Omega (4) Beta didn't answer, but instead waved her arms and shouted. "Tudor! Over here! Tudor!" I looked through the window to see what this mouse might be like, but I didn't expect to see one standing upright nearly five foot tall, wearing a smart blue jerkin, red codpiece and stockings with a ruff round his neck just below the muzzle. He was bareheaded with whiskers proudly displayed, bright eyes prominent in grey-brown fur and large flat ears twitching with a life of their own. He waved a gloved paw at Beta and strode towards us in red boots while his other paw supported a sheathed sword secured to his waist. "Beta!" he cried. "'Tis thou! How dost? Art alone?" "No, I'm with Bacon. We're off to Baldam. Come and share the carriage with us!" Beta pulled her head in through the window to enable Tudor to open the compartment door. "Verily shalt I!" Tudor said resolutely, as he pulled himself in. "'Tis most happy and meet that I should so encounter ye!" He nodded at Bacon and me, and removed his belt and sword which he placed on the luggage rack above my head. He then sat next to me facing Bacon, his long scaly tail winding around behind him and falling discreetly onto the compartment floor. He crossed his short legs, his boots reaching nearly up to his knee. "Good morrow, sire," he addressed me. "Art also bound for Baldam?" "No," answered Bacon on my behalf. "He's not one of our party at all." "I come from the Suburbs," I explained. "The Suburbs!" mused the mouse flicking his tail slightly. "'Tis a borough to which I have never been. Art many such as I there?" "No, not at all," I answered honestly. "I've never seen anyone like you in the Suburbs." "'Tis pity," he sighed. "Thou know'st me not. I am hight Tudor as Beta hath told thee and I abide in mine estate many a league distant from here." He looked up at Beta and Bacon. "'Tis rare I should venture so far afield, but I have affairs to attend in Rattesthwaite. Dost thou know't?" "It's further down the line," remarked the boy. "'Tis so," Tudor acknowledged. The train shunted forward and back unbalancing the mouse and forcing him to grip my arm with his sharp claws to avoid falling to the floor. The train hooted and a cloud of sooty dust floated past the window. It then puffed off. The mouse clung painfully to my arm as the platform receded. While the train was moving, I observed a large hoarding featuring two hands held together. Better Together! it read ambiguously. I bent my head around to watch it go by and caught a glimpse of green writing at the foot of the poster, featuring a person's name and a green cross in a box. "It's not long till the General Election's, is it?" commented Beta noting the poster. "General Election?" I wondered. "Is there one due soon?" "Where have you been?" sneered Bacon. "Of course there is! Perhaps the most important one this country's ever known!" "I just didn't know about it," I admitted. It can't have seemed so important in the apolitical Suburbs. "Which parties are contesting it?" "Oh! The usual six," commented Beta putting up one hand of outspread fingers and a thumb. She then withdrew all but her index finger. "There's the Red Party. They're the left wing party." "Bloody communists!" snorted Bacon. "Luddites! They'll have us all living like peasants." Tudor snorted equally disdainfully. "'Sblood! 'Twill be but the rule of the mobus populis. 'Twould be a disaster unpareil an 'twere they the government." Beta raised a second finger. "Then there's the Blue Party. They're the right wing party. That's the one Bacon supports, I think." "Dashed right I will!" "Then there's the Green Party. They're the ones I quite like. They're the party of the Countryside, tradition and environment." Beta now had three fingers standing, and then before her brother could comment on her choice, she hurried on by raising a fourth finger. "Then the Black Party. I think Bacon's got some sympathy for them, but even he doesn't like the militaristic aspect of the party or their dislike for foreigners." She raised her thumb. "The Illicit Party, which is quite a new one, and I'm not sure what they're about. And finally," she raised the thumb of her other hand, "there's the White Party and I don't know what they represent at all either." "I don't think even they do!" scoffed Bacon. He smiled at me. "Perhaps you do. I read somewhere that they always do well in the Suburbs." "Yes they do," I agreed, but I couldn't answer what they represented. They always appeared to win local elections by fighting for such local issues as clearer markings on public highways, more books in the public library and more flower shows. Their candidates always seemed frightfully nice and when they spoke it was hard to identify any policy they advocated that one could actively oppose. "But what's so very important about this General Election?" "I thought this kind of gross ignorance was confined to the Country," said Bacon disparagingly. "It's to break up the Coition Government that's been running this country - badly! - for as long as anyone can remember. They've changed the constitution such that whichever party wins will become the sole government and not have to work with all the other parties." "How are they doing that?" I wondered. "It's terribly complicated," Beta continued. "Something to do with how the votes will be transferred. But as a result they hope that it will resolve the mess the government's got into - you know, with never being able to make a decision without it being vetoed by some minority interest in the Coition." "What sort of mess is the government in?" "Perhaps it just doesn't affect people in the Suburbs," Bacon commented. "But everywhere else things have just drifted aimlessly for years. There's virtually no central government at all. Everything is decided at a local level and in the meantime there's a ridiculous budget deficit, foreign policy is totally ineffectual, the taxation system is creaking at the seams and not one part of the country fits well with any other part. In one part of the country the roads are metalled and well-signposted, but as soon as your car enters another borough, the dual carriageway abruptly becomes a pot-holed dirt-track. In some districts the cars even drive on different sides of the road. The gauge on the railways are all different, so that you can't travel any distance by train without having to change. And the cost of things just varies ridiculously from one place to another." "I'sooth!" agreed Tudor. "'Tis great need for more consistency in the nation. 'Tis all chaos and confusion." "Who do you think will form the next government?" I asked. "Nobody knows!" exclaimed Beta. "Past results are just no guide apparently. I'd like it to be the Green Party, but there's probably not enough support for them in the City or the Suburbs." "I pledge my support for the Blue Party," Tudor said, twitching his whiskers agitatedly. "But in truth there is but little in them that I love. I have sympathies for the Black Party, but they too are unlikely to triumph. 'Twill not be an ideal result for me, I fear." "I've also got sympathies with the Blacks," Bacon confessed, "but I fear they aren't sufficiently committed to Progress or the Modern World. However, they are more honest than the Blue Party and if they were in power they'd definitely get things moving! I too would like to see a final solution to the Cat problem, end all these damaging industrial disputes and make the nation strong again. Nevertheless, informed opinion says that it will be a fight between the Red, Blue and White Parties and I know which of those I prefer!" The train came to another halt at a platform equally as remote as the one before. In the commotion of arrival, conversation came to a halt and Beta once again took the opportunity to pull down the window and stick her head and shoulders out through it. I also peered out and saw a Cat about the same size as Tudor sitting on his rear on a platform bench beside another poster for the Green Party. Like Tudor, he was fully clothed with only his head and front paws showing. He was reading a newspaper and wore looser clothes than Tudor, but nonetheless quite colourful ones. They were a blend of black, gold, green and blue, with trousers that reached to his knees below which he wore white stockings and buckled shoes. His jerkin was decorated by a flamboyant lace frill around the neck, and like Tudor he carried a sword attached to a belt round his waist. Beside him and lying on the bench was a large broad-brimmed hat with a magnificent feather sprouting from it. He didn't appear at all interested in our train and must presumably have been waiting for another one. "That's another sight you don't often see in the Suburbs," I commented absently. "Cats like that are just not common at all." "If only 'twere the same everywhere!" Sighed Tudor. "Wouldst 'twere fewer Cats altogether. Sooth, I am content he hath no wish to embark." The train didn't stop for very long, and soon chuffed off leaving the feline beneath the station clock. "I detest Cats!" Hissed Tudor. "Throughout history they have been a great enemy to mine people. It matters not which continent nor island Mice have settled, Cats have ever pursued us mercilessly and caused great grief. I trow 'tis but for jest they do molest us. They kill us for their sport as we might kill flies. And still now they pursue us: disinheriting and enslaving us." He looked at me, his whiskers twitching agitatedly and his tail flicking up and down with a ponderous rhythm. "Ere now, in the historic land of Mice, we art under the occupation of the illegitimate Kingdom of Cats. A Kingdom recognised by many nations but intent only on the supremacy of the Feline scourge. In mine historic home there be Cats where once Mice stood tall. 'Tis said 'tis but fair recompense for many centuries of Feline persecution, but 'tis verily unjust that now 'tis Mice who art scattered like pollen on the wind throughout the world. 'Tis now my kind who art the servile class in many a land, bereft of an ancestral home or spiritual centre." "Have you personally been dispossessed?" I wondered. "Ay, spiritually!" Sighed Tudor. "In my heart and soul I too have been dispossessed, but - thanks be to the Lord! - not in mine means. Mice have been in this land for many centuries. Mice who have struggled hard against injustice and prejudice. And to them I owest my wealth and repute." He rested a paw on his sword which I was afraid he might choose to unsheathe. "'Tis the Cats I hate. 'Tis they who have raped Mice of their land and forced subservience to their pagan ways. 'Twere best that Cats wert dealt with as they deserve. E'en here - far from the timeless struggle 'twixt Mouse and Cat - there be cause to hate Cats who bring misery and grief by their ruthless exploitation of the wealth and riches of this land. 'Tis they more than any other who have brought things in this land to such a sorry state - and any support I hath for the Black Party ist in recognition of their fine words in this crusade." It wasn't long until the train came to another stop where the name of Rattesthwaite was clearly visible on the station platform. Tudor preened his whiskers with the claws of an ungloved paw. When the train finally ceased to shudder, he eased himself off the seat allowing his long tail to unravel behind him and fastened his belt and sword to his waist. Then he bade us all farewell as he got off the train. "It probably wasn't such a good idea to mention Cats with Tudor here!" Smiled Beta as the Mouse hastened towards the ticket barrier brandishing a cardboard ticket where a goat was collecting them. "It's a subject that's bound to get him steamed up!" "But essentially Tudor's right!" Butted in Bacon. "Cats have caused considerable misery to Mice. It's a historic and unending conflict. And the Black Party is also right. The world would be a better place without Cats!" "I just don't think that's true at all," Beta argued. "How can anyone believe that Cats as individuals deserve to be treated any differently from anyone else?" "But they are different and they'd be the first to say so! They are an alien species who work only for their own individual benefit or the benefit of their kind in collusion with international capitalism to appropriate the wealth of the land and claim it as their own. I mean, have you ever come across a poor Cat?" "Well, no! But it doesn't follow that all Cats are bad and I'm sure there are plenty that aren't particularly well-off." "Essentially Cats despise everyone else. They ingratiate themselves on people with their purring and apparent affectionateness, but all they're concerned about is their own interests. And what they do is siphon the wealth of nations from where the Feline Diaspora has taken them and send it back to the Cat Kingdom." "Even if that were true," argued Beta passionately, "it doesn't mean that Cats have to be locked in concentration camps, robbed of their wealth or methodically slaughtered as the Black Party propose." "That's only the view of a minority in the Black Party," disagreed Bacon. "The main source of misgiving is the Cat Kingdom itself. Ever since it was formed by the international community in the so-called historic homeland of the Cats - which so inconveniently overlaps the ancestral homeland of both Mice and Dogs - it's been nothing but a blight on this planet. Always having wars, always taking territory from other species in its own interest and creaming off the wealth of countries such as ours."
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