Imagine that you live in the countryside - some sort of run down farming village. You spend long hours wanking off cows for milk and throwing chickens around to make pre-made scrambled eggs, only coming home because the sun has come down and your de-jure leige refuses to do anything about the wolves in the forest.
But one morning you wake up and see a giant golden statue perched right in the town square, crushing the only clean well and stopping carriages from getting past. The worst thing about the statue is that it's not even a good statue like one of Holly Peers showing off her norks, it's a giant duck or swan or equally pointless fecking bird.
"Who the feck put that there and why the feck is it there?!" You bellow out in between bites of shoe leather dipped in runny cat shit.
The Count looks down at you from his horse as his men finish painting pink and lime green willies on the statue's base plate. "Spent the wolf fund on it, innit. It'll bring tourists to the town."
You question why your tax money has been spent on something so pointless. Surely if the golden duck statue with pink and like green willies was any use then it would be able to support itself without costing you so much and becoming a hindrance to your daily life by cancelling the weekend football.
In fact, the whole argument about it bringing tourism is a lazy one. How much tourism? It's not quantifiable in any way whatsoever and if the whole point of investing money in a monument in the village is to attract tourists then why this fecking thing? Why not a yearly festival to celebrate the local entertainment, or give a sovereign grant to Cina's mum so she can buy more butter to stop her crevice drying up before the afternoon dockyard rush?
The Count isn't listening to you. He's already been dragged away by a hungry wolf. Everyone in the village has. All that's left is just you, your cows and a giant fecking golden duck that is slowly sinking into the mud.
Wtf is he doing?
