From time of electoralis and the ascension of Gambrach to the throne, the Kingdom had suffered violence. Usually, the violent would have taken it by force, but the violent were hungry, for there was a pestilence upon the land. There was unchill and it was a-brewing and a-stewing.
The people waited to hear a word from King Gambrach but nary a word proceeded from the Palace. Wherefore, the people began to call Gambrach the most outspoken King they had ever had, for he only spoke when he was out of the Kingdom, in foreign lands. Hehehe.
And in that time, amidst the fomenting discomfort in the land, a man named Joe-Hakeem had a falling out with his neighbour. His neighbour came from the north of the Kingdom and his father, like the King was also called Gambrach. Gambrach, it was said, was a very common name. So common, in fact that Lady Yeeshah, wife of Gambrach, was declared not to be the Yeeshah, wife of Gambrach that was wanted in Barrackistan; it was a different Yeeshah with a husband named Gambrach.
Lo, in their falling out did Joe-Hakeem decide to rechristen his dog Gambrach. The dog was an adult dog, and it was not certain that the dog was aware of its new moniker. But behold, did the neighbour raise alarm, that Joe-Hakeem had named his dog after the King and lo, did chill depart from their community. Gambrach the dog, formerly known as Doggy the dog, was killed. And yea, the head of the constabulary arrested him and charged him with blasphemy of the royal name, a hitherto unknown offence in the Kingdom. And the people were amazed, for others had named their dogs after Kings in the past quadrannia, with no consequence.
“He is apprehended and incarcerated by the constabulary at the behest of Gambrach! He must be!” the people cried.
But Gar-Bar, the King’s chief scribe, heard the accusation and rose quickly in defence of his master. “Friends, Twilistians, Countrymen, lend me your ears. If only thou wouldst know the true nature of your king! Your king suffereth from Many Years Disease and heareth not your common talk. Behold, he heareth thee not for many years, and so couldst not have instigated the constabulary.”
The people yinmued, for they had grown weary of Gar-Bar’s persistent beatification of Gambrach.
“Besides,” Gar-Bar continued, “when he assembleth the spies of the kingdom, that they mayest inform him of the goings-on, he listeneth first NOT to cries of your travails, nor the words of wisdom from the apostles of marketology! No! He listeneth first to the jesters, the fools and the parodists, that he mayest laugh upon the reports of how the kingdom pastiches him! Is he not a great and benevolent king?”
The people were not amused and lost further chill, for Gar-Bar had revealed the mind of Gambrach to them, and their cries and travails were not of prime importance. The mother of all unchills would indeed have swept through the land, were it not for the visit of a very august visitor.
Far, far away in Barrackistan, there was the high priest of the Book of Faces, dedicated to the god of the Book of Faces, from his time as a youth in the citadel of VardHarla, in the kingdom of Barrackistan. His name was Marcus von Zuck, and Marcus von Zuck chose this time to come to the kingdom.
High Priest Marcus was very wealthy, and throughout the four corners of the earth, were men, women and children who worshiped at the temple of the Book of Faces. And he came to bless his followers and give them succour.
In the Palace, Councillor Shittinksi looked for his whitest glove, in anticipation of audience with High Priest Marcus, for the followers of Marcus fell under the authority of his prefecture. But Marcus was allergic to bullshit and so avoideth and shunneth him.
And there was chill, as the followers showed their High Priest the fullness of the land and besought him to send even more andelic minstrels into the land.
But Marcus departed, and a proclamation went forth from Kal El, the Counting Master of the kingdom, announcing what many already knew in their hearts. The Counting Master and his counting crew had counted, and had beheld that the rent was too damn high, and that the land was in a recession.
And the people looked to Gambrach in vain, to see if he could see them beyond the parody; if he could hear them beyond his unlooking. Behold, a voice came, as if from the palace. The voice sounded, as if it were the voice of Lady Kem Shun, of Sarf Londinia, who was Gambrach’s councillor of the purse.
“Behold, fam! I know tings is wicked bruv, you get me? And this is desperate times of oppression, innit? But that is why we finna cut down the shopping sprees and ting! And just in case youse don’t believe me blad, here’s my two most peng warriors – Time and Patience. I am sending them out to you, so you can know that recession is just a word, mate. Boom, selecta!!!”
Brethren, say it with me – the people heard her words, and there was no gaddem chill, no modicum of decorum, no iota resembling it, in the entire gaddem land!