Bard Billot on Labour's blundering bagman
The Quest of David
So it was that Duke Dave of the House of Parker set out from Queens Landing to seek the Holy Grail of Revenue. He was surrounded by a ceremonial guard of 900 communications staffers and perception management consultants. They wandered up from the gentle meadows to the rugged foothills; then made slow going from the foothills into the narrow crevasses; and the crevasses grew cobwebbed and murky and conversation dried up. "Lo, I have been reading the French philosopher Thomas of Piketty," pondered the Duke. "Mmhmm," said the Chief Illusionist as he scribbled his invoice out on a 20-foot papyrus scroll. The Duke pulled his Magic Sword from its bejewelled scabbard. "I think it is high time to rationalise booty tax on moneylenders usury to fund our Quest," the Duke mused to his attentive troops. "Mmhmm," said the Assistant Sub Illusionist as he perused a fine vintage Tik Tok. Then it was they came upon the sunlit uplands; and a great empty field lay before them bathed in the afternoon light. On the far side was a small cairn of rocks; and on the top was a Golden Crown that beckoned most winsomely. "Lo, I have come across the Grail!" saith the Duke as he hurried forwards. Yet a new formation was forming behind him, as the 900-strong ceremonial guard of Public Relations Ninjas and Gold-shod Consultants started to shuffle nervously backwards. "Forward to Glory!" shouted the oblivious Duke. Lo, and on the opposite heights a mighty battalion from the House of Blue stood around whistling, with burning torches and a battery of high-powered cannons. With great cheer they lit the fuses; and there was a mighty thunder. Then a host of Creatures of the Night swarmed across the field and the Duke momentarily disappeared under the warty fund managers, the gruesome pundits and the foul and unspeakable Tribe of Boomers. When the thunder and swarming was finished the stunned Duke stood covered in soot upon the blackened field, with his underdrawers sitting on the top of his head. "What happened, O perception managers?" he croaked. And a young perception managing intern was given the grievous task of delivering the memo, and skipping lightly cross the field, handeth Duke Dave an envelope with the Royal Seal. In the delicate hand of The Red Queen, the enclosed note readeth: "The Quest for the Holy Grail is hereby cancelled."
Victor Billot has previously felt moved to compose Odes for such luminaries as Counterspin, Sam Uffindell, Bishop Brian, the Prime Minister, Mike Hosking, and Garrick Tremain.
