Being Made To Endure, Public Wrath In A Sewer

Many of you might recall that wonderful song from the Gilbert and Sullivan opera, the Mikado, the chorus of which goes as follows:

"My object all sublime

I shall achieve in time

To let the punishment fit the crime

The punishment fit the crime;

And make each prisoner pent

Unwillingly represent

A source of innocent merriment

Of innocent merriment"

The verses give delightful examples of how this system of retributive justice would work. For example:

"All prosy dull society sinners,

Who chatter and bleat and bore,

Are sent to hear sermons

From mystical Germans

Who preach from ten till four.

The amateur tenor, whose vocal villainies

All desire to shirk,

Shall during off-hours,

Exhibit his powers

To Madame Tussaud's waxwork"

I am not sure whether people from outside the United Kingdom appreciate the political storm which is sweeping through this country at the moment. We are seeing media moguls fall, once-powerful editors being arrested and leading public figures resign with astonishing rapidity. Each morning, most people in this country turn on their radio or television, not to check the weather or the traffic jams, but to see who has fallen overnight. With this in mind, I have decided to write a new verse to the Mikado's song. It goes as follows:

"The newspaper owners and editors too,

Who have hacked off the public for years

Are made to endure,

Public wrath in a sewer,

Whilst hanging from the roof by their ears.

The slimy politicians who cower and beg,

At their feet to get a good press,

All have to stand,

With cap in hand,

Whilst their sins they have to confess"

All together now .... "My object all sublime, I shall achieve in time, to let the punishment fit the crime, the punishment fit the crime ......."

UPDATE

One of the best things about blogging is that it becomes an interactive experience, where the blog-post is merely the opening statement in what, with luck, becomes a fascinating conversation. There can be few better examples of this than my post for Sepia Saturday about my Uncle Wilf at the seaside. Within hours of the post going up, the image had been examined, investigated and interpreted by people from throughout the world. I had been told that Wilf was a part-time bookmaker, that Frank Randle was possibly appearing at the concert on the pier in the background, that Amy's skirt was probably post-war, and that - based upon the number of studs on the wheel of the truck - it was definitely pre-1960. Thanks to everyone for joining in and for making this form of collective analysis so thoroughly enjoyable,