This post is just a little touch of silliness, really, perhaps to indicate that there’s nothing new under the sun in the power game.
Somewhere in distant England, in times gone by
To the People of Anglia, Scotia, Gwalia and the neighbouring Green Island … and all lands far and wide who hold us fondly in their hearts
THE LOST LEADER
Dear Friends, I bring tidings which will tear each heart from its breast.
Today the Great Chief joined his ancestors in the haze of history.
I only hear this dreaded news; I was not there.
But when the owl flew from the north in full daylight emitting its message before, the omen was clear. And tonight the rains descend o’er our spring fields bringing gloom and despair.
It is right that you, his people, know what I have need to believe to be true.
His last words as he slipped from earth’s grasp were simple.
“Good luck.”
No passing of the sword to others. He gave no sign on succession, though he knew his time was near its end. That decision he has left to us; those of us with the power. It is right that we remember – the task of great leadership is wearisome and charged to but a brave few.
He uttered too, “I give my thanks to you the people for the times I have succeeded and my apologies for the times when I have fallen short.”
I only hear; I was not there.
And our enemies … they hear these tidings. What of them? They take great comfort from our loss. They laugh; they sneer; they joust for position as they see that we are greatly weakened. That I expect and understand.
Never was there such a formidable foe. Now he is no more. When swords crossed, only his would be stained with blood. For the enemy such a victory would aye evade their flimsy weaponry.
It is at the hands of his own that he has been reduced.
I only hear; I was not there. 
And still the enemy with whom we share this green and ancient land – ye gads, they cannot find it in their soul-less beings to recognise how we and they have accrued great wealth and boundless benefit from The Great One’s rule. We heard them at the noon hour this very day, did we not? We hear their bellowing now. They whoop and yell from yon high hillock, shrill voices bouncing off each empty head – “The king is dead and all men are free!”, say they.
What fools are these.
Freedom does not come with the passing of one man, but by the efforts and continual watch of all.
[mutinous groans and murmurs sound forth from the common people]
My friends, dear friends, be calm. Do not call for the blood of their kin; ‘t was never his desire to punish innocence. Remember – where blame fits true, blame will accrue.
And if you have heard mutterings of confession from the dying lips of He Who Will Be Missed – banish such thoughts from your minds. He confessed nothing as he breathed his last. Believe not such treachery. He needed not to seek forgiveness from God or man for the evils of others; for the barbaric, warring clans who annihilate our protectors and devour even their own offspring. The Great One’s mind was clear to the end in freedom’s cause.
I only hear; I was not there.
But there is something he wanted you to know. Our friends in the northern climes, present at his demise say he asked for understanding; for compassion from you and from me. From his convictions he acted. Not from warlike hunger. Not from messianic zeal, though his faith was deep and true.
You know that he loved you.
And follows now the reckoning. I know there has been much ado adoing, and the doers in time shall be undone. Many of our folk still jostle for power. They – mayhap ye – seek different treasures, have other ambitions, pursue personal fulfillments. Petty jealousies fester in such a climate.
But it is clear that none of us gathered here have lain our leader low. It was not a sudden ending, but slow and for that more painful. When he who administered the fatal thrust is known, he should use well his internal organs whilst he yet has ’em.
Rumours of the hand of the northern clan chief and his minions are but rumours. Require proof irrefutable before you 
condemn, my dear friends.
I only hear, I was not there.
But our hero has been taken before his time and we must avenge this wrong.
Are we bovvered?
Ever so blooming slightly.
But we have been blessed. We live in the greatest nation on earth.
And the morals of the tale:
It may be unwise to believe all you hear
(Common sense; sadly uncommon)
All generalisations are dangerous, even this one
(Attributed to Alexandre Dumas or ‘anon’)
Please feel free to add your own below in the comment box
© May 2007 BlairSupporter
Tony Blair 
April 17, 2008 at 3:55 pm |
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