Tuesday, 23 November 2010
The Trolls of Rotland v Laura Norder
Picture courtesy of Wikipedia – many thanks
Trolls of Rotland.v Laura Norder
Once upon a time, deep in a rural rut
warped by time, there were few trains, no buses,
public amenities withered and died.
A small rural town teetered on the brink.
The trolls who governed, this rural outpost,
made sure they had things sewn up to suit themselves.
“Stuff the poor, sod the peasants, we’ll get rich
on the backs of the apathetic voters.
We’ll sew up the local press, get the police
isolated from reality AND
Persecute anyone who tells our story.
We’ll divorce ourselves from political
Reality, ensure we have truly biased
Supremacy, ask for the highest rates
Make sure all contracts go to our brethren.”
So the trolls banded together against
the forces of fairness and Laura Norder.
They got a great big cloth and began sewing,
Finally they had it all stitched up.
Ricardo Blanco was given a job.
Poor little Ricardo tried to do his best
But in every school test he was behind
the rest. The trolls were very impressed.
A man without a brain, was what they needed.
Ricardo was paid thirty thousand pounds
It became clear he really hadn’t a brain,
Not even a single cell organism
could be found on any scan, nor even a
scintilla of moral probity
could be detected in the recesses
of his cranial cavity but the man
had oodles of loyalty, unquestioning
Fealty to troll like supremacy.
The Town Council were deeply satisfied
Mr Peek a Boo held the legal keys
And could be relied on to bend the law.
It all became so bent that anything
which had the crookedest bend could be said
to be straight. All the trolls got together
And nodded in unison their chorus
Melodically sung throughout the rural rot:
“We are Lions, we are circles, we are
on the Square, and squaddies once, shoulder to
Shoulder do our best to squish opponents.
Over ethanol we meet in the bar,
Determined to mar, we’ll feather and tar
Critics who gainsay us. Better by far to
join us,” they coo, “gangs of miscreants do.
We’ll pay obeisance on Remembrance Day
And subvert the cause for which these heroes
gave away their lives for democracy.
We’ll harry and hound right into the ground
Anyone who reveals our sins
For Laura Norder we don’t give two pins.
No Sunday buses, no morning trains,
We get in our cars, humanity drains
as we drive through the lanes, we take no blame
Hypocrisy is our middle name
We really have no sense of shame.”
The trolls were so used to getting away
with all their shenanigans. They’d clearly
got blue rosettes and joined the nasty party.
They ran their little cold club ruthlessly;
no one else would ever get voted into
Power. ‘We are invincible,’ they chortled.
“Anyone who opposes us is an
idiot – idealism won’t be
tolerated. They’re just idiot boys.”
Until an idiot boy with a camera
started taking pictures of the trolls,.
Ethanol in hand in front of the bandstand.
“Stop that idiot boy,” they begged Mr Peek a Boo.
Holding the legal keys in his right hand
And a mouse in his left hand Peek a Boo
Wrote to Flick’r and got his account closed.
Satisfied and rather smug the trolls
Claimed justice had been done, but to
add to the spice of life and have some fun
they developed an obsession with mouses.
on the internet the louses dosed with
Ethanolic souses pursued their quarry
Round the houses. So the idiot boy
took photos morning, noon and night – always.
Pictures of trolls parking illegally,
Legless with bottles their troll like tottles
along the road in ‘designated’ places,
were published on the boy’s blogging website
The idiot boy got himself voted
onto the Council. Something just had to
be done. So Mrs Joyless Curse and Mr
Jimbo Harass, son of a Commando,
Paulo Bitchio, or so Bitchio
claimed as he waddled with medals on his
ever so wide breasts, the result of
imbibing too much sauce with his bisto;
Mr Carlo Haugh Waugh, lardyboy and
Mr Alfredo photoshop Al’ DO EE
Ran a war of attrition – “He’s gay” they
shouted. “I’m out and proud” said the boy.
Then they started a vicious rumour knowing
it to be untrue, they deliberately blew
a nasty whisper far and wide, they failed
to get the rumour to gain currency
Which they wouldn’t deny at all when I
questioned them in their den, so in civil
Law they’d opened the door to a guilty
judgement on their rumour mongering intent.
In a bit of a fix the tortured trolls
Decided to recruit top cat onto
the Council. “We need some good publicity,”
They bleated lamely: “You’re our media star.
Get the papers to be our char, publish
only the best.” Well top cat hadn’t pickled
his brains in alcohol and was happy
to oblige. He polished up their image
so carefully they made him the Tzar.
of the council’s woolly thinking brigade.
The trolls wrote dozens of emails and postings.
When the idiot boy accused them of
doing so, Ricardo Blanco denied it
Mr Peek a Boo ensured it was never
investigated. Instead they oilily
wheeled out The Data Protection Act.
Never mind that the postings were made
at nine o’clock at night from the council’s
own chamber. The police refused to take
any action. The trolls began to muddy
the water and bake a fake cake which smelled
of hake. “Smoke and mirrors man, we’ll make
a false claim – someone’s stolen our laptop.
It wasn’t me, I didn’t make the posting
I wasn’t in the Council at twelve noon
Nor in Leicester later. The boy’s a loon
It’s us against him. We’ll make out he’s dim.
We’ve all got cast iron alibis, test us.”
So once again they raised their glasses
Pickled their brains and went back to their mouses.
There ain’t no justice until we vote out
all these louses. Trolls screamed: “Stop your grouses.
We’ve sewn up all the election polls.”
Can anyone defeat, or even eat, the trolls?
Look forward to another instalment
Of the shenanigans of the drollest trolls.
Some odd retail voting on Tocess proposed planning permission.
But that’s another story…