- And The Riders From Rostov
(with apologies to David Bowie). After that incredibly amusing parody headline, I now have licence to put up a picture of the real thing. Art!
I refer, of course - obviously! - to late breaking events in Ruffia, where Priggy has called off his 'March on Moscow', thanks to promises of as much ginger jam and sauerkraut he can eat, possibly. We are not going to find out the truth for a long time, if ever, so you can't deny my culinary speculation.
As others who are smarter and better informed than I have pointed out, the whole thing has been spectacularly bad for The Pest In The Bulletproof Vest, even if he came out of it epidermis intact.
"Why is that so, O Aged And Splenetic One?" I hear you ask, and, pausing only to reassure you that my spleen is in splendid form, I shall elucidate.
NUMBERS: Priggy, the naughty chap, was not telling the truth about having 25,000 men in his convoy. Prof Mark Galleotti, wise and knowing pundit about all things Ruffian, calculated that Wagner may have 25,000 personnel globally, but assessed the MoM mob as more like 10,000. That's not a lot to stage an armed rebellion with -
However - and you knew that word was coming - there were hardly any formed bodies of troops to face them. Most of the Ruffian army is in Ukraine, fighting, and simply cannot be withdrawn to defend Putin's tender hide.
Not only that, a considerable number of Ruffian border guards and internal security troops openly sided with and joined the MoM. Art!
Prof Galeotti. I mean, it can't be Priggy, can it? Too much hair.
SYMPATHY: The MoM were greeted with caution initially when they took over Rostov-on-Don, which later changed to locals getting selfies with the Wagner troops, and ended in riotous applause when they moved out. People liked Priggy and his men, even if he was a mutineering back-stabbing traitor. This will enrage Bloaty Gas Tout so much he may die of a stroke. This, Dimya, is what happens when an occupying force does not rob, rape, torture or murder the locals. Note that the MoM got within 200 kilometres of Moscow without having to fight any ground troops.
'FLAVUM PULLUM' SYNDROME*: There was no pretence at bravery or defiance from Puffy Petrol Pimp, he got out of Moscow for Saint Petersburg quick smart and is currently probably still hiding at an unknown location. That's not all; lots of private jets suddenly left Moscow for Turkey or other unknown destinations, as the oligarchs sought to save skin and silver. They obviously did not trust either Putin or the security forces to successfully defend Moscow. Art!
TIMING: As already mentioned, Ruffian troops in Ukraine are desperately trying to fend off Ukrainian attacks and cannot be recalled to defend Granny Ruffia, which Priggy knew full well. He chose to make his move on Friday night, when up to 40% of the Ruffian security forces were incapable thanks to being drunk off their bottoms. This is a useful tip bound to be noticed by anyone else plotting a coup.
BLAMING THE COURTIERS NOT THE KING: This goes back to medieval times at the very latest, when the King's person and reputation were sacrosanct and to attack him directly, either literally or metaphorically, was a one-way trip to The Royal Executioner. So, those who plotted against the King asserted that they were loyal patriots who revered the King; no, they had it in for the wicked, venal, corrupt, lying, thieving, deceiving courtiers who kept the King woefully misinformed. Perfidious Albion played this game with the 'Soldatensender' in the Second Unpleasantness. Art!
Priggy has been very careful in not criticising Putin directly, instead going for Shoigu and Gerasimov.
WITH A WHIMPER NOT A BANG: Recall, if you will, the Kremlin Gremlin ranting on about Priggy being a traitor and mutineer and a back-stabber, who probably passes the port to the right, too. Ooooh, you could taste the bile on Tsar Putin's breath as he yarked on, visions of disembowelling Priggy with a blunt spoon swirling in his mind -
- and then it's all over and Priggy can go live unencumbered in Belarus, The End. Wait, what? An armed rebellion gets to within 200 kilometres of the capital, the internet is locked down, Rosgvardia are manning trenches and machine-gun positions, politicians flee - and then it's all back to normal. Blunt spoon goes back into cutlery drawer.
Putin looked what he has tried to avoid resembling at all costs, even if it means 2,000,000 dead in Ukraine: weak. Weakness invites challengers. Weakness tarnishes his image. Weakness begets contempt.
Ah! I begin to see - it's not just bulletproof, it's also stab proof.
Another commenter on Quora called this Act One of a three-act play. I guess we'll have to wait and see whether it's a farce or a tragedy.
"Sortilege"
Thanks for that Word Popping Up At Random, Steve. Your Humble Scribe had no idea what it was, so let us have recourse to the Collins Concise. "The act or practice of divination by drawing lots."
Erk! Thank heavens I was wearing my armoured underwear and the Coincidence Hydra has blunted fangs, because what features heavily in "The Man In The High Castle"? Why, the 'I Ching', which is a system of divination. Perhaps old PKD mentioned 'sortilege' in the text somewhere?
I was impressed when one of his characters mentioned that the Axis capture of Malta had led to the collapse of the British (and Commonwealth) position in the Mediterranean, because that's exactly what would have happened if Malta fell. Art!
The Santa Marija convoy arrives in Valetta.
It very nearly didn't.
If you want to know how perilous the island's position was, go Google OPERATION PEDESTAL.
"City In The Sky"
Things are about to go badly awry 'Downstairs', whilst Davy is on watch in the Communications Suite aboard Arcology One.
A small, rapidly-flashing red light caught
his attention. Screen Seventeen. “Terrestrial Launch Indication”. The light usually flashed on a regular basis
once per fortnight, when the Black Knight took off from
- hang on, the reference given as latitude and longitude wasn’t one he
was familiar with.
“Terrestrial Launch Indication”
“Terrestrial Launch Indication”
“Terrestrial Launch Indication”
He brought up an atlas reference screen,
input the numbers and waited for three seconds until the application brought up
a named location: Natanz, People’s Free Secular Republic of Iran.
Frowning, he tried to remember where he’d heard the name before. Putting it in the database search brought up
sufficient detail for the skin beneath his plastic coveralls to prickle with
worry: Natanz; primary nuclear research
and development centre for the Iranian military dictatorship, surmised to be
working on ballistic missile technology –
This was undoubtedly the most exciting –
and the most worrying – thing to have ever happened whilst he sat on
communication watch. Normally he got
this quiet graveyard shift because nothing ever happened, and because he wasn’t
old enough, skilled enough, or trusted enough to be allowed any Infrastructure
chores.
Before he could do anything further, the software scanner went
wild. A stream of transliterated text
ran across Screen Six, first in Hebrew, then in English.
“Emergency system broadcast, Tel Aviv, emergency system broadcast,
Tel Aviv. This is not a simulation. I
repeat, this is not a simulation.
Goldshot, Goldshot, Goldshot. All
listeners able to hear this broadcast please proceed without delay to the
nearest secure shelter or the secure room within your house. Ballistic missiles with a terminal trajectory
falling within the city limits of Tel Aviv have been detected being launched
from
Don't forget, Bonetti predicted a 'Little Crash' before the real thing arrived.
I Have Not Seen This Before But It Made Me Smile
Art!
I hope you are familiar with Diamond Dave. The WBC are a group who deliberately protest offensively in order that they provoke their targets into assaulting them, whom then get sued. Anyone poking fun at them gets my seal of approval.
Diamond Dave for Prez!
Finally -
I shall be making my Sunday Stew later on, so I shall be strolling down into Lesser Sodom to see what remaindered goodies the Co-Op has. Including gin.
* Latin for 'Yellow Chicken'
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