, which virtuous Sentiment cauſes me ſome ſmall moral Diſcomfort, when I recall that my own Litter-bearers were ſtanding idle in the Street and prey to the Sin of Indolence. I have not yet been able to obtain ſuitable Blinkers to protect my Servants from Diſtraction in the Outdoors, and may ſhortly be forced to maſque their miſshapen Features with the ſevered and hollowed Heads of a pair of Horſes, in order that the uſual Blinkers may be ſnugly and ſatisfactorily fitted. This Meaſure would poſseſs the additional Advantage, of reſtraining their exceſsive and unforeſightful Breathing while a miaſmatick foreign Peſtilence is once more rampant in the Land. It hath ever been the Burden and Duty of the ruling Claſses to aſsume Reſponſibility towards the Unworthy, and our noble Prime Miniſter's lateſt Baſtard will have an hard Cheeſe to plough in this harſh World, with only the ſurly Ingratitude of his Tenant-farmers for earthly Recompenſe.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home