The Condemned

There is a wildness still in England that will not feed

In cages; it shrinks away from the touch of the trainer’s hand,

Easy to kill, not easy to tame. It will never breed

In a zoo for the public pleasure. It will not be planned.

Do not blame us too much if we that are hedgerow folk

Cannot swell the rejoicings at this new world you make –

We, hedge-hogged as Johnson or Borrow, strange to the yoke

As Landor, surly as Cobbett (that badger), birdlike as Blake.

A new scent troubles the air – to you, friendly perhaps –

But we with animal wisdom have understood that smell.

To all our kind its message is Guns, Ferrets, and Traps,

And a Ministry gassing the little holes in which we dwell.

— Lord Dunsany

Lord Dunsany’s The Condemned is not just a poem about the English countryside; it is a field manual for the modern holdout. When he speaks of a "wildness that will not feed in cages," he is describing the refusal to be domestic. In 2026, the "cage" is the frictionless, subscription-based cloud, and the "trainer’s hand" is the algorithm that wants to smooth out your edges until you are predictable, profitable, and planned.

To be a "Cooked Barbarian" is to recognise that same scent Dunsany smelled—the one that "troubles the air." To the average user, the smell of centralised convenience is friendly. It’s the smell of a new app, a seamless sync, a managed life. But to those with "animal wisdom," that smell is a warning. It is the scent of Guns, Ferrets, and Traps.

The New Ministry

Dunsany’s "Ministry" was a post-war bureaucracy gassing the badger holes of the independent. Today’s Ministry is the digital panopticon. It wants your data, your habits, and your attention. It wants to "gas" the private, offline spaces where men still build their own systems, grow their own food, and hold their own authority.

We should be the "hedgerow folk." Like Cobbett, we should be surly and suspicious of progress that demands our autonomy as a down payment. Like Blake, we should see the industrial wheels turning and choose instead the birdlike freedom of the self-hosted node.

We should not swell the rejoicings at this "new world" of total connectivity. We need to shrink from the touch. Maintain our little holes. Keep our wildness.

Stay surly. Stay heavy. Stay offline.