Bard Billot on Labor’s blundering bagman
The Quest of David
So it was that Duke Dave of the House of Parker
set out from Queens Landing
to seek the Holy Grail of Revenue.
He was surrounded by a ceremonial guard
of 900 communications staffers
and perception management consultants.
They wandered up from the gentle meadows
to the rugged foothills;
then made slow going from the foothills
into the narrow crevasses;
and the crevasses grew cobwebbed and murky
and conversation dried up.
“Lo, I have been reading the French philosopher
Thomas of Piketty,” pondered the Duke.
“Mmmm,” said the Chief Illusionist
as he scribbled his invoice out
on a 20-foot papyrus scroll.
The Duke drew his Magic Sword
from its bejeweled scabbard.
“I think it is high time to rationalize booty tax
on moneylenders usury to fund our Quest,”
the Duke mused to his attentive troops.
“Mmhmm,” said the Assistant Sub Illusionist
as he perused a fine vintage Tik Tok.
Then it was they came upon
the sunlit uplands;
and lay a great empty field before them
bathed in the afternoon light.
On the far side was a small cairn of rocks;
and on the top was a Golden Crown
that beckoned most winsomely.
“Lo, I have come across the Grail!”
saith the Duke as he hurried forwards.
Yet a new formation was forming behind him,
as the 900-strong ceremonial guard
of Public Relations Ninjas and Gold-shod Consultants
started to shuffle nervously backwards.
“Forward to Glory!” shouted the oblivious Duke.
Lo, and on the opposite heights
a mighty battalion from the House of Blue
stood around whistling, with burning torches
and a battery of high-powered cannons.
With great cheer they lit the fuses;
and there was a mighty thunder.
Then a host of Creatures of the Night
swarmed across the field
and the Duke momentarily disappeared
under the warty fund managers, the gruesome pundits
and the foul and unspeakable Tribe of Boomers.
When the thunder and swarming was finished
the stunned Duke stood covered in soot upon
the blackened field, with his underdrawers
sitting on the top of his head.
“What happened, O perception managers?”
hey croaked
And a young perception managing internally
was given the grievous task of delivering
the memo, and skipping lightly across the field,
handeth Duke Dave an envelope with the Royal Seal.
In the delicate hand of The Red Queen,
the enclosed note readeth:
“The Quest for the Holy Grail
is hereby cancelled.”
Victor Billot has previously felt moved to compose Odes for such luminaries ascounterspin, Sam Uffindell, Bishop Brian, the Prime Minister, Mike Hosking, and Garrick Tremain.
