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Topic: Gunpowder, Treason and Plot...
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skdadl
rabble-rouser
Babbler # 478
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posted 04 November 2005 01:55 PM
An interesting reflection. It's true that these are celebrations of victor's justice (well, they are when anybody bothers to remember what is being commemorated). The Catholics and the Protestants had spent much of the previous century persecuting one another, and the Protestants finally won, which indeed meant that Catholic communities throughout the islands would remain historical victims for a long time to come, although religion is almost never enough on its own to explain the divisions among communities in Britain. Ireland was a much bigger problem than that, and the Scottish Jacobites by the end of the C17 were another problem again.Over a century after the Gunpowder Plot, though, Alexander Pope moved to Twickenham (then outside London) because, as a Catholic, he was still technically forbidden to live within a certain distance from Parliament. That law had mostly fallen into disuse by Pope's day, but as a thorn in the government's side, he knew it could be used against him at any time -- as it was, he was occasionally set upon and beaten by government thugs. One feels a slight chill on hearing that people have been observed burning Guys with backpacks or "stereotypical" beards.
From: gone | Registered: May 2001
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Crippled_Newsie
rabble-rouser
Babbler # 7024
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posted 04 November 2005 03:21 PM
quote: Originally posted by skdadl: He was probably a cuckold; Pope anticipated that kind of impotent envy:
[silly] a)Why DO cuckolds have horns, anyway? B) If you're nice to him, can you warm a cuckold's cockles? [/silly]
From: It's all about the thumpa thumpa. | Registered: Oct 2004
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skdadl
rabble-rouser
Babbler # 478
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posted 04 November 2005 03:28 PM
The greatest moment of cuckold-paranoia: quote: Gone already! Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd one! Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There have been, Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now; And many a man there is, even at this present, Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm, That little thinks she has been sluiced in's absence And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in't Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd, As mine, against their will. Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it, From east, west, north and south: be it concluded, No barricado for a belly; know't; It will let in and out the enemy With bag and baggage: many thousand on's Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy!The Winter's Tale, I.ii
From: gone | Registered: May 2001
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Contrarian
rabble-rouser
Babbler # 6477
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posted 06 November 2005 12:34 AM
More about Gunpowder Treason Day with links and stuff. quote: Remember, remember the fifth of November, Gunpowder, treason and plot, I see no reason why gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot.
And, for the foodies, one of his links leads here to Wiki: quote: ...In Britain there are several other traditions that accompany Guy Fawkes/Bonfire night; The eating of bonfire toffee; a dark type of toffee made with black treacle, Parkin, a cake made with the same black treacle, toffee apples, the traditional 'apple lollipop', which consists of an apple coated in toffee on top of a stick, and baked potatoes which are traditionally wrapped in foil and cooked in the bonfire...
From: pretty far west | Registered: Jul 2004
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aRoused
rabble-rouser
Babbler # 1962
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posted 06 November 2005 09:00 AM
reedit: Sorry skdadl, after the Best. Fireworks. Ever, my night went seriously downhill. I'll try and recapture the early evening.I've seen fireworks. Canada Day, La Saint-Jean, even a vague childhood memory of a July 4th in Boston. These blew my jaded little 31-year-old mind. Remember that on Bonfire night *everyone* is letting off fireworks in their backyards. Passing through Gateshead *last* weekend looked like an air raid played in reverse, with rockets streaming upwards as people just couldn't wait for the actual bonfire night to let a few bangers off. There were 'works that exploded into flower shapes, with a cup of green stars 'holding' a red, blue or yellow center, there were 'works that exploded and then the stars would go off in secondary explosions (seen that before), but there were others where the secondary explosion just launched the star in a radically different direction, producing an effect like a swarm of bees or fireflies. There were 'works exploding into identical bursts, but with each subsequent one just that little bit bigger and little bit louder, passing the point where you think 'they can't do anything bigger than *that* (BOOM) Oh, they can! Amazing. The launch location was kept secret, possibly to keep people from swarming it. We heard from a source that the location was St.Peter's school in York, one of those bastions of upper-class privilege, so we set ourselves up on the opposite bank of the Ouse, where we could see the illuminated Minster in the distance. I'd forgotten about the burning of effigies. We didn't attend an actual bonfire, just went out for dinner and the pub afterwards. One of our number did make an ironic joke about the real origin of the festivities after the fireworks show--put some generally left-leaning archaeologists, historians and medievalists in a room and that's what you'll get I suppose.. [ 06 November 2005: Message edited by: aRoused ]
From: The King's Royal Burgh of Eoforwich | Registered: Dec 2001
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