The Plebs are in the news again. They’ve raised their heads
from the ditches, covered in the grime of reality. Someone summoned them by
accident and now they’re appearing in print. They’re sitting there, uninvited,
among the columns about crises, economies and big tits. Headlines touch them
gingerly afraid of what they’ll catch. But
there they will remain, for a few days at least.
They accidentally stumbled in to the news after Government
Chief Whip Andrew Mitchell got angry with some policemen. Mr. Mitchell had
spent the whole day arguing and hadn’t realised he was meant to stop. The
policemen were in the way of his rage. They were innocent bystanders, victims
of friendly fire. The word “pleb” was blurted out and it ruined everyone’s day.
Mr. Mitchell has been evasive about the language he used at
the gate of Downing Street. He’s issued apologies for words he claims he didn’t say. He may even
apologise for words he claims he won’t say in the future. If he has a brain he would
just issue a general apology that will suffice for any situation. That way he
will be covered no matter what and can happily carry on insulting anyone in
public. It could be a super-apology, like a super-injunction. Perhaps the Government could embark on a
policy of pre-emptive apologising thereby covering their arses when the economy
and society finally implodes.
But perhaps Mr. Mitchell didn’t mean “pleb” in the way us
plebs think it’s meant to mean. Pleb doesn’t feel like a real word like “badger”
or “entourage” or “fallopian”. It’s a short, curt, almost comical sound. Indeed you could describe it as a squashed
burp. The kind of burp a small reptile would make. The utterance of this
quasi-word is curious given Mr. Mitchell’s background and perhaps explains his evasiveness.
Andrew Mitchell has enjoyed fly-fishing in the past. He
could be described as a keen fly-fisher. It’s not fly-fishing in the
conventional sense in that this type doesn’t involve fish. Or rods. It just
involves flies and Mr. Mitchell’s tongue. For, you see, Mr. Mitchell could be
described as a consumer of flies, and other small insects. What’s also interesting
is that Mr. Mitchell has referred to the word “scale” more than any other
Westminster politician in the history of parliamentary debate. But above all is
Mr. Mitchell’s association with Lazard – or Lizard – the large and mysterious financial
organisation. Mr. Mitchell held a non-executive directorship of the Lizard
company. Nobody knows what the Lizard company does or, indeed, what Mr.
Mitchell did for them. But what is clear is he regularly wore a crown whenever
he was in the Lizard offices. In many ways Mr. Mitchell could be described as a
king. He was a king in the Lizard company – or King of the Lizards. This makes
sense because he looks a bit like a small lizard with a silver crown on his
head.
So it’s crystal clear now. Mr. Mitchell, the King of the
Lizards, was letting out small belches in front of some police officers. He was
angry with them, but not because they wouldn’t let him through – it’s because
he hates all mammals. He was merely expressing millions of years of contempt
for warm-blooded creatures through a series of unintelligible burbs.
However the most important question remains: why was Mr. Mitchell cycling a bike with a wicker basket?
