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Monday, January 03, 2011

The Ancient Tales of Hansard

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Ah, yes, those were the golden days of all our pork scratchings, we ran through those green fields as though there would be no week next Thursday, and we would live lives free of asparagus and strangely-coloured drinks that tasted of Airfix glue and had small umbrellas incongruously placed in them for little or no apparent reason.

They were the long endless days of summer and how we laughed at the mendacious politicians and their bare-faced witterings as though we knew we would grow up into a world where their like would never be known of again, except as stories from The Ancient Tales of Hansard, told to frighten the children into behaving.

Little did we know, or even dare to stroke our pondering chins, that there were still politicians ready to still be born, that there were people even younger than us who would not scorn too the inanities of the religions. It seemed so hard to believe that somehow such stupidities would, could, continue, especially in these days of the corned beef and sweet pickle sandwich. Such mindsets see to need to belong to the dark days of the past, a time before the wonders of speciality ales and fine small breweries, a time before knickers became optional in the centrally-heated wonders of this technological age. This should be an age that should entail the necessities of science and reason over such inane tribalistic ideologies that can only belong to darker unreasoning ages of the distant past.

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