Jim Hutchinson's Two Tomorrows The Happy Fox & Lady Belinda

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The Happy Fox

 frontispiece

Lady Francis Brookes, booted out of a despot's bed for daring to suggest Women should have the vote!

 

Lady Francis ‘Daisy’ Brookes

Daisy Brookes defied polite society and took up foxhunting.

Daisy’s "sporting" husband traded her carnal services for a regular shoot on the Sandringham estate.

King Edward 7th, better known as 'Dirty Bertie,' bedded all his cronies beddable wives. If he couldn't have the wife he wouldn't have the crony. Lady Daisy Brookes persuaded him to start the Prince Of Wales Hospital Trust for London's poor. Daisy's "social work" became too much for Dirty Bertie. When she declared her support for the Suffragettes and 'Votes For Women.' She was booted out of bed. Her place was still warm when Camilla's great-granny, Alice, hopped into the royal four poster.
 

Palace Whore circa 1890

Mrs. Alice Kepple

"Alice had the sexual morals of an alley cat."
Victoria Glendinning. Royal Mistresses - Alice and Camilla.  BBC2.

Growing old and ignobly belligerent King Edward 7th (Dirty Bertie) was a pain-in-the-neck to live with. His saintly Danish Queen, Alex, was grateful to Alice for keeping him occupied and out of her hair. When he died Alex gave Alice one of his diamond studded Cartier cigarette cases - as a keepsake. Alice also gets a mention (£50k) in the King's official will. His official will, of course, had nothing to do with the royals real fortune. The King inherited two centuries of clandestine profits from the Slave Trade, the Opium Trade and Crown controlled arm’s & ammo sales. How many millions (now billions) he left in Swiss, German & American banks is just a leaf on a tree in the endless forest of royal secrets... 



The Diana of the late 1930's Wallis & Edward by Tom Tierney.
King Edward 8th,  the present Queen's petulant uncle. Edward could easily have kept his American girlfriend, Mrs. Wallis Simpson, as his mistress. Rather than live the royal lie the Grumpy Greek lives with Snotty Liz and the grotesque Charles lived with Diana. He gave-up Crown and Throne to marry the women he loved. Four days after he abdicated Edward stumped-up at Schloss Enzesfeld, near Vienna, one of the palatial homes of Baron Eugene de Rothschild the royals principle off-shore banker. Edward's first priority was sorting-out his personal maze of foreign bank accounts from the royal family’s mega-maze. 

Wallis Simpson

Like our own, dear, Diana, Wallis became a wrongly maligned woman. Had Wallis been the manipulating bitch Buckingham Palace would have you believe. She would have made sure Edward stayed on the Throne, hanging in the back-ground, like the broomstick-riding-Camilla, waiting for time and tide to change public perceptions. Would she not? 
King Edward 8th gave-up the Civil List for love. His niece Princess Margaret gave up love for the Civil List. His grand nephew, the quintessential buffoon Prince Charles, has settled for a foxhunting fossil.  Few would sanction a "Queen Cammy." Least of all Queen Lizzy    

So. How Long Has The Monarchy Got?

_____________________________________

The Happy Fox


A Happy Fox enjoying Spring

preface

Millie Campbell was just 19. Five-foot-five, slim, brunette, brown eyes. She wore a thick brown polo neck Shetland sweater, faded jeans, Timberland boots. She was driving her mum's Cherokee Jeep. As she turned off the dual-carriageway onto the old coast road odd spots of lazy rain started hitting the windscreen. Heavy clouds rolling in from the sea promised a nasty winter storm. She was listening to the 5 pm News.
'Buckingham Palace,' said the newsreader, 'has just issued a statement denying allegations by an Argentine polo team captain, Pablo Florrides, who claims half his team slept with Charles and the other half slept with Camilla in the 1980's...' 
Millie turned the radio off. She had far better things to think of. Coming into view up the deserted road was the Sholtren Hotel. Originally a coastguard station built in the Napoleonic Wars. The granite turrets held the chilling air of a fortress. She parked in the empty cliff top car park opposite the hotel. A shiver ran down her spine as she locked the Jeep. In their kennels, somewhere behind the hotel, the Sholtren foxhounds were howling at the weather. Millie didn't mind the odd rumble of thunder. It was going behind enemy lines that was creeping her out.
The smell of the listless sea did nothing for her butterflies as she hurried across the road out of the cold. Entering the gloomy lobby she was greeted by a yapping Labrador pup. No one was manning the small reception desk.
The pup started chewing her boots. She picked him up. Snarling down from the wall was a huge tigers head.  The brass trophy plate hadn't been polished for years. She squinted to read.

              Indian Tiger. Nine Foot Six Inches.
            Shot by The Sixth Earl. Simla 1912. 

In an unlit alcove opposite the tigers head. Millie made-out the mounted head of a rhino. 'Good Jesus!' Are you safe living here?' She whispered to the pup.   

____________________________

The Happy Fox page 1

London - November 2009

Professor Murphy was reading the Guardian. 
                 
              EU To Ban Ban?
Prince Charles has refused to confirm or deny funding an appeal to the EU court's to overturn the foxhunting ban. Over the weekend police chiefs accused almost 200 illegal hunts of 'deliberately taking thousands of officers away from the war on terror.' Hampshire police spokesman Inspector Colin Mentworth-Jones accused Prince Charles of 'acting like a red rag to a bull.' Mentworth-Jones stated. 'The Countryside Alliance say foxhunters are law abiding people. When the truth is the opposite. Having to police illegal hunts now we have suicide squads in our midst is an insult to both police and public.' 
In Hampshire yesterday. Mr Ernest Fanshaw QC the huntsman organizing the EU appeal stated.
'I know of no royal involvement in our funding. However I can see why the "Fluffy Bunny Brigade" are up-set. Over two hundred hunts will defy the ban until the EU courts repeal the ban. No matter how long it takes.'  On Question Time last Friday the Republican columnist Claire Reynor posed the question. 'Who better to appeal to a gang of foreign judges to overrule the British Parliament than a stupefyingly selfish German Prince?' On the same program London Mayor Boris Johnson said he saw 'nothing wrong with the tradition of foxhunting.' Ex Labour Minister Claire Short stated. 'Hunting with dogs should have been banned in 1998 when 411 MP's voted to ban it and only 151 voted for it. Following that historic vote the taxpayer was made to pay £M12 for Parliamentary time wasted on spurious hunting debates. This time was wasted by the royals placemen in the Lords. The same placemen, who all went to school with Boris, are now openly encouraging illegal fox hunts when they know every police force is stretched to the limit. What we are seeing is the Establishment in their true colours. It is high time we stopped this nonsense by banning the "Mounted Loony Brigade" keeping packs of attack dogs.'
Writing in yesterday's Observer Tory MP Anne Widdecombe stated. 'Last week as it became clear six known terrorists had landed at Manston airport in Kent, fooled immigration and disappeared into the woodwork, we wasted two-thousand-hours policing illegal fox hunts. As one officer on hunt duty in Kent put it to me. "We are hardly likely to find any terrorists while we are stuck in the countryside playing nursemaid to gangs of Chas and Cammy wannabee’s, who complain they can't protect themselves from a handful of hunt saboteurs."
This dangerous waste of police time is part and parcel of Mr Blair's legacy of abominable lies. If Her Majesty's
Government wants to ban fox hunting they must first abolish the House of Lords as New Labour promised when they came to power in 1997.'
     Last week's illegal foxhunts led to violence in most counties. Forty-two huntsmen were taken into custody. One of those arrested, Otis Ferry, an Eton drop-out presently on bail on a drugs charge, claims he was knocked into a cesspit by a police Range Rover. Monitor's from the League Against Cruel Sports videoed the vehicle suddenly reversing for no apparent reason. In an unusual alliance the League are backing Mr Ferry's claim. Next week Labour MP Paul Flynn will present his Private Members Bill to ban the keeping of packs of hounds.       

Professor Murphy, a portly Dubliner, had always put foxhunters in the same box as those who hunt, molest and murder defenceless children. Above the clatter of the college cafeteria he could hear some of his cash-strapped students discussing the failing government. They were at the point where someone just has to say. 

'And what about that promise to ban foxhunting?

'Some promise.'

'They knew all along the landowners would just carry on as normal.'

Murphy took his coffee over to join the noisy bunch. Quietly, as was his way, he suggested. 'Instead of complaining. We could use a little asymmetric hacking to liven up the hunting debate.' He smiled. 'If you guys are up for it?' 
Murphy's up-and-at-um students were delighted with the idea.
That night. Julie Campbell, Maggie Richards, Emma Moore, Mike Fletcher, Simon Drover and Pete Shore, made their way to Murphy's local in Highgate. Over the Dublin Milkshakes, a drastic mix of Smirnoff & Baileys, Murphy recalled his 'much missed youth.' His first trip to London had been to enlist Spike Milligan's help to propose the Oxford Union motion. 
                    This House Believes Foxhunters
                         Should Replace Lab Rats

Julie & Millie Campbell had reached a similar opinion aged eleven. Their mother, Kath, managed a riding school. Kath had come to disagree with the hunt. The twin's however usually got their way when dad was at sea. They talked her into taking them on the Boxing Day hunt. 'Just this once.' Kath couldn't hide her smile as she watched the blooding ritual. In perfect unison her identical daughters vomited sausage & eggs all-over the Master's new outfit. The sister's had stayed with the hounds. They witnessed the screaming fox being ripped apart at close quarters. Day's later they announced their decision to dump the Girl Guides and join the junior troop of Herefordshire hunt saboteurs. The Wye Not's. Julie recalled their schoolgirl adventures kitted-out as army commando's, creeping up moonlit lanes, gleefully super-gluing Land Rover door locks while the adults pinched the wheels off horseboxes. As dawn broke they practiced the fine art of laying chemical trails ending in the river. Mike Fletcher, a freckled faced Wiltshire lad, had similar tales to tell. Working his school holidays at a hunt stables had convinced Mike the hunt had to go. All agreed with Mike's opinion. 'Hooting-tooting-loonies belong in rooms with mattress wallpaper.'
Murphy outlined his idea for a couple of websites to expose foxhunters to a wider audience than ever before. Over the following week the lads did the leg-work, finding busy late-night Internet cafés where hacking go's unnoticed. The girls contacted hunt saboteurs from Cumbria down to Cornwall to explain Murphy's idea for a public shaming.

By Friday the websites 'sxolsout' and 'theden7' were ticking over nicely-nicely. Both sites offered off-the-wall contributions on hunting & hunting folk. Dates, times and locations of every illegal hunt in Britain. Names, addresses & vehicle numbers of "celeb" hunt supporters and news of the latest arrests.

Friday night

Hacking from seven Wood Green Internet café's. The seven founder members of what became 'The Den' replaced the leading pages of seven popular websites with a one-minute video and fourteen full-screen photographs. For ten hours the following day. Everyone who screened-up British Airway's, American Airline's. BBC, ITV, Sainsbury's, M&S and Waitrose saw the Sholtren Hunt. Fourteen mounted hunters were shown on a glorious sunny morning punching the air and whooping delight as the Sholtren hounds ripped open a pregnant vixen and gobbled up her unborn cubs. The photographs carried the hunters names & addresses and a simple question.
                     Should This Continue A Moment Longer?  

Over half-a-million people went straight to the Den website. Most were asking how they could help the hunt saboteurs. The synchronized hack into seven supposedly secure sites made global headlines. Speaking from a lectern in the White House a Homeland Security specialist condemned asymmetric hacks into airline computers and food suppliers as.
'Terrorist in nature. And therefore terrorist attacks.' 
In Britain severe flood damage on the East coast could not stop purpose-starved bloody-mouthed-hounds remaining top story for five days. Pundits argued the values of righteous, or was it self-righteous hackers?

Police were called to control a crowd of Countryside Alliance supporters who arrived by the coach load at Channel 4's studios, where Richard & Judy were hosting an hour-long 'Special' on the increasingly violent antics of what Judy called 'posh yobs defying the fox-hunting-ban.'
Outside the studio an Alliance spokeswoman resembling a tweed-clad-tank complained to an ITN News reporter. 'The show has been loaded with Annie Widdecombe's bleedin, bleeding hearts.'
As the audience watched a video secretly made at a hunt kennels. Richard explained. 'These are the kind of people we can do without. As you can see, this is what happens when hounds slow down, this one, a perfectly healthy four-year-old is being shot in the head in front of the rest of the pack. This happens at least once a day somewhere in Britain. Dead dogs go to the knackers yard to be disassembled for the glue factory.' 
The show ended with Judy giving the result of a phone-in, in which 98% voted for a law to ban the keeping of packs of hounds. All hell let loose as the jubilant audience joined the jeering crowd on the street.
ITV camera's were recording a ranting bewhiskered foxhunter swearing at the police-line when he suffered a heart attack. Built like a barrel he sank to his knee's clutching his chest. Slowly, ever so slowly like a Russian doll, he rolled forward and smashed his little head open on the pavement. As the camera's zoomed-in, he twitched a little, gurgled something like 'mummy,' gasped and died. Live on the Six O\clock.

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