Groups of outraged do-gooders, led by PC Prof Lou Nileffti, have denounced the term ‘Black Death’, preferring Awful Illness Causing Suffering, or AICS for short. Others refer to it as the ‘grey plague’.
Opponents have hit back, claiming that Prof Nileffti performs Black Magic, owns a Black Cat and drinks too much Black Mischief.
Alt-smart patriots have exposed her to be an ‘imagrunt’ and claim that our close links with Europe are to blame. The cure to black death is clearly to refuse to talk to anyone from across the channel ever again.
Prof Nileffti has described herself as ‘the not particularly light coloured sheep of the family’.
Meanwhile across the land, as brave King Charles flees London with his mistress, vicars are rubbing what’s left of their hands together and preparing sermons about Plagues of Boils.
The plague has reached as far as Eyam, believed to have been carried there in an infected piece of cloth in a consignment of fleas.
Eyam is still known as the ‘Dead Centre of the Hope Valley’, though it is not known how a plague village can be distinguished from any other village in Derbyshire.
Doctors are struggling to understand the disease because bacteria have not been invented yet. The most likely cause has been identified as people being very naughty before God all the time and the air being smelly.
Traditional remedies, like bleeding and mercury, have proved ineffective. Complementary therapists have suggested vaccination, but have been dismissed by mothers who prefer their infants to die naturally rather than to become autistic church goers.
Funerals have become commonplace. A group of travelling minstrels from Birmingham, known as ‘Darkly-Hued Sabbath’, has been a popular choice to play their funereal dirges during the last rites.
Meanwhile, people are dropping like flies. And there you have it, in black and white.
