Politics at work
Deep in the dark recesses of the catacombs beneath Improbable Central, shadowy figures warily wend their wicked ways West-ward. Gas-lamps flicker and lend atmosphere to the shadowy endeavours.
Actually, I tell a lie.. . they're not really catacombs, per se.. . More like the cellars under the PSK. And when I say 'shadowy figures' it's Mrs Hollins, the Mayor; Scabby Newton (the merchant who had escaped from SquatHole); Dan and Whisplaw, the town clerk.
There are a couple of gaslights down here, mind you.
The four of them finally sit down at a table that Dan has constructed, and Whisplaw (an ill-favoured gentleman, all bony and bald-pated) rolls out a certain something, a piece of parchment with some dastardly words imprinted upon it. The Petition.
Whisplaw addresses the rest of the council, 'You know why we're here, and I'll not spend time and effort expounding on our plot; But the clan, GERM, has been -shall we say- making a bit of a name for themselves. Poor Dan here.. .' Whisplaw makes a motion towards the patron of the Prancing Spiderkitty, 'Poor Dan has been made a mockery of, a mockery. He, like I, won't stand for it.
We wish to propose a motion, to uphold the terms of this petition, but also to go slightly further.. .'
Scabby Newton interjects, 'That's known as Restriction of Trade, that is, son. You'll never get away with it, the merchants of Improbable Central, whom I am whadyemecallit, rep' like the boss of, like wouldn't stand for it. You may not like 'em, but Bernard and is lot saw off Koga from NewHome, and no mistake and they do pump a lot of req into Impro.. .'
Scabby is immediately talked down, the Mayor, Mrs Hollins, a beautifully coiffed lady of a certain age and deportment decides to have her tuppenorth as well, 'No, no, no, Scabby my little dahlin' (Obviously her speech doesn't quite match her dress, and, upon closer inspection, neither do the tattooed knuckles.. . Some say she's not as high class as she likes to make out and, if one were to investigate her hand-bag; which of course one wouldn't.. . - the brass knuckles, can of pepper spray and the pork scratching packet would give the game away further.) 'We let em geddaway wid' 'dis, then other clans are just gonna think they can piss all o'errus. I'm fo stickin' the boot into them fuckers.'Â
Her pronouncement is met with enthusiastic nodding from Dan, and also the clerk, Scabby isn't so sure, 'Look, love, those buggers almost kept us afloat during the initial onslaught, surely it's a bit, well, off to come down all heavy, like, on 'em?!“
Dan chooses this moment to offer his thoughts, “They've been lying and cheating and stealing from me.. .”
And THAT, dear readers seems to be enough, killers, yes, goat-rapists, perhaps, zombies munching on the brains of PE teachers, fine.. . But thieves and layabouts? Well, IC ain't gonna stand for that.. .
'All right' says Scabby, 'Now that's not on, that.'
And with that, further plots, further machinations and further dark designs were plotted, machined and designed. What a group of hairy bollo.. .