I Shiwanta Wattro

Ah, my ſubjects! It is with grave aprehenſioun & diſguſt that I write to-daye of theſe unworthye, baſtard ſonnes of ye Romans. Perhaps no-one has had ſuche Arrogaunce, ſuch fooliſhe Pompouſneſs, and yet come out unſcath'd, nay, hightened, from their Rodomontades.

Ye Spaniards delude themſelues by thinkinge they are ye ſame -- ſay no blaſphemye, and rouſe thyſelves, noble Spaniards, above thoſe rat-faced mongrel proxenetes! Their vaunted firſt Athenaeum of ye Worlde is but a Backwater, their Patrimonye, ſo abundant, rottes awaye beneath ye Acid Rayne!

Even nowe, theyre Cheſtes are not only emptye, but twice emptye, withe a deficit of ittes owne value. Theire Heades are empty as welle, as are their Muſeums, their ſhoppes, and their Morales.

Ah! Perfidious Countrye, thou haſt marked mee far too manye a time, when my Shoos have tread'd thy filthye Streetes, with thy humid, drearye ſkyline, and that moſt-ludicrous and thy mouldy, undefendable Barrel, ye Caſtel Sant'Angelo.

Thy Lungotevere crumbleth -- ſee to its repair.

Thy patrimony returnes to ye Earth from which it came -- reſtore itte.

Thy people are ſtupid -- ſee to their educatioun.

Never have I ſeen ſo wretched a land, ſo oppreſsed a people, ſuch haughty ignoraunce. If only Parliament would give mee fundes to raiſe an armye! No, that ſhall not come, and we ſhall remain infected evermore.

Ye "Lord Protectour"

Ah, how longe hath it beene ſince YE KYNGE hath poſted here? Tyme matteres notte, for We are long dead, and therefore do as We pleaſe.

To-day, We ſhall make a Vindication for true ſinceritye & humilitye, & combat arrogaunce & fooliſhneſs, both in our ſubject & abroade.

Indeede, it ſeemeth as if ſome of Our ſubjects, not content with being borne vpõ this Sceptred Iſle, decide to make righte fooles out of themſelves by behaving in an arrogaunt, ridiculous faſhioun. YE KYNGE cannot ceaſe to remynde his Gentle Readers that he diſapproveth these attitudes moſt forcefullye, and condemneth it, as he hath done in a previous poſte.

NEVERTHELESS, We were much diſtraut by obſerving that, within ye other natiõs, many were foole enough to playe this foule game, accepting certain criticks in order to validate certain others, moſt-particullarlye againſt ye French. Which Ye Kynge conſideres ridiculous.

What honour is there, indeede, in bragginge or boaſtinge, in ye manner of a footpadde? Ye Kynge is to ſay ye leaſte, baffled.

Some very-fooliſh ſubjects of ourſe, in particullar Mr. Shakeſpeare & Mr. Siluer, had alreadye begunne this woeſome trend, which would be carryed oute, after my paſsing bye, by certain revolting leſe-majetees ſuch as Mr. Pitt.

And it it waſe Mr. Pitt who didde it, whoſe faulte is itte? Cromwelle's, of courſe.

Ye Kynge is diſtreſsed.

Indeed, it ſeemeth as if his deſcent in future tymes hath taken to worſhip (of all thynges!) ſcyence, which is little bettere than magick, and neither explaineth nor expreſseth nothing of worthe.

Therefore, (&, as anye good Kynge woulde do!) We have reſolved to take ye neceſsarye meaſures in order to ſave our future ſubjects (whom We love as dearly as our preſent ſubjects) from becoming clodhopperes due to ye perils of ye future worlde, viz., biologye, Harry Pottere, Cromwell, and other ſuch diſtreſsing names.

For that purpouſe, as you may ſee in ye engravinge, I have raiſed an armye of ferocious Pudel Dogges, who ſhall lay waſte to ye country.

Ah, ye burden of ye Crowne!

Brigadiere Gerard

Ye kynge is moſt amuſed.

Indeede, amuſed that they ſhall finally be makynge a movinge picturre of ye novels of Brigadiere Gerard.

For thoſe who have not reade them, they are ſhorte ſtoryes, moſt droll, written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, aboute a Huſsar in Napoleon's armye, in a period ſomewhate later than myne.

Nevertheleſs, as may bee ſeene a few poſtes downardes, this doth not reaſsure mee for I feare a reſurgence of ye Frenche-baſshinge.

Will it be ſo? Ye kynge wondereth.

Boye ſtriketh againe.

Upon ye left do you ſee him, Boye, Pudel Dogge to Prince Rupert, winner of Battles & whatnot. Many a tyme hath he ridden beſide Our moſt loyal general, Prince Rupert of ye Rhine.

In anye caſe, Ye Kynge was thinkinge aboute ye uſe of publick diſcuſsioun forums; it is amuſing how, from a thing borne of ye will to diſcuſs, iſ moſt often borne a ſectarian place dominated by one of ye pointes of viewe, and whoſe goale is ſupreſsing diſsent.

Ah! Perfidious parliament of myne, doſt thou followe ye ſame route?

Ye Dunciad

IF ye Kynge hath a moſt-ſpecial Powere, it is that of travellinge through Tyme (and indeede he doth, for otherwiſe, how would he be writinge a Royal Blogge?), and therefore, We ſaw, in our travels upon ye Royal Inter-kyngdome Webbe, that one of our (future) ſubjects had writtene a moſt amuſing Booke called ye Dunciad (hinte -- his name is Pope).

How appropriate indeede, that ſuch a name be compoſed! For, uſing of my Kingly powere, I ſhall appropriate Myſelfe of itte and uſe it for this Article.

Ye Dunciad is a ſong much ſung in theſe future Tymes; mediocrity, as it ſeemeth, hath become ye rule amongſt our ſubjects, and, foregoing ye healthy emulatione of My Owne Tyme, ſeem to diſpute themſelves ye Title of being ye moſt Mediocre & Undeſerving.

Among theſe are even thoſe who, fancying themſelves men of letters, have gone to Univerſitye, and yet prove themſelves to be all the greater Fools by denigrating & attacking ye work of others, in particular ye Theologiſts, by evoking pink Unicornes, not knowinge thatte, whereas ye dogma is derived from exegeſis, ſynods & councils, their pinke Unicorne is derived from Stupidity. Their owne ſtupiditye, mind.

Then are thoſe who, like this dubious Subject of myne, Sir Marmaduke Rawdon (a Manne whom I've had to knighte in ſpite of him having ye refinement of a Green-Grocer) uphold their own lack of breeding, and feel as naked without their baſeneſs, as a Whore without her Patches.

And many more a foole did I meete through my Travels through Tyme; I could ſpeak of ye Catalans, who foregoe all but themſelves, and claim Linage & Parentage with thoſe who recognize them not (ſuch as ye Sardinians!), or thoſe who baſhe ye French, or thoſe who call themſelves antifaſciſtes (a very novel word) whilſt they perpetrate actes of violaunce, or thoſe who believe Spain to be in ſouth America, &c.

Ye Kynge ſhall not go on; yet reſt aſsured, that he thinks they are idiots.

Meet our Royal Couſin

Meete Our Royal Couſin, Louis XIII of France. You may already have noticed ye familiaritye between us.

The other day, Louis ſaid to himſelf, "I fancy a little Chocolate." And ſo, he was ſo kind to call upon Henrietta and We at our retreat in Dunfermline Caſtle, where we hadde Chocolate and diſcuſsed polytiques.

What! We were appalled to heare, that ſome of Our Royal Subjects, in ye American colonyes, were badde-mouthinge Our Royal Couſin and his kin. Pray, tell us more, (ſaid We) and he did recount to Us, that there was little a ſlur, no matter how meane, which was ſaved in denigratynge Our Couſin, and moſt in general, ye French.

We uttered our Royal ſcoff, however, when he told us ye moſt amuſing Jeſt: They claymed ye French were cowards!

Wherever they founde ſuch a fooliſh concept, I ſhall attribute to ye fevers of ſuch tropicall latitudes. Indeede, amongſt ye moſt victorious Nations of our tyme, in what cometh to courage, God's Wounds! Ye French have few rivals. Have we not been at warre with them manye tymes, and yet we know notte who was moſt meritorious of the two, ſo verily conteſt'd was ye fighte?

Yet indeede (ſayeth He) they inſiſt that we "ſurrender" at everye chaunce we gette. What, (ſays I) with ye cruel warre You lead againſt ye mighty Spaniard ſtill, and yet come out unſcathed? Indeede (replieth He) they ignore all reaſon; and when ſuch examples are quoted, as a manner of illuſtrating them, they yet claime that thoſe were not victories, and that we loſt all ye warres, and that we exiſt thankes to them.

At this pointe, I knew not what to ſay. How could men be turned fools to ſuch an extente? I ſhall ſpeak to ye Royal Apothecarye, who is a Doctor of Physick, and telle him to preſcribe ſome remedye to my ſubjects acroſs ye vaſt Sea.