I wanna tell you a story

The twins are getting excited as soon after school breaks up for the summer, we will be going on holiday. I cannot tell you exactly when as I fear HR will be forced to review annual leave records in an attempt to identify me. This year we are heading back to Devon and I am sure some of you are pleased to hear that we will pop in to see our adopted donkey at the wonderful Donkey Sanctuary.

Due to their excitement the kids are not falling asleep without a lengthy bedtime story. Last week, I tried to read them the localism bill but after 120 pages they sadly lost the plot – I fear they are not the only ones.  So yesterday I thought I would try to make up my own tale. Here it is:

Once upon a time, not many months ago lived a nasty man who spoke with a Yorkshire rasping voice punctuated with heavy briefing. This man rightly had few friends but had a band of acolytes that followed him around the country and helped him with his dirty deeds.  This man was called the Pie-d Pickler and he wrought damage on many communities.

One day the Pied Pickler and his followers arrived at the small principality of Eland. The people of Eland were a happy, helpful bunch who loved their families and looked out for each other - although on occasions they could be a little work shy. The Elanders had a good life and enjoyed good food – including wonderful famous 7-course breakfasts. The only problem in Eland was an infestation of rats. Some people suggested that the rat numbers had increased due food waste and fortnightly bin collections but the real reason was linked to the local private water companies investing little in clearing rat nests in sewers – after all why would they want to waste their precious profits on such a smelly problem – think of all the poo in the sewer!!

When the Pied Pickler arrived in Eland he demanded changes, but first he demanded a mixed grill for him and his followers (though NSW asked for a salad). The people of Eland provided food and ask for payment. The Pied Pickler held his big belly and laughed. He said he would not pay. The Mayor of Eland begged him to pay to say they needed the money to deal with the rats and deliver improvements to local public services. The Mayor said they could not live with the rats in their houses. The Pied Pickler promised he would deal with the problem and the Elanders would no longer have to share their homes with the rats. The Mayor thanked him and was happy.

The next day the Pied Pickler arrived in the main square and pulled out his magic pipe. He huffed and puffed and then played a tune that no one recognised nor enjoyed. The tune was horrid (it was even worse that when Daddy plays the Led Bib album that you both hate). The Pied Pickler kept playing and after 3 days the people of Eland could not take it anymore. They were forced to leave their homes and community. They simply were forced to become homeless.

After the exodus of forty thousand people of Eland, the Pied Pickler put down his pipe. A raven appeared and emitted a loud krak from atop the Tree of Celebration and the sky turned black. Forthwith the rats appeared. The number of rats was great and could not be counted by man (but  according to the word of wiki and The Sun the quantum was 81 million). The Pied Pickler told the rats that as the residents of Eland had disrespected his authority that the people had been banished from their homes and the rats could live for free and forever in Eland. The rats looked up to the corpulent flautist with tears in their ratty eyes and he said to them ‘This is my word and I am here to share the love’.

And no-one lived happily ever after.

                                    ....The End.....

After I finished this story the twins were asleep. Then next morning Mrs T told me that the twins had had nightmares and they told her they had developed allergy to my stories. Bright kids but I am sure they meant allegory.

[I know some of you will read my story and think I half-inched bits of the narrative and replicated the style from a more famous story about rats. I do concede this but justify it by saying I have always been a fan of The Plague by Albert Camus].