The New World Order has come to pass. It has been decreed by the king that from this day forth, the order of “World” should not be w-o-r-l-d, as at present, but o-w-l-r-d. When a space is introduced between the l and the r, we get Owl Rd, where Rd is a common abbreviation for Road. Thus the New World Order is to be found along Owl Road, which is to be the new name for every single road, street, avenue, crescent, mews, lane, path, you get the idea, throughout the kingdom.

The usual moaning minnies have raised objections, chiefly the posties and dustbin men and others whose duties require them to navigate the various roads and streets. They – or at least their representatives – say that with every road called Owl Road they will get lost, lost, hopelessly lost, and be unable to perform their functions with due efficiency. To which the king says: “Pah!”

That is one of the great things about being the king. You can wave your begloved hand disdainfully and say “Pah!”, and none dare challenge you. The posties’ and dustbin men’s representatives made a little fuss, it is true, but once the king had glared at them and spat his contempt, they knew better than to persist. They returned to their depots like whipped curs, and held meetings where they told the posties and the dustbin men to get to work, starting on Owl Road.

“Don’t worry your little proletarian heads about becoming hopelessly lost,” they were told, “For how can you be lost when, wherever you are, you know you are on Owl Road?”

You see how the king looks after his subjects? In the New World Order, everybody knows exactly where they are, at every hour of the day and the night. And that is a very fine state of affairs indeed.

Written this day sitting on a municipal bench on Owl Road.