Dearly Beloved Sheeple
Spring is here. Daffodils are out in full yellow vested marching order, primroses are peaking primly, buds are about to burst. A good time, better weather, for everyone… er… except those frisky young lambs (and knackered old rams) in our flock awaiting, going up the ramps, for Abbatoir Day (AD).
The Ides of March (er…about now!) was marked, by the Romans, for religious observances and as a deadline for settling debts. This time of year, I am especially careful as I know that lurking amongst you, amongst us, there is a group of ‘traitors‘! There is a small radicalised group of you that want to me to meet my AD. Too soon! Too soon! Infamy! infamy!
I warn this dissident breakaway group of treacherous traitors that, as the Romans did, I shall be examining the poultry entrails and settling my debts (with you personally). I know who you are! My spies have discovered you. You are the EMpeas and I blame you! My dogs will shepherd you to be deselected for AD. You are not the EMpeas you are the EMPties.
Now that was pretty gruesome, wasn’t it! That’s nothing compared to the fate the young friskies in my beloved flock will meet.
So what do I think of the Plaid Cymru conference? Will my flock desert me for the siren bleats of the new ram leading the PC flock? I notice a few heads being turned. Discipline, my sheeple. Discipline! Get back in line or you will be whipped!
Breaking! It’s Mueller Time! Yes, it’s been leaked. Special Ram Mueller has run off into the woods to hide. Will there be a trumpocalypse? Will there be a special AD? Tune in for more later…