the jackdaws know (11/March/18)

the natives are restless, or the Jackdaws in this case… as well they might be…… creeping apprehension creeping like the ivy up the trunks to tickle their feet……
the Jackdaws know,
the Jackdaws see,
from way up high in their canopy,

they know more than they’re letting on… but why should they tell us, the ungrateful bunch we are… they know that when the levee breaks they’ll be fine way up there watching all going to hell in a handcart, seeing our egos get the better of us and convincing ourselves that maybe it’s not that bad after all… as long as we start 3-D printing that Ark asap we’ll be fine… won’t we?

I mean, hey, he’s no worse than any other despotic dictator, right?…

neither has it gone unnoticed among the canny Jackdaws, misappropriating  tweets that were the sole domain of the birds and twisting them into an anthropomorphic bun-fight of bile-ridden proportions… but the Jackdaws aren’t bitter… much…
but the Jackdaws know,
the Jackdaws see,
from way up high in their canopy,

just waiting for our self-annihilation to stop us chopping down their trees……

he’s feathering his own nest, you see that, right?….. it’s as plain as the beak on a Jackdaw’s face… every decision, choice, policy pushed through designed merely as a pension-plan for a certain Mr President… which sounds in itself as a title a bit comic-book… but who am I to judge, I’m not even a Jackdaw…
but the Jackdaws, they know,
they see,
from way up high in their canopy,

you know in the outside world his name has become a by-word for bile and shorthand for a certain kind of nasty… don’t be coy, you know who I mean, Mr comic-book President…… note: beware leaders with a track record of naming projects after themselves …
but the Jackdaws know,
the Jackdaws see,
from way up high in their canopy,

Red Bull doesn’t give you wings, just diabetes, tooth decay, headaches, irritability, constipation, attention deficit disorder and addiction issues… being a Jackdaw gives you wings…
as the Jackdaws know,
the Jackdaws see,
from way up high in their canopy.

© 2018 robert greig

a word from our sponsor (14/Jan/18)

dear Mr So-called Leader of the So-called Free World,

Phew! that’s a long title, maybe we can reduce that to a single syllable?… something like Flump perhaps… that’s catchy, ok we’ll go with that…

dear Mr Flump,

Please feel free to take it personally as it probably is… it is a personal sleight from old Blighty-land for which there is a swathe of concurrence against you personally so it’s fair to see it as personal… though not against the US…… oh no, no, no, to think that would be wilfully misunderstanding and ignorantly misinterpreting the situation… we have nothing against US citizens nor even US culture, except maybe for the plethora of adverts you litter your television with making it unwatchable……no, indeed this is personal, we don’t like you, although I use the word ‘we’ loosely…… on the loatheable scale you even out-Nixon Nixon, though I know you thrive upon being reviled which is a peculiar trait to boast and actually encourage but I suppose certain personality disorders predispose one to that end…

To be honest we have enough racist, bigoted, cruel, bully-boy, self-absorbed me-me-me-me-it’s all about me politicians here already and really we don’t really want to be babysitting yet another… and we are quite capable of opening a building without you (i.e. American Embassies)…… not to mention we have our very own puffed-up popinjay Mr Flump look-a-like here already and should you swan over here on your broken wings then the ruse may be busted that you’re in fact one and the same person!……

As for the potential impact on our (here comes another…) so-called “special relationship” I think as it was there before you came fallumping out of the swamp it will be there long after you’ve experienced a toxic meltdown in your own excess of bile… and anyway to call this hands across the ocean relationship ‘special’ is all a bit twilight zone but it makes us feel good about ourselves enabling the illusion and delusional pretence that Britain (or the UK, Great Britain or even Britannia, take your pick, everyone else does) still rules the waves, even if it’s only on a tiny pond filled with shopping trolleys in some suburban back garden somewhere, instead of the far less prosaic lapdogs licking others polluted shores of influence……

see recently you have had a few, arguably, successes?… is that right?… although most seem only for the benefit of big corporations, a world in which you yourself seem to have an abiding interest in more ways than one… also, full marks on recently having clearly taken at least a smidgen of advice from someone with half a brain cell to keep your family (largely) out of the spotlight, or at least on the very edge as they are indeed your Achilles heel, and being your other dodgy tendon is yourself then there’s a danger of not having a leg left to stand on……

… and honestly, enough with the petulant twittering…. I’m sure Twitter are laughing all the way to the bank but really, making policy in 140 characters at a time?… or 270 now…. damn! I shouldn’t have told you, I’ve just given you the excuse to abuse even more exclamation marks…… apparently, so I’ve been told, you’re all grown-up now, wow!… I remember when you were knee-high to a dollar bill, we all had such high hopes… ‘ shame.

with as much regard as I can muster as sincerely as I can be in the circumstances,
me~

ps…… dear Mr Flump, stop turning our rare natural landscapes here into yet another golf course… thank you.

© 2018 robert greig