THE GRAVEDIGGER'S TALE

I guess he knows what he thinks, or rather what he's been told to think...

“We were told not to trust them,” explained the gravedigger, “we were told they were after our jobs, after our women, after everything we valued, And we believed them. Of course we believed them! They’d gone to the poshest schools when they were nippers, not like us to the comprehensive with its rotten teachers who, let’s face it, knew less than we did. No, the toffs in Parliament know loads of stuff and we knew nowt. You see, they’re educated t’ be clever.”

“And were they?” asked Sykes the reporter for some television network.

“Were they what?” asked the confused gravedigger.

“Your new neighbours. After everything that you treasured? Your jobs, like you said, and your women?”

“Nah, they didn’t want them,” sighed the gravedigger. “But they did want stuff. They must have, or they wouldn’t have come in their swarms, would they? ‘Undreds of them, there were, with their fancy foreign talk and rotten food. I mean, what would my old man have said if he couldn’t have his fry-up for breakfast? ‘E loved his full English, did my old man, wi’ greasy sausages an’ eggs floatin’ in lovely fat. Said it gave him a boost for the whole day! Saw him through, it did, until he had that heart attack and I ‘ad to dig a hole for ‘is box. and him not yet fifty. Bit he did love those breakfasts, but me? I truly fancy snap like that but do I get it? No I don’t! I get croiss-summat. Bread it is, fluffy bread and no good for a bloke who’s got a day’s work diggin’ holes for the dead ahead of him.”

“Poor man,” sighed the reporter.

“Who’s a poor man?”

“Your late father, God rest his soul. But what about women? You said they came for your women?”

“That’s what the toffs intimated. Said they came in their small boats from across the seas in order to ravish our lovely women. Like my old woman, sorry to call her old ‘cause she ain’t, but just looks it. By the side of their women, if you take my drift. They bring some rare beauties with them in their boats, raven haired wonders, they are, and it makes a fellow wonder why they need our women, but according to the poncy bloke in the Government that’s what they want. Our women, from under our noses. To flaunt their filthy gold at them and take them from us.”

“What gold might that be, sir?”

“It’s sir is it now? Well fancy you that! But what gold, you ask? The poncy bloke says they have riches all right, enough to seduce our women and cart them off.”

“Where to?”

“Where to what?”

“Where would they want to cart your women off to, when they have nothing themselves? No home, no next meal, no school for their kids, nothing?”

“Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? They want our jobs, and then they’ll have coin to seduce them with, take them to fancy foreign restaurants and treat ‘em like angels…”

“Don't you do that?”

“Do what?”

“What you said. Take your good lady out and treat her like an angel?”

“She wouldn’t want it. Not ‘er. She’s happy with her telly at night, you know Crossroads, EastEnders, that kind of thing. She don’t want no fancy snap in a posh foreign joint. I asked her once, years ago it was, and she laughed in my face.”

“So let’s get this straight. Why is it you don’t like your new neighbours?”

“Look, mate, I dig graves for a living so I don’t know much what fancy blokes as went to posh schools know, but I do know what those posh blokes said and I’ve got to believe them, haven’t I?”

“Why have you got to believe them?”

“Are you thick, or summat? They’re important men, they do parliament and stuff, they are educated and, well, they know more stuff than the likes of me know, and if they say as the bloke who’s moved in next door to me is after my job and my woman, then I’ve just got to believe them, ‘aven’t I? ‘Cause the truth is I can’t work that sort of thing out for mysen, can I? I ain’t educated to think like that. That’s why I voted t’ leave the damned Europe thing. Because they told me to.”

© Peter Rogerson 28.12.20

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is top-notch writing, powerful & haunting. Here in the USA we have a big problem with those who "follow" (avidly) without questioning one's leaders. Enuf said. Your satirical piece puts a dangerous reality into perspective -- first, becuz you tell this story in a somewhat sympathetic way. You're not wholly dissing such followers, but merely illustrating how they can be, a kick-in-the-butt word portrait of the "simple man". At the same time, I also feel the scorn between the lines. This is the way to put an opinion out there without being overtly judgmental or political (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Peter Rogerson]

I'm glad that you have appreciated this tale of the kind of politics that seems to have taken over on both sides of the Atlantic.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Peter for sharing the amazing story. I like the old people who see in the front of them. Not seeking to change the world. The simple things as eggs and bacon for breakfast. I liked the characters and I liked the conversation. You are a amazing story teller my friend. I enjoyed the complete story.
Coyote

[Peter Rogerson]

Thanks for your review. I try to squeeze a bit of relevance into my efforts

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome my friend.