What cometh around, goeth around, as my old grandmother (God rest her weary soul) was often wont to say. And by way of proof here we are, only 350 years or so down the line and I find myself turning in my grave as what wenteth around all those years ago, cometh around yet again.
I refereth of course to the sorry state of our lower house, (the sorry state of our upper house being outwith the scope of today's musings) and to the venal slaves who make their sordid livelihoods within it's once hallow'd walls.
As my old Grandmother was also wont to oft repeat - the moat owner may be deserving of his moat, but is the feu-man who payeth for the cost of it's upkeep deserving of the moat owner? I think not.
Although I said it before (on
"It is high time to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonoured by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice; ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government; ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of potage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money; is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you?
Is there one vice you do not possess? Ye have no more religion than my horse; gold is your God; which of you have not barter’d your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the commonwealth? Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defil’d this sacred place, and turn’d the Lord’s Temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices?
Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation; you were deputed here by the people to get grievances redress’d, and yourselves became the greatest grievance. Your country therefore calls upon me to cleanse this Augean stable, by putting a final period to your iniquitous proceedings in this House; and which by God’s help, and the strength he has given me, I am now come to do; I command ye therefore, upon the peril of your lives; to depart immediately out of this place; go, get you out! Make haste! Ye venal slaves be gone! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors.
In the name of God, go!"
It seems as appropriate now as it was when I was a young, carefree (though I freely confess, not so mellow) fellow, and Lord Protector of the
Yeah, verily I turneth in mine grave.
