Rebel without a leg to stand on.
I have been down to the Throat and Razor for my occasional evening of relaxation, and the mutterings of the Great Unwashed interested me enormously.
Among the cleintele of that less than salubrious establishment, the big, sweaty man known only as The Great Unwashed is, by far, the least adept at whispering. Most of their conversations come across as 'wsp...wsp...wsp...' to the extent that I once believed they spoke the language of insects in that pub, punctuated with furtive glances in my direction.
The Great Unwashed, however, has a deep and resonant voice, muffled only by layers of grime and a once-white peaked cap. Over a few pints of Jock McSquirty's Bowel Purger, I listened in. Fortunately I was able to hear him from my place at the bar. I'd have moved closer but I had not thought to bring my nostril plugs.
It seems Stumpy has begun to amass a following among the feeble-minded. Well, he's easy to follow. He doesn't move very fast.
Stumpy has certainly done something to impress them. Most of them now refer to him by his 'real' name of Leg-iron, a name he chose for himself since nobody remembered what he was called at birth. His parents called him by many names as he grew up but none of those names were ones you would realistically expect to see on a birth certificate - if such things were ever to be used in the village. They would be of little use, since few of these hooded oafs can read anyway. As for his family name, his parents refused to tell him what that was.
Stumpy's embroilment in politics has caused a minor sensation here. Oh, he knows nothing of the world of the politician. Like me, he has never regarded the outside world as being of any relevance at all.
There have been changes. Stumpy has taken an interest in happenings outside the swamp. If Stumpy draws attention to himself, he might also draw attention to me. Strangers will come to the castle. Officials will visit. My head was filled with these thoughts while I hurried home.
On arrival, I found the hamsters tired out. Stumpy is definitely using my computer. That's where he's getting his fancy ideas, I'm sure. Still, I was more concerned with the possibility of official visitors. Perhaps even a politician or two.
There's always plenty of meat on them. I ordered Stumpy to ready the ovens.
