Brisbane City 3 - Road to Gundagai

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT OF THE FUNERAL OF LADY MAXINE

INTRODUCTION

For centuries now there have been great State Funerals for the ‘more-important-than-us’ community and we have been witness to great moments of pomp and ceremony. Some deserve it some don’t—Lady Elizabeth Murdoch deserved a great funeral, Don Bradman did not. John Kennedy deserved his funeral, Osama did not.  So it has been with the landed gentry of this fair Linton district. The aristocracy, the blue-blooded, the born to rule or the heroic. All those qualities were to be found in Lady Maxine and so it is only fitting that she be given a unique funeral far beyond what would normally be held outside the Cathedrals of the Capital Cities.

We are indeed privileged to be chosen by the Principal Equerry to the Dynasty, to be the only media outlet with permission to convey to you the sad, somber mood and the dignified ceremony that we expect to make up the funeral service.

Official Broadcaster 88.1 FM Tourist Radio with Commentator Havannah Luff.  Here are extracts from the official recording.

THE FUNEREAL PROCESSION

As a commentator who has broadcast the Olympic Games I am overwhelmed by the spectacular assembly of mourners here at the Open Air Grass Castle for this most sad occasion. High in our commentary box in the pine trees we can see all and hear all and with great honour to tell all.

In the distance one can hear the great bleatings echoing through the hills and dales of Happy Valley. Her subjects  are weeping, wailing and tearing at their wool in grief. They have all been invited to gather at the top paddock to be witness to her internment but many are so devastated they just want to lie down and wait for the mobile Abattoir. A small private service has already taken place attended to by the Fox Family given the task of preparing the body for the ceremony.

Down in the peu’s we can see, waiting for the commencement of the service Lady Baabaa wearing a fox stole and Diva the Whippet with an equally impressive rabbit collar and matching beret with her golden nipple rings glinting in the light of a brilliant sun. Fluke from Linton with a heavily gelled mohawk is often boasting about being the son of some right royal German bitch and an outback Australian kelpie and we see his father seated behind him with corks hanging from the points of his ears to keep the flies away.

On the left side of the aisle we find ‘Ginger’ the pub cat who, as usual, is ignoring anyone that doesn’t smell of cat food. Next to him is Dim Sum a nearby neighbour who is rumoured to be a bit of a rough diamond when it comes to chasing Pussy (he lives in Snake Valley) and seems more interested in the contents of his nose than the people around him.  It is believed his dad was a nose nugget miner from Rokewood.

On the family side we spy Princess Felicity Linton-Suffolk from Piggoreet, the great aunt of Lady Maxine, and we’ve been advised that in her ‘Doggy Bag’ she carries the last remnants of her husband Prince Joseph de Mouton who is now in the form of an Irish Stew.

We have neglected to mention that up here with me in the broadcast box we have with us ‘Phil’ the painter furiously wielding his black brush on a huge canvas to record the scene below for the National Wool Museum. He has asked us not to mention his day job as a Shearer for fear of sending a ripple of fear and loathing through the congregation.

Max was known to be both obsessive and fastidious and her attendants are very careful to ensure that everything go according to plan. It is was right on the dot of 11 AM as the first of the procession of mourners rises above the grass and very slowly move towards the great rock of  the Supreme Sheep.

Preceding the coffin we see the Most Reverend Cass E. Roll, head bowed low and walking at a very slow pace through the wattle trees so as not to trip in rabbit holes hidden in the long grass. Close behind is ‘Butch’ (Bruce Linton-Suffolk de Mouton Runt - Brother to Betty the Successor) carrying aloft the Poisoned Chalice balanced on the Great Popadom of Rainsorpours.He carries this symbol of fallibility with great aplomb even for such a young guy but we feel a bit put off when we see that Butch is trying to emulate the Basil Fawlty Goose-step made worse by the fact that he is such a chronic ‘square-gater’.

Behind him we see his sister ‘’Betty’’ (Elizabeth Linton-Suffolk de Mouton Runt) whose facial expression behind the whispy black veil is that of someone who lost five cents but found a dollar most likely anticipating her Coronation. It has been said that Betty believes in being not only promoted to ‘Her Ladyship’ but given that she is the great grand-daughter of Queen Anne of Suffolk (nee Lounge) the elevation to ‘Her Majesty’’. It was overheard recently that she made the comment that given the sexual proclivities of her brother Butch that their should be two Queens of Godfrey Zone.

Betty is seen carrying waist high in front of her the great Shepherds Crook of State. This symbol of power has been wielded around the necks of generations of the Lamb and de Mouton families. Made of pure gold it was once said that, in Australia, it rode on the backs of sheep for a century.

Then a hushed silence as the great casket comes into view, held high above the shoulders of the bearers, stamped very clearly on both sides in magnificently gilded Stencilled letters:-

‘Property of Elders Ltd — THIS SIDe up r’

The great Casket is born aloft by four members of the Household Flock dressed in their Landmark uniforms. Aside from the Elders Crest we see the sides of the casket are decorated with little golden icons representing the three stages of life. Birth, Breed and Butcher. Each corner a golden gargoyle depicting the four evils of Marking, Back-lining, Drenching and Shearing and between them hang silver garlands of a selection of grasses.

And so we come to the entourage behind the great casket. First of all we see Mr. Kebab (Master of the Pens) and Ms. Roast (Mistress of the Feeds) the Principal Stewards. She in a full length dress of Cranbury Sauce color and he in a plain robe of Butchers Paper. Completing this household trio we come to Sir Hayu (Master of the Guard).  These acolytes have an important role to play bowing, scraping and butt-licking those who are more important than us. Sir Hayu, for example, spent a lot of time between the cheeks of Alan Jones the broadcaster before moving to this household. Either side of Sir Hayu move the two little lambikins from the neighbours lot carrying thigh bones of burning lanolin .

Behind this Household Executive we see two members of the Diplomatic Corps. Fatima Arze representing Spain wearing a simple Castilian Comb between her horns and a flaming red Flamenco Dress trimmed along the edges with little prancing human babies, and Farsi El Karsi from the Islamic Republic Of Merino who seems to drift along in a full length Black Burqa. Unfortunately the encompassing material appears longer than her legs and we have to witness an occasional stumble as her hooves get caught up between cloth and carpet.

Oh! Dear ….. A travesty ….. what’s this …. I thought so…...stumbling through the trees and dislodging their tiara’s it is not surprising that bringing up the rear and late as usual come Dali Lhama and Panchun Al Packer (a.k.a Dumb and Dumber), who unfortunately appear to have got the wrong end of the stick again hurtling up the grassy aisle holding their skirts aloft and dressed a ……….good heavens ……as….. as ‘Bridesmaids’?

Well this is a turn-up for the books these two never seem to get it right and are just now looking imperiously around and realizing that it’s a funeral procession. Oh! Dear …. Well I suppose that’s what you expect from Chilean migrants.

It’s back to the service as we notice that Ms. Roast had tears streaming down her face and I recall that the last time she cried so hard was on the demise of Chutney and Mr. Kebab seemed to be contemplating the horrible act of Hayu skewering him from behind on the end of his stately sword.

Lady Maxine had always requested that she never be hung, drawn or quartered like her ancestor Sir Humphrey Megameat. So it was always in her will that she would be laid to rest in peace. However as the Fox Family cleverly worked out she did not say in how many peaces.

Not since the Court of King Caractacus have we witnessed such a scene  but we’ll have to break our broadcast there to turn over the record and wind-up the player.

With the procession having come to a conclusion with the laying down, a little too quickly in my opinion, of the great Elders Casket the participants all disperse to their various stalls decorated for this occasion by the Agricultural Society of Victoria. We see here too, amongst the mourners several representatives of the Meat and Livestock Corporation, and I see in a far corner, fortunately almost out of sight under a pine tree, a lone ewe holding up a sign which I think says ‘Stop the live export market’. That’s a pity really when you consider who is covering the cost of parts of this exclusive coverage or the fact that we are here to mourn a ewe that’s no longer alive and not facing export.

A hush falls over the assembled multitude, all one can hear is the discreet suckling of some of the younger lambs, as the service proper swings into gear. It is here that we will be entertained, if that is the right word, by the Hallelujah Singers from the all-singing, all-dancing, all-huggy choir of the Even Jelly Church at Happy Valley. Renowned for their excellent vibrato singing they will break out into a trio of hymns - Onward Christian Sold Ewes, We are Sailing and Click Go The Shears.

· - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - -   use your own imagination for a moment - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The absolutely stunning choir of soprano wethers was conducted by a choirmaster well-known for his imaginative use of seminal fluids to moisten the boys throats. He wrote the hymn ‘Just a spoonful’ especially for the boys..

The Most Reverend Cass E. Roll steps up to the alter now and proceeds through a complicated ritual of waving legs to pass plates and prepare knives and forks. His back is turned to us so we are not privy to the recipe he is following but we believe it to be the Four Ingredient Cookbook.

The Celebrant turns, and facing the flock, holds a bowl of Malt Nibbles aloft and says -

“Eat this in remembrance of me for this is my body and don't forget to brush your teeth afterwards’.

Then he raises up the Great Silver Gobbler -

“Drink this in remembrance of me for this is my blood so please don’t drive afterwards’

The Reverand Cass then moves solemnly to the fruit box which today acts as a pulpit. He raises one leg and parts his hoof for a V for peace sign and then launches into a whole lot of Latin.

Dontus forgetum coitus interuptus of the fox who jumpeth overies thy lazi doggus. Noweth ist thus time whence alluth goodeth rams comus  to thine partis andeth ineth the endeth dontus forgeteth the partridge therith in thine pears tree.

Cass E. Roll now nods towards Sir Hayu to indicate the beginning of farewell speeches and the formal elegy.

Sir Hayu mounts the fruit crate and speaks -

As we all know Lady Maxine Linton-Suffolk de Mouton has had a very colorful past. Without getting into too complicated a story we are all aware that Max was the daughter of Princess Felicity Linton-Suffolk and Prince Joseph de Mouton and grand-daughter of Cecil Linton, Lord of the Dip, and Queen Anne of Suffolk (nee Lounge). Her sister Lady Mary Linton-Suffolk de Mouton was born the following lambing season.

It was a sad fact that many of the Linton branch of the family were barren and the only line of succession was through two girls with dubious genetic connections on the de Mouton side of the family. As a result this whole arm of the flock would eventually adopt the formal title of Linton-Suffolk de Mouton and not continue with their claim to the throne of Queen Anne of the Lounge.

Hayu then seems to lose the plot and waffles on about once saving her life. He relates the story that Peppie Gibbons the Whippet had inadvertently wandered up the race to her private chambers. On entering Max got such a shock that she stamped her foot in his direction as much as to say ‘leave the room right now’. The dog, not speaking sheep, misinterpreted the signal and ran towards her expecting that she might pull a rabbit out from somewhere under her fleece. Max then got the wrong impression that Peppie might try to find the hidden rabbit and she took off as quick as her fat little shanks would carry her out the gate.

As any physicists would know if you put more into your left foot when running caused by looking over your right shoulder you will tend to run in a circle rather than a straight line and about halfway around Peppie realized this and gave up the chase by returning to the starting point and waiting for Max to arrive back. She circumnavigated the water tank and did a double take when Peppie came into view standing firm and wielding a cape and sword. A pall of dust swirled up around her brakes as she skidded face first into the dirt.

I (Sir Hayu) then came from my guard box and placed myself between the dog and her ladyship allowing time for her to escape the vicious dogs clutches. He relates to us that having escaped certain death Max was last seen disappearing over the hill with her tail between her legs (if she had a tail long enough to put between her legs.)

Sir Hayu has completed his ramblings and vacated the talking race allowing Butch (Bruce Linton-Suffolk de Mouton Runt) to climb into the pulpit. Butch (who would prefer to be called Beatrice) points one limp foreleg toward Lady Maxine’s coffin and, choking back tears, tells us of his camaraderie with her in times of crisis.

“It had been one of those cold winter mornings when two-legged males have to watch out not to cut their three Adams Apples when shaving. Mr. Man had organised the annual anal trim and had arranged Brazillians for the girls and Brozillians for the boys.  And, if you excuse me, I will read a little of the record as written by Mr. Man.”

“Hearing a scuffle in the container where the feed was kept I feared the worst when I heard something say ‘I’ll do yours and you can do mine’. It reminded me of my school days behind the bike shed. However, on getting there I found Butch dampening down the pile of crutched wool with hobby glue and guiding Max where to sit in order to stick it back where it had been shorn from. I chased them from the container with a few well targeted words I cannot repeat here and Butch with his hooves covered in hobby glue and Max with half attached wool clumps trailing behind her like a bridal veil couldn’t disappear fast enough”.

“I can remember this event quite well, ” said Butch, ”and his description is sufficiently close to the truth to satisfy on this sad occasion”.

Butch now stands down but not without flipping a one-finger salute to his sister. Is this a gesture of sibling rivalry?

It is now the turn for the very straight forward Fatima Arze, Ambassadress of Spain, to come forward on behalf of the international flock. So she bleats-

“Lady Maxine was generous to the core but she did have some racist and xenophobic leanings. As much as we loved her she insisted on maintaining her White Australia Policy a stance in which Pauline Hanson would have been proud. Her tolerance towards differently gendered sheep was a tad more tempered. I can recall her once saying that she had no time for homophonic sheep but sometimes they looked just like normal stereophobic sheep and as long as they didn’t hoof it where it was not supposed to go she was content to live and let live, however she was always against marriage in any form happy and gay or not. It was only her royal duty to have formerly married as demanded by the relatives.

I tried several times to moderate her position and did finally achieve the upper hand by showing her graphic images from a recipe book on how to prepare ‘Lamb Shanks’ and that tended to shut her up for a while at least. Of course the arrival of Farsi the Islamic Merino” - and here she looks straight at Farsi - ” caused a bit of a stir because she began telling really bad jokes about Tabouli and insisted on making pig noises behind her back.

I just looked across towards where Farsi is sitting but cannot detect on her face, because of her Burqa, whether she is amused or not. The listeners might recall that there has been some animosity between Islamists and Spain that reach right back to the occupation by the Moors in the times of the Caliphate. Much has been said about the ‘Sheep Spring’ of recent times where the Merino’s of Morocco have been stirring up some very democratic ideas around the Mediterranean.

Fatima continues. “Max was never really able to elaborate on her political preferences very clearly. I do know that she gagged on seeing the voting poster of Julia Gillard and only points her tail towards Daryl Cheeseman. I think she might be diametrically opposite my own voting preferences. Although even she felt that the totally dysfunctional government and opposition we have presently would be far better run if we handed it over to few educated unemployables.

Finally Farsi El Khazi clambers onto the box with difficulty to begin speaking and diplomatically steering clear of any remarks related to the previous speaker. Farsi, her breath making little billows under the veil of the Burqa spoke very fondly of Max’s love for gardening. It was a pleasure she participated in daily and she would have been overjoyed to be allowed to roam freely through the recently opened gardens of Mannibadar. In particular she was very proud of her Hydrochloric Garden, her words not mine, and would spend days neatly nibbling around the edges. I recall once trying to plant a herb garden only to have Max immediately lay claim to it (on some spurious excuse that it was on her Manor and thus immune from international law) and she made sure that none of the plants ever grew taller than 2 cm. I will miss her dearly.

With the formal farewells now complete and the assembly dutifully standing the Choir burst out in a tag shattering -

IF YOUR HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT CLAP YOUR HOOVES – CLIP CLOP

IF YOUR HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT CLAP YOUR HOOVES - TIP TAP

IF YOU HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT THEN LIFT YOUR WOOL AND SHOW IT

IF YOUR HAPPY LET THE WORLD KNOW WHAT YOU’VE GOT

This piece accompanied by a florid fusillade of fanfares from fifty f****** fowls from across the field which sounded to us very much like ’DOO DAH DOO DAH DAY’ and several Andalusian sheep high stepping behind the Supreme Coven Leader ‘Wendy’ - a recent escapee from Tweeney Lane.

  

THE INTERMENT

Well here we are again, another side of the disc and a rewound player. You will recall that the main service had finished and we were getting ready for the next big phase of this stately funeral for Lady Maxine Linton-Suffolk de Mouton where we finally get to drop her into the grave she insisted she dug for herself.

As we are awfully close to the graveside we will have to speak as though we are commentating ‘Pot Black’ and whisper almost inaudibly so as not to disturb the mourners. With us is Phil the Painter (we call him that so as not to scare the sheep). You know Phil, few people are aware that Max was well regarded in the fashion industry, especially the wool fanciers. Just look around the hole at the mourners. Lady Gaga attracts the more eccentric designers from Armani, Yawmani and Mymarni whilst Betty and Fatima seem to prefer Suzie’s on Sussex who recently had that successful fashion parade called ’Ewes Clothing for Wolves’. There are representatives too from the Wool Secretariat running their hands over the ladies, I think, a little too fondly, the Ugg Boot companies and fashionisters for everything from head to hoof, or as someone from the back stalls commented ‘from tits to arse’ which is not very far when you think about sheep. I see that you pointed out the Podiatrist from Hoofit just over there.

Just on Lady gaga for a moment we heard that she broke up with Madonna recently. She was so devastated that she offered herself for the ultimate sacrifice and now Madonna has become Ma Doona.  We notice there are a few in attendance rapidly approaching their Ewes By Date.

Lady Maxine, who was a little dyslectic, had always wanted to be part of the Hypochondriac Garden at the Placebo down by the dam and it was here that the family decided she would finally be laid to rest. The old ride-on had been turned into a mini-tractor for this eventuality and, draped tastefully in black tulle, was hooking up to the trailer with a gilded chain. It has now started it’s engine and is moving slowly with the great Elders Casket from the top paddock towards the dam.  Some of the mourners have had to stand back a little and some to duck as freshly cut grass blows all over them but the lawn behind looks really nice.

While this is taking place we have a few moments to recall some of the life of Max. Television, she liked her TV, and nothing would stop her from settling down with a glass of drench while she watched the adventures of ‘Shawn the Sheep’ followed by ‘Wibbly Pig’. The only time I ever saw her get really mad and throw her drink over Peppie was when he got hold of the remote and kept switching to the program ‘Wilfred’. These two have never been great friends and I saw him sitting down outside the funeral parlour a few days back rubbing his paws together like the Golem from Lord of the Rings and saying to himself over and over again ….”Oh my precious …. My precious….. My new bones are inside.’

On another occasion I had just finished reorganizing my stamp collection by size and was a little off my face from Skittles and Wine and wandered aimlessly, which is normal for me, up to Max’s paddock. She was somewhat upset about the neighbours. Pointing towards the neighbours property she calling out rather loudly ….‘Whores! ….Whores!. Upon enquiry she told me about the whores that had just moved in next door. I looked to where she was pointing and all I could see was Butch, Betty and Hayu in the middle of a La Crosse game with some of the neighbours sheep.. She pointed again but this time a little further back in the paddock then I realized she was getting all het up over the wrong thing. I had to tell her that they were horses not whores. Silly ewe.

That reminds me when she got really pissed off one day with the dog. She was preparing to pack up her gilded Georgian caravanette for a trip to Melbourne to visit some relatives at Christmas who had just got a job in a Christmas Manger at Preston.

“Is it true that people in Melbourne are more than likely to eat ewe?” she asked.

“Not very likely” I said while looking at her ninety kilogram frame “they’re not too keen on too much fat.”

“Good” said Max “I want to go and get a good look at the Cheeses” Seeing the puzzled look on my face she went on “don’t you want to see the Cheeses in the Manger?”

Peppie butted in by commenting on Max’s bulk and said,

“She was likely to decimate the bloody crib to get a peek at her Çheeses. Everyone surrounding the stables will be screaming sweet cheeses as you did so you clumsy bitch”

At that she gave her piss-off stamping which Peppie immediately misinterpreted as her wanting to dance, what he expected was a slow waltz what he got was a frantic and violent adagio with Max finally throwing him to the floor with a flourishing and satisfying ‘Tah..dah!’. Maxine always liked it a bit rough and her winter sheds always looked something like Stalingrad in February 1943.

To continue with a bit more decorum we witness the arrival of the casket at the graveside. As she is lifted from the carrier we hear much groaning and breaking of wind interspersed with sounds coming from the nearby bird sanctuary as we hear the mournful strains of Bagpipes playing Cummin’ Thro’ The Rye at the same time everyone was giving a general salute of Dags.

Before we go readers I’m reminded that on the really really local news today on tourist radio there was mention of a conspiracy theory, hopefully unfounded, that her sister Betty may have had a hand in her demise by hiring the elusive hit-man Reggie Side. It is believe the police are leaving no fleece ungraded in their search for the supposed culprit.

 THE WAKE

Elizabeth Linton-Suffolk de Mouton-Runt or just Betty as we know her is no stranger to controversy. During the days when she thought that Butch might sire something and thus remove her further from the Title she was quite a stirrer and had egged on Farsi El Khasi to threaten to blow herself up unless people stop eating sheep meat as well as pork. Her unsuccessfull call to arms being

 “ALLAN AKBAR – DOG IS GREAT كلب عظيمة  ”

As her casket is lowered into the ground the Reverend Cass E. Roll bleats out a gut-wrenching

“ÁSHES TO ASHES - DUST TO DUST- TAKE OFF THE HANDLES - THEY’RE LIKELY TO RUST”

while Peppie the Whippet splendifourously attired in his ‘Top Model’ outfit used his powerful hind legs to throw the first sods into the grave.

Having witnessed the final throes of grief amongst the mourners we will all be trundling off to have a little party. Just talk amongst yourselves while we walk down to the Belvedere Room at the Railway Hotel.

———————————————————————————-

It’s a little bit squeezy but here we are rump to withers ready to party on. For the nibbles Chef Gordonsey appears to have been very diplomatic in avoiding the serving of anything whose relative may be in attendance. Dave, Mine Host, has observed the request to only serve mourners ‘Bloody Mary’s’ as per the special request of Lady Maxine to show her utter contempt for her deceased sister who accidentally passed through a meat mincer last year. Not to be confused with the mincers in St.Kilda.

We have a reporter here from the Astonisher to move amongst the guests and get some small impressions of the late Max and what her friends thought of her. Here are some of their moderated comments.

Rev. Cass E. Roll

“ The wire gates have closed behind her for the last time and she’s in the race to Francis of Assisi”

Dowager Princess Felicity Linton-Suffolk of Goulburn N.S.W.

“There have been countless wakes within the memory of the clan but none could have surpassed this one with what seems to have an Irish theme considering the amount of ‘crack’ they said they would be having and even more so when they started off with a shitload of ‘grass’ in the form of hash brown-eyes. The whole lot planned and provided by that famous Chef Ram Gordonsey.”

Butch -

“Last night I had a nightmare about the goats running amok with machine guns and finally settling our land dispute. I doubt that the snipe, spar, spat and niggle with us sheep is going to end peacefully even now she’s gone. I’ve got a feeling those four Goats of the Apocalypse - Pestilence, War, Famine and Lastin will be causing us some grief.

Sir Candy Runt of Skipton Vic.–

“You know that Betty got head butted by Butch again last week don’t you. They’ve been fighting over Maxine’s beloved Cocky’s Comb her imagined symbol of divine rule over the clan. She claimed it was a sign of her nobleness”

Colonel de Mouton of the Catering Corps -

“Elizabeth has been in constant contact to try and see if I can help her through some of my official contacts with P.E.T.A. She had been checking her bloody emails every day but all she was getting was spam about enlarging her pizzle, which she hasn’t got, or how to eat more and still lose weight and how to enlarge your udder the natural way. She was thinking of an udder augmentation. I wanted her to start writing a blog but she was troubled by the iddy bitty keys she couldn’t get her hoof into and as a strict vegetarian was not too happy about handling a mouse. She began crying once when I brought to her attention that the keyboard had some short cuts and thought I meant the butchers short cuts.”

Mary Magda Lane - from Piggoreet - “Öh! Dear me, the pews were not only full I could smell them from afar.”

Fatima Arze - Ambassadress of Spain. -

‘”Betty is rather mean you know. She has declared that she should be elevated to Queen and known as Elizabeth the 3rd. Betty is hoping to be crowned and marked with royal blue paint.

Lady Baabaa - 

Being the rich bitch of the family I’m expected to help out financially. I got sick of having to pay for the repairs to Max’s trampoline. I told her countless times that she is too fat to jump on it, and for heavens sake when she does would she start wearing a bloody sports bra.”

Peppie Gibbons - Principle Equerry. -

“Far be it for me to say, after all I’m only a family retainer, but I’ve got to say that the I.Q of the whole family is a bit suspicious. You know - Maxine once told me that Noah’s Ark was North-West of Linton on Mount Ararat.

Well every story has to have an ending and this is ours. But don’t despair. The War of Godfrey Zone is just entering it’s first stages. Hostilities have been declared between, not only the de Mouton-Runts but the Goats too. Stay reading for our future adventure -

CROUCHING SHEEP, HIDDEN GOAT

Exclusive to the Linton Astonisher.

Available only from the Railway Hotel Linton Mens Room.

One size fits all.

Catholic version available

No vegetarian option.

THE PASSING

I was once very worried that the deposed Great Leaders of the Linton Ewes were going to send secret agents around to the Astonishing office and liquidate me. But I feel a lot more relaxed now that senility has prevailed and there has been a slight declination of tension in parts of the village. One wonders still about the future of the new Café located in the old Grocer Shop. It has had a difficult time getting up and running following the interference of Golden Pains Council doing their level best to stifle any economic improvements to the town.

This leaves me very little to bitch about recently and as a result have had to return to the reporting on more fanciful diatribe. What prompted this was the sudden passing into the sky-paddock of Max after the severe hailstorms of recent weeks and the need to pass onto you, dear reader, more of the stories about her adventures in this eulogy to a great lady.

The passing of Kim Jung Il and the succession of his psychotic son Kim Jung Un of North Korea was but nothing to the fantastical goings on at Godfrey Zone after the death of Lady Maxine. It was like the War of the Roses in miniature as the flock maneuvered themselves into the new pecking order and the maintenance of their own position in the line to the throne. 

It didn’t quite reach the point of flinging dung at each other but there was a lot of crazy blustering.

Our Hatch, Match and Dispatch Editor Dr. Ron Go will be giving us excerpts from the up and coming biography

‘I Was Lady Maxine’s Love Child’.

Exclusive to The Astonisher

BACKGROUND BRIEFING

A LITTLE TREE OF THE FAMILY

LINTON-SUFFOLK de MOUTON

This family tree goes way back to the period of the first Crusades when King Pizzle first gave a knighthood to Robert l’Ovine for his bravery in Ramming Jerusalem. Forward a few centuries and Oliver Crumbswell thanked the family again by confiscating the property of the Lambs and giving it all to the Mutton clan. As Hyacynth Bucket preferred the pronunciation of ‘Bouquet’ then the Muttons francified their name to ‘de Mouton’ and given the Kingdom of Lambeth.

In World War 1 the family dignified it’s name at the Battle of Gateux and again, in World War 2, during the Battle of the Bulges.

In Vietnam Colonel de Mouton demonstrated the bravery of the family during the ‘Big Tit Offensive’ and to the present day the de Moutons are central to the menu of the Catering Corps.