Tweet
I am, as you all know, an imperial relic, living in the large open air museum to the west of France, commonly called 'The United Kingdom' (TUK)
We have many hangovers of empire ( one less now since the old bat keeled over), and many hangovers of beer (also whisky, gin, rum etc). I shall share one tale of the imperial past with you now.
erhem
Long long ago, in a universe.............oops, wrong start
Once upon a time, in Africa, there lived a tribe called the Zulus. Now these Zulus were very warlike and fierce, killing a different bunch of forigen peasants every year, one could say the Zulus were almost christian in their outlook.
Any way, one zulu general lost the favour of the king (dunno why; too merciful?) and before the king could dispatch warriors to carry out a punishment, the general upped sticks and headed north (that IS how u yankees phrase it init?). He took with him all the warriors of his regiment, their wives; their kids and their cattle. They went far enough north to be invisible from the Zulu kings, and then they established their own kingdom. Now that involved killing lots of people that already lived there and thought (mistakenly) that they had some rights of ownership, but after a couple of years, all the tribes that were left alive agreed to acknowledge the new king. So because they used to be zulus they crowned their general as king in style, with lots of dancing virgins, roasting cows, and a huge hand carved wooden thone as the center piece of the ritual. The coronation lasted a week, and the grass huts of the Royal Kraal were full of people sleeping off their hangovers for a fortnight.
The first king reigned for a good few years and was followed by one of his grandsons, who was crowned using the same magnificent ceremonies.
But then
came the Brits
The king (call him Fred) quickly saw the equation of spears vs rifles, and decided, before the Brits actually reached his lands, to become a british protectorate, this was so Fred could remain king and continue to kill the surrounding tribes as before, but with rifles to help. ( this is called thinking ahead).
And thats what happened.
u want some dates an stuff mow, dont u?
Well , the Brits apeared on the scene around 1895, cos Fred got to go to London to see the Great White Empress, and also to collect some free passes to public school for some of his sons.
But life didnt really change for Fred and his people, the Brits stopped them making war every year, they made them walk on the left hand side of tracks, and they tried to make them play cricket, but that was about all.
The bad thing is, Fred lived a long long time. In fact, he died in 1967. And that's when the trouble started. The Brits had given up on the empire thing in the 1950's, so Fred's nation had been independant for some years, and he had left no clear successor when he died. The result was civil war. It raged for years, half the population died, the population was desperate for a solution, so they recalled Fred's great great great grandson from Oxford (he was doing a Physics doctorate) to become their new king.
Peace at last! Every one was over joyed and threw themselves into the coronation ceremonies. (Free beer gets ppl exicted u know.) They had to find some of the old people they had left to get the details of the ceremonies, but they did manage to get things ready in time.
The great day dawned, the virgins (imported) were dancing, the cows were roasting (microwaved) and they brought out the huge throne to make the new king official. But HORROR! When he sat on it, it had been eaten by termites so that it fell apart.
the moral of this story is.............
People that live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
(appypolylogies to Asimov)
DECUS ET TUTAMEN
We have many hangovers of empire ( one less now since the old bat keeled over), and many hangovers of beer (also whisky, gin, rum etc). I shall share one tale of the imperial past with you now.
erhem
Long long ago, in a universe.............oops, wrong start
Once upon a time, in Africa, there lived a tribe called the Zulus. Now these Zulus were very warlike and fierce, killing a different bunch of forigen peasants every year, one could say the Zulus were almost christian in their outlook.
Any way, one zulu general lost the favour of the king (dunno why; too merciful?) and before the king could dispatch warriors to carry out a punishment, the general upped sticks and headed north (that IS how u yankees phrase it init?). He took with him all the warriors of his regiment, their wives; their kids and their cattle. They went far enough north to be invisible from the Zulu kings, and then they established their own kingdom. Now that involved killing lots of people that already lived there and thought (mistakenly) that they had some rights of ownership, but after a couple of years, all the tribes that were left alive agreed to acknowledge the new king. So because they used to be zulus they crowned their general as king in style, with lots of dancing virgins, roasting cows, and a huge hand carved wooden thone as the center piece of the ritual. The coronation lasted a week, and the grass huts of the Royal Kraal were full of people sleeping off their hangovers for a fortnight.
The first king reigned for a good few years and was followed by one of his grandsons, who was crowned using the same magnificent ceremonies.
But then
came the Brits
The king (call him Fred) quickly saw the equation of spears vs rifles, and decided, before the Brits actually reached his lands, to become a british protectorate, this was so Fred could remain king and continue to kill the surrounding tribes as before, but with rifles to help. ( this is called thinking ahead).
And thats what happened.
u want some dates an stuff mow, dont u?
Well , the Brits apeared on the scene around 1895, cos Fred got to go to London to see the Great White Empress, and also to collect some free passes to public school for some of his sons.
But life didnt really change for Fred and his people, the Brits stopped them making war every year, they made them walk on the left hand side of tracks, and they tried to make them play cricket, but that was about all.
The bad thing is, Fred lived a long long time. In fact, he died in 1967. And that's when the trouble started. The Brits had given up on the empire thing in the 1950's, so Fred's nation had been independant for some years, and he had left no clear successor when he died. The result was civil war. It raged for years, half the population died, the population was desperate for a solution, so they recalled Fred's great great great grandson from Oxford (he was doing a Physics doctorate) to become their new king.
Peace at last! Every one was over joyed and threw themselves into the coronation ceremonies. (Free beer gets ppl exicted u know.) They had to find some of the old people they had left to get the details of the ceremonies, but they did manage to get things ready in time.
The great day dawned, the virgins (imported) were dancing, the cows were roasting (microwaved) and they brought out the huge throne to make the new king official. But HORROR! When he sat on it, it had been eaten by termites so that it fell apart.
the moral of this story is.............
People that live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
(appypolylogies to Asimov)
DECUS ET TUTAMEN
Comment