Revolting Peasant lived in the fourteenth century England, but he has a lot of opinions about the world in the twenty first century .
All his life Revolting has been taxed, punished, admonished, regimented, ridiculed and a whole lot worse. He is heartily sick of all those who know better than him: kings, bishops, lords, priests, clerks, parasites the lot of them.
If he and his friends were left alone they would have a very nice time.
If he didn’t have to work so hard to pay his taxes, just so the parasites can enjoy their luxuries and their pensions, he could spend more time playing his whistle and drinking loco mead, and looking up at the sky while chewing hemp.
Revolting Peasant likes some people and not others. He likes merchants because he can swap what he does best, making whistles and growing vegetables, with something that someone else does best.
He likes the guilds too. The guilds make sure the standard of craftsmanship is high, and they look after each other like people in his village do.
Revolting Peasant has a particular dislike for tax inspectors and other government officials, thieves to a man.
He doesn’t much like bankers, who lend at interest.
He doesn’t like the abbots who, if anything, are worse. They act as pawnbrokers, and will take your very last bushel, given half a chance.
Debt is the path to servitude for many a poor man.
It’s the same old story; the lord or the government wants the poor peasant’s wealth.
Either the peasant pays up or he is made to do forced labour or worse. The poor peasant borrows to pay what he owes. He ends up a penniless slave whatever he does.
Revolting Peasant doesn’t like bishops and priests either. They tell him to be good. By good they mean obedient. By bad, they mean free.
Revolting is weary of lies. Falsehood keeps the peasants in chains, but the truth will set them free.
And Revolting Peasant intends to tell it as it is.
