With Apologies To George Orwell
“If we kill the squire who will take his place?” asked Martha the housemaid.
“No one. We will run the house and the estate collectively, everything will be held in common. “from each according to his ability to each according to his needs”, said Stan the gardener.
“Oh Stan you are clever” Martha said her pretty yet vacant blue eyes shining with the light of infatuation for the handsome gardener. “But who will pay us Stan? How will I get the money to buy nice clothes?”
“Lumpen proletariat” muttered Stan.
“Pardon Stan?”
“Nothing Martha, I was just clearing my throat. When the revolution comes the village will follow our example, then the nearby towns. Today our little estate, tomorrow the world”.
Ian the under gardener guffawed. “I think someone else said something similar Stan”.
“Capitalist running dog, just wait until the revolution comes and you will be laughing on the other side of your bovine face” Stan thought, inwardly seething with anger.
“But the squire’s not a bad old stick. He always gives us a Christmas hamper and he was so kind when I had my miscarriage”, remarked Lisa the housekeeper.
“Its nothing personal. I have no beef with the squire, as the squire but you have to understand it’s what he, as a representative of the ruling class stands for. He stands for the oppression of the working man (sorry working people). The kindly ones are the worst because they stave off the revolution through a little charity here and a minor act of compassion there. What does it cost the squire to provide a Christmas hamper? Next to nothing. He’s rolling in money not just from the estate but all those shares in African diamond and gold mining. The sweat of the workers keeps this beautiful house afloat”.
“And us in jobs” muttered the under gardener”.
“Capitalist lackey, just you wait” Stan thought.
“When the revolution happens will I still be able to go shopping in Oxford Street and spend my wages on the latest fashions?” Martha asked fingering the necklace which she had saved so hard to buy.
“Look, Martha there are millions starving in Africa, children are being exploited in the sweat shops of Bangladesh and all you care about is whether you will still be able to buy tat which is sold at far above the cost of production. The surplus value of the labourer is expropriated by the Capitalist class who get fat while we, the workers starve” Stan said helping himself to another chocolate digestive.
“You will always have those who rule and those who obey and I’d rather be ruled by squire Thomas than others I could mention” remarked the under gardener stirring pointedly in Stan’s direction.
With one bound Stan was on Ian. A blade flashed followed by a horrible gurgling sound. Ian thrashed for a moment then lay still. The girls stirred in horror.
“What have you done, oh god what have you done?” Lisa moaned.
Martha tried to speak but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she could only croak incoherently.
“Stay here. I’m going to finish it now” Stan said. He strode out of the room locking the door behind him.
—
The squire looked up as the study door opened. He looked over the top of his spectacles (they where next to useless) his short sighted eyes attempting to focus on his visitor.
“Oh Stanley it’s you. What can I do for you? Please take a seat, can I offer you a chocolate. I don’t really like them but they where a present from little Jenny, my granddaughter”.
Stan looked into the benign face of his employer and for a second felt a twinge of conscience. He collected himself
“It’s nothing personal sir (all his Marxist studies haden’t eradicated the deference he showed when speaking to his employer). you are, in many ways the best of a bad bunch but, for the good of humanity I am afraid you must be sacrificed. I’m sorry”. Stan brought the knife which he had been concealing behind his back round in a sweeping ark plunging it into the squire’s throat.
—
“I said two sugars Martha, can’t you get anything right?” Stan said glaring at her from behind his former employer’s Queen Ann desk.
“I’m sorry Stan” Martha said biting her lip to prevent her tears from falling. “Squire never used to shout at me like that. He was always kind but, I know you must be under a lot of pressure running the estate”.
“We all run the estate” Stan said helping himself to one of the squire’s fine cigars. “Is dinner nearly ready?”
“Yes Lisa is cooking your favourite, roast venison”.
“Good I’ll have it in here”.
“Aren’t you going to join us?”
“No, you and Lisa eat yours in the kitchen. I need peace and quiet to concentrate and I can’t do that with” (he was going to say servants but, checking himself) said “my fellow workers chatting about trivia”.
“Yes squire. Sorry I mean comrade” Martha said closing the door behind her.
