The King's Speech

My dear friends, how sad it is that this great nation remains at war with itself but I am sure that in time this time of trouble will be the founding of an even greater nation. I am asked 'how goes the war?' and as I sit and write by my open window of this apartment overlooking such a beautiful quadrangle, hung as it is with the blossoming wisteria and sky lark playing up high, chasing the first big hatch of the Mayfly, it is hard to think for a moment that this is a nation at war. The sheep and lambs still graze, the bees still visit their clover and heather, rabbits and hares are a plenty and the trout stir from their winter spend in languid glides lying low and deep in the rivers and brooks, to rise once more and to taste such morsels as the stream brings unto their bellies. And so as the wildlife continues to make a joyous life so my armies continue to march. Of course the pamphleteers of London, in the pay of the warmongers of Parliament, would be happy to write that the King and his army are nearly defeated and clinging on as the citadel of Oxford is besieged, and whilst it is true that I am currently entertaining the Earl of Essex in my back garden there is no notion of defeat within this beautiful city, Oxford. In fact the truth is rather different, I have no need of propaganda, we are not defeated, we have barely begun to castrate the forces that Parliament would send against their King, country and be it known, god himself. For let there be no mistaking that god rides and protects his servant, the King. Of course the whole nation knows that my forces most ably lead, with great courage and devotion to duty to the god fearing peoples of this island, by Prince Rupert, Lord Byron and the Marquis of Newcastle, have defeated that troublesome Scottish manticore not once but twice. The sullen beast now defeated and with it's mangey tail between it's battle weary legs tries to find forage and comfort as it struggles limping for home. But it shall not rest until we be assured it will not return to England bearing arms. Just as god grants his mercy so we have done. My forces released 3,000 prisoners on parole of life never to bear arms against King again. And the woes of the Covenanter remains doubly so. My forces lead by the Marquis of Newcastle hold the city of Glasgow and Scotland rallies to our cause. Edinburgh may not be a safe haven for those that oppose the will of god. There should be no surprise that the entire north of England rallies to their King. Parliament may lay on its belly fattened by the profit of war but in the further reaches of this land their word is that of the liar, footpad and beggar and of one that wishes to be assassin to. My Nephew Maurice remains in total control of the South West of England where not a Roundhead has dare show for fear of loosing their, round head. Bristol remains firmly in our grasp even though Parliament came visiting and so you see there is little need for propaganda, the truth is before us. Parliament scrabbles hopelessly for a foot hold on a slippery slope that they can't hope to climb and they are much bruised by their futile efforts at wagging a war. I'm told they are dangerously over extended having put all they have in the field and if that is the best they can muster, then I suggest the traitors that have stood against their king and country, and moved soldiers and arms to do their wretched bidding, may wish to think where their sense of duty lies before it is too late for their remiss to go totally unnoticed. So, 'how goes the war?' Wait a while whilst I put the same to the sky lark, and my reply cometh within an instant, a happy tune it is to hear, and therein lies your answer. Charles Pro Aris et Focis

What the nation needs to know

Forget all this talk of politics,armies and battles it appears that the readers of the "Argus Panoptes" have one major issue on their minds. They want to know ,indeed are demanding to know, what has happened to Prince Rupert's pet poodle "Boy"? By now all the nation will have heard the news that the Prince himself suffered a serious wound at the Thirsk fight against the Scots, (rumours are reaching our northern reporter that the Prince himself is now recovered and keen to rejoin the fight), BUT as yet no word has been heard about the fate of the much loved "Boy". Many readers have voiced the opinion that the Pictish hordes may well have eaten him! We all know that these Celtic wildmen have some strange habits. The "Argus" on behalf of our readers demand a statement from the King's spokesman or the Prince himself concerning the fate of this much loved pooch!