SPIN, until recently, dwelt among the landscapes of rural cottages and cobbled streets. Many were her friends and admirers: the daughters of farmers, the wives of tradesmen, the shepherdess and the schoolmistress. Grandmothers and cousins (on the distaff side) would while away the hours in her company, gently tapping their feet, always attendant to her yarns
Then, one day, marauders rode into town. These were cold-tempered men and women, ruthless plunderers who lived outside the law. Their arrival could only mean one thing. A sacrifice would be demanded, a life would be taken, or an innocent and respected figure would be snatched from their midst, to be dragged mercilessly away from loved ones and, no doubt, subjected to years of torment and torture.
Inscrutable outriders ordered everyone to gather in the market square for the customary announcement. One of the glib-tongued, grim-faced Spokes Men addressed the onlookers.
"The fact of the matter is," he began, "it's a big ask for hard-working families, but, going forward, in order to incentivise frontline services at this moment in time, we are introducing a package of measures that will go way beyond any previous paradigm shift in raising awareness."
Nobody in the crowd dared utter a word.
"Let me clear about this," he continued. "Any time soon, all the evidence tells us, we will have to step up to the plate to meet the challenge of a fairly unique sea change. The truth of the matter is that, without an ongoing year on year agenda, we can expect all the hallmarks of a perfect storm and the possibility of an inclusive epic fail."
Several listeners were nodding off. Guards gave them a curt heads up.
"So, we are rolling out an effective programme of initiatives for real people in the real world. And the key to this ongoing project is a fit-for-purpose game-changer."
He paused, for effect, gazing with intent at the beleaguered victim, who realised it was in her DNA and no longer would she be able to do what it said on the tin.
The deal was sealed, the naming and shaming actioned. The citizens dispersed, seeking the security of hearth and home.
Masked thugs marched Spin off to the tower, cackling at the success of their raid. The captive would be put to good use by the hard-hearted Guvver Munt, as the language looters were known - although they preferred to call each other Honour Bull Members, in acknowledgment of their worshipping the gods of Falsehood and Deception.
Yes, there would be much rejoicing for countless years to come in the assassins' impenetrable stronghold of West Mincer.
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