It was agreed that, in return for the Royalists/BUF guaranteeing the neutrality and independence of Mortimer Country and for assisting us in defending against Red aggression, we would supply them with any surplus foodstuffs.
Despite the untimely demise of Straitt-Jacket, this agreement has held firm, with the Royalists duly taking the fight to the Commies. Ties were slightly strained when a section of Royalist sailors descended on the Mortimer Brewery with the intent of drinking it dry, but they were gently 'called time' by the Hereford Hunt Hussars, backed up by an armoured car (kept back in case of treachery and in no way bogged down in front of the Brewery).
Thus reinforced, I was able to look on from my vantage point at Wigmore Hall as the new alliance comfortably knocked the Reds for six. These godless rebels had already proved themselves incapable of defeating my forces in the area, despite outnumbering them three-to-one. Indeed their only accomplishment was the burning of the cricket pavilion; a building that can easily be repaired. The commander of 'Pavilion Force' will be suitably promoted for his gallant defence and courageous counterattack.
I gather from my friends defending my transmitter station that Radio Free Mortimer remains on the air after blunting a thrust from the Anglican League. In doing so they also kept them out of the grounds of Wigmore Hall and will also be duly rewarded.
The Hall never was never really threatened and so my staff were rarely troubled (much to the disappointment of the mortar crew) as the police and BUF took the brunt of the fighting on the approach road. The Chief Inspector will receive a glowing report from me and I daresay commendations will be in order.
We were able to rescue all of the livestock from the Brewery locale, but alas I'm led to believe that returns were low from the Transmitter. I have yet to learn the livestock returns from the Pavilion end.
So have I got into bed with the Royalists and BUF? Perhaps so. I would never side with the Reds. As for the Anglicans, whilst perhaps in pursuit of a noble cause, they have yet to approach me with a suitable offer. However, the door is not yet closed and my niece is still in search of a spouse..."
"Yes." Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart returned the Bishop's goggle-eyed stare. "I'm afraid that the Shropshire Swain is overdue a stern talking-to, Bishop. Unlucky in love, unlucky on the battlefield, trailed coats and garden paths, that kind of thing."
"Well, I take everything back, Colonel. My profound apologies. This kind of intelligence could not be more current. Agent Orange?"
"One of Patchpole KC's staff, sir. I'd rather not say who."
|Sir Barrington's Personal Household Staff. Who could be "Agent Orange" ?|
"Of course. I quite understand." The Bishop tapped his nose. "Need to know and all that."
"Quite." The Colonel produced yet another manilla folder, on this occasion marked "Government Propaganda Broadcasts - MOST RECENT - PS - PERSONAL FOR BIG X - Do we really have to transcribe this guff ?", and started reading:
The Colonel closed the folder with a snap. "Not a word about Mustard's memoirs. No attempt as yet to prepare the people for what's bound to come. It looks like the Government and Patchpole have completedly under-estimated the long term effects of their alliance, Your Grace."