Saturday, 3 August 2013

Acting Archdruidical Elections

I'm pleased to announce the results of the election for Acting Archdruid. Obviously I regard this as a totally unnecessary and costly way of conducting democracy, when everybody just doing what I say would have been cheaper and more efficient, and also just as reliable. However, the Beaker Book of Rules says the election has to be held one month after the temporary appointment of an Acting Archdruid. It is important for the Beaker People to confirm the divinely-inspired executive decision of the Actual Archdruid.

Still, I'm relieved that I've been elected with 130% of the popular vote. This may look suspicious, but I can assure you that the greater than 100% majority is simply a mathematical thing you won't understand.

I'd like to congratulate my gallant opponent, Wulfsbane, for a bravely-fought if not actually suicidal campaign. And I'm sure Wulfsbane will be looking forward to working in a supportive way within the Beaker Community, just as soon as I've allowed him and his followers out of the Doily Shed. From the plaintive cries we've heard, I gather it's been a bit warm in there this week.


  1. What? A man was even allowed to stand in the election? I'm sure that wouldn't have happened in Eileen's time!

  2. I suspect that your electoral roll is loaded with people who are 250 years old and under one year old, just like a certain democracy in the news.

    And it's quite easy to fix the vote when you're the one counting them with no independent oversight or scrutiny. You've definitely inherited the Arch Druid's doings.

  3. And you could give lessons to the dictators (sorry - duly-elected leaders) of many fledgling democracies.....

  4. I have some bad news to report, chaps. As you know, Archdruid Eileen and myself received an anonymous gift of two Ryanair tickets, and decided to go dancing at Lughnasa - it beats all those boring British Lammastide celebrations like baking bread and leaving about the barn for the rats to get it.

    Unfortunately I got into a fight with Crom Cruach over the last flagon of poteen, and Eileen got Fosbury flopped backwards over the bonfire, landing on a large hound called Culain, and was badly bitten. That's about as much as I remember - but I daresay the full story will appear in the Annals of Ulster tomorrow.

    Anyway, I am writing this from Sligo District Hospital, and Charlii - perhaps you could address the large brown envelope that you promised, and send it on - pronto.


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