Directory of Lost Causes (By Quentin S. Crisp)

Blair After the Hutton Inquiry

Well, I've had so little time recently, and have been so hindered in other ways, that I'm afraid my blog output for January is rather thin. Of course, I think there are hours of enjoyment to be had in the Cock films, but there is little input from myself. However, as I was going through my files, I discovered a little thing I'd done, just messing around really, but in a spirit of playful rage, after the whole Hutton Inquiry here in the UK after the government were accused of 'sexing up' the dossier on weapons of mass destruction in Iraq and Dr Kelly, caught in the middle of all this, "committed suicide".



The piece, which I have given the title 'Blair After the Hutton Inquiry', is really Burroughs' skit, 'Roosevelt After Inauguration' with a few words changed here and there. In fact, I don't think I have changed quite enough to transplant the skit successfully from American to British soil. Anyway, rather than let it languish in my files, and also becuase people too easily forget 'old news', I thought I'd post it here:



Blair After the Hutton Inquiry

Immediately after the Inquiry Blair appeared on the steps of Number Ten Downing Street dressed in the purple robes of a Roman Emperor and, leading a blind toothless lion on a gold chain, hog-called his constituents to come and get their appointments. The constituents rushed up grunting and squealing like the hogs they were.

Men who had gone grey and toothless in the faithful service of their country were summarily dismissed in the grossest terms - like "You're fired you old fuck. Get your piles outa here." - and in many cases thrown bodily out of their offices. Hoodlums and riffraf of the vilest calibre filled the highest offices of the land.

When the Supreme Court overruled some of the legislation perpetrated by this vile rout, Blair forced that august body, one after the other, on threat of immediate reduction to the rank of Parliamentary Lavatory Attendants, to submit to intercourse with a purple-assed baboon; so that venerable, honored men surrendered themselves to the embraces of a lecherous snarling simian, while Alastair Campbell, Blair and his strumpet wife, and the veteran brown-nose Lord Hutton, smoking a communal hookah of hashish, watched the lamentable sight with cackles of obscene laughter. Judge Blackstrap succumbed to a rectal hemorrhage on the spot, but Blair only laughed and said coarsely, "Plenty more where that came from."

Hutton, unable to control himself, rolled on the floor in sycophantic convulsions, saying over and over "You're killin' me, Chief. You're killin' me."

Judge Hockactonsvol has both ears bitten off by the simian, and when Chief Judge Howard P. Herringbone asked to be excused, pleading his piles, Blair told him brutally, "Best thing for piles is a baboon's prick up the ass. Right Hutton?"

"Right Chief. I use no other. You heard what the man said. Drop your moth-eaten ass over that chair and show the visiting simian some Southern hospitality."

Blair then appointed the baboon to replace Judge Blackstrap, "diseased."

"I'll have to remember that one boss," said Campbell, breaking into loud guffaws.

So henceforth the proceedings of the Court were carried on with a screeching simian shitting and pissing and masturbating on the table and not infrequently leaping on one of the Judges and tearing him to shreds.

"He is entering a vote of dissent," Blair would say with an evil chuckle. The vacancies so created were invariably filled by simians, so that, in the course of time, the Supreme Court came to consist of nine purple-assed baboons; and Blair, claiming to be the only one able to interpret their decisions, thus gained control of the highest tribunal in the land.

He then set himself to throw off the restraints imposed by Parliament and the House of Lords. He loosed innumerable crabs and other vermin in both houses. He had a corps of trained idiots who would rush in at a given signal and shit on the floor, and hecklers equipped with a brass band and fire hoses. He instituted continuous repairs. An army of workman trooped through the Houses, slapping the legislators in the face with boards, spilling hot tar down their necks, dropping tools on their feet, undermining them with air hammers; and finally he caused a steam shovel to be set up on the floors, so that the recalcitrant legislators were either buried alive or drowned when the Houses flooded from the broken water mains. The survivors attempted to carry on in the street, but were arrested for loitering and were sent to the workhouse like common bums. After release they were barred from office on the grounds of their police records.

Then Blair gave himself over to such vile and unrestrained conduct as is shameful to speak of. He instituted a series of contests designed to promulgate the lowest acts and instincts of which the human species is capable. There was a Most Unsavory Act Contest, a Cheapest Trick Contest, Molest a Child Week, Turn In Your Best Friend Week - professional stool pigeons disqualified - and the coveted title of All-Around Vilest Man of the Year. Sample entries: The junky who stole an opium suppository out of his grandmother's ass; the ship captain who put on women's clothes and rushed into the first lifeboat; the vice-squad cop who framed people, planting an artificial prick in their fly.

Blair was convulsed with such hate for the species as it is, that he wished to degrade it beyond recognition. He could endure only the extremes of human behavior. The average, the middle-aged (he viewed middle age as a condition with no relation to chronological age), the middle-class, the bureaucrat filled him with loathing. One of his first acts was to burn every record in London; thousands of bureaucrats threw themselves into the flames.

"I'll make the cocksuckers glad to mutate," he would say, looking off into space as if seeking new frontiers of depravity.