Invasion Talks and Putin Summit – Could This Spell War?
Letter from Llanaber
...Global politics seen through life in this strange tiny village in West Wales...
It is rare that I get so concerned about the future prospects for our village that I actually lose sleep, but I am so worried that I didn’t get my full ten hours last night.
Why? (I hear you ask).
Two events, separate in themselves, but combining to put a huge looming black thundercloud on the horizon for me, my family, and the whole of the village. Let me tackle them separately so as to fill you in with what has happened.
Event number one:
I was fortunate enough to be present at the first ever official council meeting between Druidellau and Llanaber. In my capacity as village ‘minute taker’ I was told to sit on the stool in the corner with my ‘trap shut’ while the leader of our parish council, Mrs. Dorothy ‘Binky’ Trim, and her counterpart from Druidellau, Mr. Benjy Yahoo, had their history making carousal.
Before I come to the point, let me fill you in with a few details.
Druidellau is a rich village (the Druids are a tribe that are very good with money). They have an on-going dispute with a tribe called the Travelers over who owns the Arcade along the seafront in their village. The Travelers are plentiful in number but dirt poor. The dispute between these two tribes is long running and there are frequent skirmishes between the two. However, the Druids have an army of thugs with ‘devil dogs’ but the Travelers’ entire arsenal of weapons consists of balls of wet sand. The dominance of the Druids goes without saying, and they have kept all the Travelers corralled on a single sand dune on the beach, and only allow them the use of one hose pipe for water. This they frequently switch off for entertainment purposes, especially on hot days, when they want to see the Travelers’ tongues hanging out and watch the Traveler maidens trying to launder their clothes with sand.
This blatant cruelty has not gone unnoticed and many other villagers in the county have been known to lodge protests against the Druids with Gwynedd county council. It is all pointless, though, as the head of the council is the king of the Druids. So, nothing ever happens, and the Travelers continue in their life of misery.
But this doesn’t prevent Druidellau constantly being vilified in village newsletters, and Benjy Yahoo has been told by the king of the Druids to ‘extractum digitum’ and do something about it, hence the summit meeting with Mrs. T.
The Druids are trying to get Mrs T to endorse a planned push by the Druids to rid the Druidellau beach of Travelers once and for all. The poor buggers would have no land to call their own and would be forced to set up their homes either in the quicksand ridden marshes of Bogbourne or in the sea. I will come to Bogbourne in more detail later.
Something else you will need to know is that there is a failing village to our south called Spanibont. Economically, it’s on the bones of its arse, and they have a gang of ‘rowdies’ that frequently cross the border between our two villages causing mischief and selling their recreational drugs at discount prices far below those of the official village pusher, ‘Iolo the Dope.’
Further, Spanibont has just had an election in which it ousted the previous head of their council, the gangster Niente Niente, and elected a far left reformer, Gabriel Alejandro Fredrico Facundo Emilio Ricardo Thiago Agustin Pablo Estrada (Gaffertape for short).
I recently met with Gaffertape to ask him if he wouldn’t mind building, at his own expense, a 3ft high fence made with wood and nails along the border between our two villages to keep his rowdies out of our village. To my surprise he said no.
“I’d rather spend the money on things that benefit my people,” the selfish twonk told me!
When I reported this back to Mrs. T she went apoplectic and started ranting on about going to war with them. She’d had a few glasses of the local brew, ‘journey into space,’ so I took no notice, but advised her never to say such thing again, especially in public.
This brings me to my point.
The meeting between Benjy Yahoo and Mrs. T took place in her office. Benjy arrived first and I sat him down with a cup of coffee and a lump of Bara Brith (a local confection made from bread ingredients and sawdust very popular with the villagers). When Mrs. T entered the room the first thing she said was, “My staff told me not to say this.” She then ranted on in great detail about plans she was drawing up to invade Spanibont! Further, she asked for the loan of Benjy’s devil dogs for a week. To my horror the Druish sadist winked at Mrs. T and said, “Binky, you scratch my back, already, eh?” She replied, “The left hand washes the right, Benje, know what I mean?”
Which brings me on to event number two:
Not long ago the gangster that owns the amusement arcade on the seafront in Llanaber, Putin Lotzadosh, unilaterally ‘annexed’ a piece of parish council land called Bogbourne. He tried to buy it off the parish but Mrs. T reluctantly couldn’t let him. It’s been village property for centuries so a sale was unconscionable.
He went ahead and took it anyway, his thugs putting up notices saying that Bogbourne was now part of Putin’s ‘fruit machine’ empire. He claimed his actions were necessary and unavoidable, as he had nowhere else to store his collection of life-sized models of missiles, tanks and submarines.
Bogbourne is a desolate and dangerous place, but important to the parish council. It’s where we keep our ‘out of datecode’ people. The village doesn’t have a graveyard so we utilize the quicksand to get rid of the old buggers’ corpses when they drop off the twig.
So, there has been ‘bad blood’ between the normally affable thug Putin and Mrs. T. Something needed to be done to clear the air, especially as the ‘out of datecoders’ had been dropping like flies since Putin took over (It’s rumoured that he wanted rid of them all, so he’d been sending his thugs out in the night to smear ‘unknown substances’ on their front doors).
I have been ordered by Mrs. T to set up a summit meeting between the two of them. This I duly did. The meeting is to take place on neutral territory, i.e. in Putin’s front room, and will happen on July 13 (unlucky for some!). When I told Mrs. T it was all arranged I asked her if she was worried about meeting ‘the beast from the east’ in his lair. What she said stumped me. I quote her words below verbatim:
“Do you know what? Putin’s fine, he’s fine, we’re all fine, we’re people. Will I be prepared? Totally prepared – I have been preparing for this stuff my whole life, they don’t say that.”
However, I noticed that her hands were shaking uncontrollably, and she had just wet her pants.
FYI – Later that day, I was trailing through used news feed ticker tape in the parish council. I came across a string of ticker tape with exactly the same words as Mrs. T had used. The article was about Trump’s insane planned invasion of Venezuela and his upcoming meeting with ‘Vlad the Bad’ Putin.
Isn’t life strange?
Getting back to my point, if mad Mrs. T is considering invading Spanibont, and simultaneously at risk of going up against Putin Lotzadosh and all his might, then I do not see a quiet future for the village. In such conflicts it is inevitable that ‘the innocent’ suffer.
In this case ‘the innocent’ is me. I can see the old bag telling me to dig out the village catapult so we can ‘be prepared for war.’ But it’s a useless pile of old junk and no match for either the Spanibont rowdies or Putin’s thugs. Either enemy is capable of kicking ‘seven shades of dottle’ out of the bunch of wheezing idiots we have as our village defense volunteers, the ‘stick it to ‘ems.’
Let’s’ hope that if events overtake us and conflict ensues, Benjy is true to his word and lends us his devil dogs.
That’s it for now.
Photo by www.kremlin.ru || CC-BY-4.0 International