Extracts from the plague diary of Mark ne-Francois-Pepys
June 14th 1665
Up and to Parliament Square for the fruit-picking interviews where all the morning drinking Export with various militias, and towards noon several carriages full of very stout yeomen from Blackburn,
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June 14th 1665
Up and to Parliament Square for the fruit-picking interviews where all the morning drinking Export with various militias, and towards noon several carriages full of very stout yeomen from Blackburn,
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Dagenham and Luton, heavy in drink and gak come to piss everywhere and fight the police, that the fridge ramparts and armed perimeter preventing words like ‘RACIST’ being daubed on Churchill’s monument deprives these nascent asparagus harvesters of an opportunity to refute
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the allegation with bottle hurling, Nazi saluting and singing ‘We’re racist, we’re racist, we’re racist and that’s the way we like it’. After several minutes spent assessing the strawberry gathering skills of a group of men from Accrington, the mob did rising to a grayte
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incoherent heat, I think from the skulling of Stella, and I felt it wise to accommodate myself in a vacant portaloo wherein I curled an expedient thunderturd and listened to the brave fellows express a belief that all lives matter by burning signs saying black ones do and
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battering Catchpoles with families at home wishing for their safe return. By and by after a merrie hour throwing flares at police horses, a disorderly Grimsby contingent is come to my chodbin and I hearing in what manner these prostatriots come did forbear letting in, but as
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they stood Enoching and rocking my chamber I found it convenient to push back the roof and clamber out, and the fellows did give some affront and taunt me and I would have drubbed them, but that they were distracted by a lager-free picnic and went to fight agent proseccoteurs
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instead, answering as high as themselves that they would untile my portapotty later, so I took occasion to return to Wickford vexing, and who would have thought that venerating war as our greatest national achievement could distress those who bathe in the wrathos when the
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notion is countered, and I am come to fear for our discourse that I see an absolute hatred is stoked by the ill-quills who enjoy to fuel fires and hate to souse them, and I set down this day’s journall my mind out of order, which troubles me for the sake
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of our Monarch’s service, and for my country, and the honour of our children much more. And also, who will pick the carrots? Curlywurly. Bed.
