Outside the library window, two statues stand, figures of the civil war, a bronzed embodiment of 400 years of history, where they fought for the right of Parliament, or the right of The King.
The sun has gone in and is no longer glinting off their patinated forms. One looks West, the other East, both poised for action. Like they could come to life and fight.
Oh how I wish they would.
The Riace Bronzes...
Riace Bronzes wikilink
...which I always think of when I look at these two chaps, are amongst the most culturally significant pieces of statuary ever found. The notorious Italian porno-comic Sukia featured them coming to life and, ahem, "seeing to" the eponymous heroine and her male friend on a trans-Atlantic liner voyage. I don't want these fellows to do that (too much), but it's easy to imagine them coming to life, in a time and culture alien to them, and reacting with fear and violence.
Watch a 400 year old sword plunge into the jugular of the abusive drinkers who congregate at their feet, scraping grimily off their calcifying cervical vertebrae, while the drummer boys beats them unmercifully with his lead stick.
They could pause to take in the forever green landscape, before espying bike thieves making their way about town with bolt-cutters they are too brazen to hide. Their Civil War justice is swift, and merited as they arrange for them to be hung drawn and quartered, dragged screaming into four wriggling bloody pieces by teams of cyclists, the modern day cavalry of our confused world.
"Draw them men! Quarter them so they might feel it, but not too fast!" they cry, facial hair stirred by the winter breeze. The smackheads who deal as children learn to read next to them, are forced to do cold turkey on the bear baiting post, tattoed necks enclosed in a spiked iron collar.
The sun sets, and now the moon lights their metallic forms with a cold glow. Now, they head for the ale-houses, taverns and hostelries, and lo! Shall the unworthy face their mighty come-uppance! The brain dead drinkers offer them out for a fight, and shot by musket are some, while others are piked through their orifices and hoisted 16 feet into the air to fly like flags, a warning for all!
Pike them well, my Civil War friends, pike them hard! And never stop acting as you do, a 17th Century cure for modern day social ills!
Copyright Bloody Mulberry 20.12.13
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