Yes, today is the 359th anniversary of the day they chopped Charles I's head off. To celebrate, here's something I wrote two years ago today.
The thing that really rather grated with people at the time was that during those wars something like ten per cent of the population had died, mostly of famine or disease. In Colchester, for instance, which was besieged in 1648, several thousand died before the Royalists surrendered. It just seemed like a bit of a heavy body count for one man's vainglory.
Colchester, by the way, has had something of a rough history. As well as the Civil War siege, it was burnt by Boadicea, it's had to put up with garrisons since the Romans, it had Britain's worst earthquake in 1884, and was bombed during the war. And that was before Bum Gravy.
Anyway, they chopped his head off on account of all the misery he'd caused, and good riddance to bad rubbish if you ask me. Eleven years later they blew it spectacularly by inviting his son back to be Charles the Second. Well, quite, what kind of twat gives his son his own name?
Charles II actually turned out to be a bit wiser than his dad, but he was succeeded by his brother James (II), who tried to make England Catholic again, with predictably unpleasant results - the Battle of Sedgemoor, Hanging Judge Jeffries, and then in the next century Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Highland clearances.
When you think about it, it's just too dreary to be borne, and it only serves to highlight the dangers of not chopping enough king's heads off. So bollocks to Guy Fawkes night, and let's all celebrate January the 30th, as a damn good start.
