I have to advise all people who have applied for this post that the vacancy has now been filled, by me. I intend to assume this onerous role sometime next Sunday afternoon, just after everyone's read an article in the paper detailing the bitterness and division in Drumsleet caused by my Blog article entitled 'Chapter Six' . Of course there is no bitterness and division at the moment, few people knowing or caring about 'Chapter Six' , but doubtless there will be after this. Such is the power of the press and the opportunism of some hack who has, admittedly, performed a task I had hitherto considered impossible, managing to make money out of my writing.
I would like everyone to know before they sharpen their staves that Chapter Six was a satirical rant and not factual social comment and that, like any other person who has lived and worked almost their entire life in Drumsleet, I know that the town has many strengths and many weaknesses.
My first task as the Most Hated Man in Drumsleet will be, of course, to appoint from among the many dole-hounds of my acquaintance men of sufficient physical strength and agility to repel the physical attacks planned for my person by a Special Hit Squad recently formed by the Provost and local Tourist Board. I understand from some of my sources that these agents have been trained at a camp deep within Ae Forest and may already be in place in the community armed to the teeth.
My second task will be to run for it. Perhaps, like the poet Publius Ovidius Naso, I shall go into exile in Constanta in Romania, where I will pine my life away dreaming of the poundshops of home. I have fond memories of Constanta, having been chased round several soviet era apartment blocks by a hunchback in 1992.
I would like everyone to know before they sharpen their staves that Chapter Six was a satirical rant and not factual social comment and that, like any other person who has lived and worked almost their entire life in Drumsleet, I know that the town has many strengths and many weaknesses.
My first task as the Most Hated Man in Drumsleet will be, of course, to appoint from among the many dole-hounds of my acquaintance men of sufficient physical strength and agility to repel the physical attacks planned for my person by a Special Hit Squad recently formed by the Provost and local Tourist Board. I understand from some of my sources that these agents have been trained at a camp deep within Ae Forest and may already be in place in the community armed to the teeth.
My second task will be to run for it. Perhaps, like the poet Publius Ovidius Naso, I shall go into exile in Constanta in Romania, where I will pine my life away dreaming of the poundshops of home. I have fond memories of Constanta, having been chased round several soviet era apartment blocks by a hunchback in 1992.
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