I have undertaken a social survey and fully intend to astound you with the results. But first, I thought I better set out my stall with regard to the current unpleasantness. You might have noticed, but here in the UK we’re going to have a general election. This has several immediate results. The first is that social media is full of memes, faked photos, wild claims and downright lies. Personally I suspect the Russians have pulled out, being unwilling to sink to the level our political party black-ops teams have achieved entirely on their own initiative. Not only that, but the discussions will inevitably get more and more acrimonious as we get nearer to the big day. If somebody came up with a way of ‘fast forwarding’ life so we could get to the 12th December without having to suffer from this deluge, they’d probably make a fortune. Especially if they could also come up with a way to ‘pause’ and ‘replay’ some of the more interesting things we’ve done in the past to help fill in the gap.
Now initially I had wondered whether the election campaigning would at least have had the effect of driving the endless posts about ‘only x more days to Christmas’ off social media. Then I found myself hoping that the Christmas posts might just be able to swamp all the general election nonsense.
So I came up with a cunning plan. I just about managed it during the 2017 election. I’m going to do my bit to keep my facebook page an oasis of gentle humour and tranquillity. Obviously I reserve the right to mock unmercifully any of the more bizarre flights of political fancy. After all, I’m the one who writes fantasy fiction. If they start venturing into my genre I reserve the right to subject them to incisive literary criticism.
But in the interests of good taste, I trust the political pygmies jostling for the lucrative positions in parliament (in crude terms a MP earns four times as much as the median family income in this town. I trust they will explain to us why they think they’re worth it) will remember their manners and will instruct the sundry deniable and expendable minions they use to mount social media campaigns to restrict themselves to posting positive information about their own campaign. After all, if all they can post is knocking copy, they cannot have much positive to tell us about their aspirations.
Still I have some important information to impart. I have undertaken social survey of great depth and I feel the results have the most remarkable implications!
In the past, when walking through the lanes, often following livestock, I’ve made a habit of picking up crisp packets and similar, for proper disposal. As a result of this process I came to the conclusion that the favoured flavour of crisp was salt and vinegar.
Academic rigour insists that I state that the favoured variety for throwing out of the car window when you’d finished eating them was salt and vinegar. It may well be that, for example, more people purchase cheese and onion, but cherish the packets and only discard salt and vinegar.
But still, if I were to stock only one flavour of crisp in my notional emporium, it would be salt and vinegar flavour.
But now, recent researches have shown a major change in crisp buying. The last lot I found and have suitable recycled as energy were’ Lentil Curls, sour cream & onion’ and “Sunbites grainwaves. Sour cream & cracked black pepper.”
It is obvious that amongst litter louts, sour cream has displaced salt and vinegar as the snack of choice for the discerning oaf. Not only that but it is obvious that our sub-sentient discarders of food packaging are becoming more discerning. Either that or our area has been hit by a wave of aspiring middle class pseudo-vegetarian crisp eaters?
Note well the fact that the potato has been cast into the abyss, replaced by grain and lentils. Have we a new generation of hipster snackers? Are we looking at the arrival on the scene of a more woke generation of people who discard their litter in the countryside?
Let us be fair here, there are people who have been awarded doctorates for theories advanced with less evidence. At the very least I should be allowed to mention my books on the strength of it.
Guaranteed to contain no general election coverage
In his own well chosen words, Tallis Steelyard reveals to us the life of Maljie, a lady of his acquaintance. In no particular order we hear about her bathing with clog dancers, her time as a usurer, pirate, and the difficulties encountered when one tries to sell on a kidnapped orchestra. We enter a world of fish, pet pigs, steam launches, theological disputation, and the use of water under pressure to dispose of foul smelling birds. Oh yes, and we learn how the donkey ended up on the roof.