Our Peasant is revolting

rubi-puig-campana-silly-horse

Rubí Donkey writes her Rubí Tuesday blog.

 

The Peasant flew off to London, weekend before last. Carl came to feed us.  That nice police inspector from the Benidorm Policia Local came to collect manure on the Sunday morning, so we had some company for a while.  But the absence of our Peasant meant a bit of a dull weekend, on the grooming and donkey-walking side of things.

The Peasant said he had gone off to stop a Brexit. We don’t quite understand that because he does a lot of stopping a Brexit here. If the Peasant can’t stop a Brexit using the Interweb, how does he think he can stop one by shouting outside the Ritz Café in Piccadilly?

Anyway, after breakfast this morning I had a poo and got all philosophical.  So, while he was sweeping up the poo, I asked the Peasant what was the point of spending a whole lot of money flying to London and I was curious to know if he had stopped the Brexit.  Here is my interview with our Peasant:

RUBÍ DONKEY: I’m doing interviewing now.  Are you ready?

THE PEASANT: Yes, just start, Rubí.

RUBÍ DONKEY: Are you going to groom me while I interview you?

THE PEASANT: I can see you have a hidden agenda in your interview…  OK I’ll get the brushes.

RUBÍ DONKEY: It’s the only way to get a grooming these days, as you seem to be always stopping a Brexit and haven’t even fed the chickens yet this morning!

THE PEASANT:  Aaaaargh!  I’ll feed the chickens and then get your brushes…

[THE PEASANT ENTERS THE CHICKEN PEN WEARING PROTECTIVE KNEE-PADS AND SAFETY GOGGLES.  THERE IS A FLURRY OF FLAPPING, SQUAWKING AND SWEARING.  THE PEASANT ESCAPES WITHOUT LOSING AN EYE AND FETCHES MY GROOMING BRUSHES.]

…OK  Chickens fed, Rubí.

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RUBÍ DONKEY: Right, I’ll continue doing interviewing then. When you went to London, did you manage to stop any Brexits?

THE PEASANT: [BRUSHING VIGOROUSLY] There were seven hundred thousand people in London, Rubí. They all wanted to stop Brexit.  We didn’t actually think Brexit would stop on Sunday just because we had marched on Saturday, but during all last week there were clearly good signs that the march had changed the balance.  Many politicians and media people who had been waffling on about Brexit being “the will of the people” could now see it was looking a bit more likely that the people must be consulted on the shambles we have got now.

RUBÍ DONKEY: Ouch! Can you use a softer brush to get the straw dust out of my forehead please?  And is that a mange patch on my lower right ear?

THE PEASANT: Yes, that will cleaning with carbolic soap, but not today.

RUBÍ DONKEY: Why not, because you have to stop a Brexit?

THE PEASANT: No, you silly donkey.  Because there’s a cold wind. I’ll wash it when it is warmer, so you don’t get a chill.  [BRUSHING]  You see the main thing now is that we have a real chance to stop Brexit, which I didn’t honestly think we had before.

RUBÍ DONKEY: Why?  What has changed?

THE PEASANT: When you get 700,000 people on the streets (and some estimates put it at 1.2 million, but that analysis came too late for the Sunday papers) those people begin to see that they have formed a really strong community.  No longer just Twitter friends and Facebook friends, but actual people with real concerns, who are mixing together, singing together, shouting together.  What do we want?  People’s Vote!  When do we want it?  NOW!

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RUBÍ DONKEY:  Do you think your friend Steve will say this interview is like a Harold Pinter dialogue?

THE PEASANT: No, Rubí.  I don’t think we ever get pinteresque on this blog.  It is generally more long-winded. Did you just fart?  [STEPS OUT OF STABLE AND CONTINUES PEASANTSPLAINING.]  So Brexit is actually a fascist coup.  I wrote about this on my blog but I did honestly hesitate before writing the title. I don’t want to look like David Icke or someone, a conspiracy theorist who thought the world was run by lizards from outer space.  However, a close reading of Umberto Eco’s essay on fascism makes chilling reading when you look at the people running the Brexit scam.  It is an attempt at a fascist coup.

RUBÍ DONKEY: A coup?  Is that like a chicken coup?  Are our chickens fascists?

THE PEASANT: No, they are more related to reptiles, Rubí.

RUBÍ DONKEY: Oh yes.  Morris thinks they will produce dinosaurs and that’s why you take all their eggs away every day.

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THE PEASANT: Morris, STOP annoying Rubí. I’m trying to groom her. She is interviewing me for her blog.

MORRIS: Is her blog pinteresque?

PEASANT: Just go out of the stable will you?

MORRIS: Strong and stable.

[THE PEASANT CHASES MORRIS OUT.  AITANA FOLLOWS MUTTERING QUIETLY.]

AITANA: No it’s not very pinteresque weather today.

RUBÍ DONKEY: Aitana you are such a silly horse! [SIGHS] Anyway, Brexiting is too confusing and I’m fed up with interviewing you.  Can I go and play with Matilde now?  She’s waiting for me.

 


8 thoughts on “Our Peasant is revolting

  1. Dear Ms. Rubí
    In answer to your question with The Peasant (TP) about semblance of pinteresque…

    There were many opportunities which you gave TP to show his pinteresque kitchen sink expertise. It is a pity he took the lead on none of them, the most poignant being carbolic soap which he gave you no possibility to develop. Indeed, all he seemed interested in was stopping the brexit. Try as you may, he was more interested in name dropping; drinking beer at The Ritz on Picadilly indeed. It’s how much a pint?

    Just like 2 weeks ago when he defrocked The Pope, so it was this week it was stopping the brexit. and that’s all it was. But fear not. Your time shall come and you can look forward to developing the best of early sixties Pinterism. I can hear it now…

    TP: That’s a carbolic soap job?
    Rubí: Carbolic soap?
    TP: Carbolic soap.
    (pause)
    I remember my old uncle Pip. Swore by the stuff. Always backed the favourite in the last race he did.
    R: You surprize me.
    TP. Oh yes. Never missed an opportunity old uncle Arthur.
    R: I thought you said he name was Pip.
    TP. Yes, but we always called him Simey.
    (pause. He grooms)
    Stopped the brexit every Friday afternoon after matins did uncle Ted.
    (pause. He grooms)
    Then, all of a sudden at evensong, he’d write a poem about the conclave of 1502 and whether he had enough B&Q emulsion to paint la capilla sixtina.

    In conclusion, don’t give up.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ROFL in the manure. Rubí is having her supper in the stable and it is pouring with rain. So I’ll put the cuppa on and have a kettle of tea. And I’ll tell her that you writtied a nice letter. She’s a great fan of Pinter as you can see.

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  3. Just think Rubi: while the peasant is continuing his daily attempt at stopping The Brexit, you won’t have to endure a shower with carbolic soap – unless you have a warm sunny day of course, but that is very unlikely in a Pinter play. You can work on the scene in the meantime… What will you call your piece? “Waiting for the Peasant”…? “The Carbolic Soap Party”…?

    Liked by 1 person

  4. LOL! Yes, Morris Buckett would be a great name for an absurdist playwright.

    I can see it now. The Guardian/Observer theatre critic Melvyn Billington writes on page 95 of the features pages: “The Buckett List: absurdist plays by Morris Buckett that you must see or read before you die. None of them are a bludgeoning mass of juvenile trivia. Honest, guv…

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