All In A Day's Work

It is hard work being a prophet. No one listens to you and you are driven onto the fringes of society. The world is never ready for genius. You are not stoned to death or sawn in half nowadays but you often wonder whether such a gloriously public death would not actually interest people in investigating what your prophecy is and why everyone is so afraid of it.

One of the few consolations of being so out of step with the rest of the world is that there are many other examples of prophets driven into fringe professions whose words have ultimately proven true. In many cases no one even knows their names. Nor do they receive any recognition for their work. But their satisfaction lies in being shown to be correct and therefore becoming mainstream. Every dog has its day and every prophet has their lifetime even if it is not their own.

One of the few female prophets whose name we know is Mrs. Gertrude Swineherd. This lady followed the stereotypical profession of domestic cook. Her family was very fond of cooked meat and the traditional British Sunday roast was obligatory in her home. Over the centuries several other items have been served as complements to the different types of meat involved in the Sunday roast. Mint sauce, apple sauce, breadcrumbs and gravy all have their fans and another such item is stuffing. This concoction of parsley, sage, suet and anyonesguess is forced inside the unwilling carcases of the animals whilst they are still alive to ensure a mature flavour and then cooked inside them after their slaughter and packaging. This practice has only ever been tolerated because the packaging itself is made out of a polished and distilled film of the stomach lining of the animals in question. Nevertheless it has become popular and the quality of stuffing is now considered just as important as the quality of the meat. Of course in Mrs. Swineherd's day everyone made their own stuffing. But as competition amongst the cooks in grand houses became more intense demand grew for a top quality stuffing available in the same form for all cooks which would enhance the quality of any meal.

In truth Mrs. Swineherd's stuffing was not any more distinguished than any other. Nevertheless she was prevailed upon by her sycophantic and gender betraying husband to mass produce her recipe. This in itself was nothing remarkable. The genius of Mrs. Swineherd was revealed in the name she gave to her creation. For no obvious reason she called it Paxo. Etymologists have ever since tried to work out what possible connection there can be between the product and its name. Indeed the general public were equally confused to begin with until the etymologists started making statements about it and they realised that the term "paxo" was more understandable than the word "etymologist". Over the course of years Paxo became the biggest selling stuffing in existence. People appreciated the fact that it was always there for them. It was sold in stores where the preponderance of dusty boxes gave people ticklish coughs. When they approached the storekeepers for assistance they would have to clear their throats. In doing so they made the sound "paxo" and were automatically directed to this item which they could then ask for and use on a regular basis to cover their embarassment.

Still the debate raged. Why was the product called "Paxo"? Various smug explanations appeared to the universal disinterest of the Paxo buying public. It was stated that it had something to do with packing it inside the animals. It was stated that it was a combination of the initial letters of some of the secret ingredients. It was said that it was simply the first name Mrs. Swineherd thought of apart from her own. Mrs. Swineherd maintained total silence on the subject. Indeed she could not do otherwise as she had died of ergonomic dysfunction three years after its introduction leaving the fortune it made to the unqualified doctor who diagnosed and treated her disease.

Then in the late 1970s a strange phenomenon swept British society. A very rough interviewer started presenting programmes on the BBC. During his set autocue routines he appeared charming and rather lost. When he had a politician to interview however it became a different matter. He would ask very direct questions which the BBC had never allowed before and created anger and revulsion amongst his interviewees who were not used to this sort of treatment. Ever since he has been a mainstay of television journalism and his interviews have become an institution. Previous interviewers have been known by their names. He however is known by a nickname. He is universally referred to not as Jeremy Paxman but Paxo. This unique practice has come about for a very good reason. The prophecy of Mrs. Swineherd is unconsciously being fulfilled.

Most politicians have an experience of being stuffed by Paxo. When asked to describe their ordeal they do so in visceral terms. It is as if they have been physically assaulted and had his questions rammed inside them causing them great pain and discomfort and forcing their blood to drain away. In many cases they are cooked soon after. Their careers never recover from a public Paxo stuffing. Unable to stand the heat of aggressive interviewing they resign their ministerial posts and leave parliament with a whimper. Noble animals that once thought themselves kings of the fields suffer the same fate. Finally we can understand how they feel. The term Paxo now has a meaning we can all understand. A meaning which was beyond the comprehension of anyone until the prophecy of Mrs. Swineherd decreed that there would one day be a human equivalent of the stuff she was making which would manifest its true nature.

Of course Paxo is not his questions. The hoover is not Mr. Hoover either but the two have become synonymous. This does not happen often enough to be predictable by anyone other than prophets. Mrs. Swineherd should be doubly celebrated and my fellow prophets do indeed uphold the quality of her vision. So why is she not better known? Because those in the mainstream always claim the credit. The BBC claims that it invented Paxo itself and is currently involved in a court case against the stuffing makers claiming breach of a future copyright. Paxo himself is regarded as BBC property and indeed has the logo stamped on the back of his neck and an editing chip in his upper lip. The BBC may not publicly stone people to death but it has other ways of silencing people. David Icke was once promoted as a prophet. When his Son of God rantings were making headlines he was working for the BBC. Clearly this was an attempt to wash all independent prophets away by replacing their ideas with the superior thought of one of their own. The BBC dropped him just as soon when his crackpot nonsense was exposed as nothing more than that and the tactic backfired woefully.

Prophets are happy to eat Paxo without prejudice. We do not need power to be right. Indeed a case could be made for saying there is a fundamental contradiction between these two things. Why do you need to take charge of the truth? The story of Paxo demonstrates how much better off we would all be if we allowed the truth to run us for a change. Why do you think the upper classes shoot animals but not stuffing? Like all Creation they cannot live without the truth and neither can the world exist without the prophets who guard its every worthwhile element.