Britain’s Most Mythologically Employed Birds Demand Better Working Conditions and a Cost-of-Living Supplement
Dear Diary,
I have been reliably informed this morning, by a man in a damp anorak outside the Tower of London, that the ravens are considering industrial action. Specifically, they are demanding better perches, a cost-of-living supplement, and what he called “appropriate recognition of their constitutional role.” I told him I understood completely, because I do. The ravens are, technically, employees of the Crown, and if the Crown can send King Charles III to Washington to do some freelance diplomacy, then the ravens are well within their rights to organise.
The Legend That Holds Britain Together
Let us revisit the myth. According to tradition, if the ravens of the Tower of London ever leave, the Crown will fall and with it the Kingdom itself. This was formally written down by people who clearly had not considered that a well-placed bag of crisps could lure the entire mythological protection apparatus off the battlements and into a tourist’s tote bag.
The ravens are kept with clipped wings. They cannot leave. The legend has therefore been maintained through what can only be described as mild avian kidnapping. Britain has been held together, spiritually and constitutionally, by six birds who have had their flight feathers trimmed and are fed raw meat by a man with the title of Ravenmaster. I find this deeply comforting. It is the most honest description of British governance I have ever encountered.
What Knightsbridge Makes of All This
Knightsbridge, as ever, has opinions. My neighbour Venetia — who owns a terrace house valued at four million pounds last Tuesday and four point two million by Thursday — told me over the garden wall that she finds the raven legend “reassuring in a thoroughly pre-rational way.” Her husband Piers said that if the ravens did leave, it would probably be a buying opportunity. He was not joking. He never jokes about property.
I have been reading the official history of the Tower ravens at Historic Royal Palaces, which explains that the ravens are named things like Jubilee, Harris, and Gripp, and that their health is considered a matter of national importance. This is the correct priority. We have had seven different Home Secretaries in four years. The ravens have been here since Charles II. I know who I trust.
The Political Dimension Nobody Is Discussing
Here is what strikes me as a student of London myth and lore: the raven legend says the Kingdom falls if the birds leave. It says nothing about the quality of governance in the interim. The ravens could stay, wings clipped and raw beef consumed, while Parliament converts democracy into procedural origami and nobody at Tower Hill would register so much as a caw of complaint.
The legend is a minimum viable standard. Do not let the birds go. Everything else is apparently optional. No clause about functional infrastructure, affordable housing, or a government that can complete a sentence. Just: keep the ravens. Britain will take it from there, or it won’t, but the ravens will still be there, looking magnificent and eating raw chicken.
My Personal Relationship With the Myth
I visited the Tower last autumn on what I told myself was research and what was actually a Tuesday with nothing scheduled. I watched the ravens for forty minutes. One of them — I believe it was Jubilee — looked at a group of tourists and produced an expression I can only describe as weary contempt. I thought: this bird understands Westminster politics better than most of the people in Westminster.
The English Heritage account of raven history notes that Charles II refused to remove the ravens because of the legend, even when his astronomer Royal objected that they interfered with telescope observations. So Britain chose mythology over astronomy in the seventeenth century and has basically stuck with that general approach ever since.
The Conclusion I Cannot Escape
I do not think the ravens are going anywhere. They are warm, they are fed, and they have a devoted Ravenmaster. But there is something instructive in the fact that Britain’s foundational protective myth involves flightless birds maintained through benign captivity. We have built an entire national identity on creatures who cannot actually leave even if they want to. I feel this in my bones every time I look at the Knightsbridge property market. We cannot leave either. The prices are too high and the mythology is too good.
I remain, as ever, your loyal correspondent from the postcode where legends are made and flats are priced accordingly.
Yours, Paige Shiver
More satire at newsthump.com.
A Note on the Ravenmaster
The Ravenmaster is, I have decided, the most honest job title in British public life. Morale Manager. Director of Strategy. Head of Communications. These all obscure what is happening behind the title. Ravenmaster does not obscure anything. There is a man. There are ravens. He is their master. He feeds them, he tends to them, he ensures the mythological architecture of the British state remains structurally sound. If you ask me who in government is doing something genuinely essential, I will tell you: it is the Ravenmaster. Everyone else is, at best, optional.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/
