The Strange fable of the Beast and the Mirror

For many years mankind had worried that the world was doomed and that it would come to an end. There had been many predictions of its demise from meteors from space to the Environment. But no one actually knew what would finally bring the End of the World and so no one knew what they should do to stop it, because by the time they knew it would be too late. 

However in a dark cave deep in a forest in a wild and seldom visited land lived a beast, a very old and very wise beast who it was said knew of all things. So a party of great leaders and scholars from all around the world ventured into the forest of the seldom visited land to find the mythical beast of legend.  And after many many weeks of hunting they finally saw the strange beast watching them from the entrance of an unassuming cave.

The beast looked and said to the party of great leaders and scholars you have come to ask me a question about how the World will end and what you can do to stop it. The great leaders and scholars from around the world were very impressed and said we have indeed.  The beast thought and pondered for a long time and then said.  Only one thing will destroy the world but to find out what it is will involve a task, a task where you will all have to work together in order to complete it. You will need to make a mirror, but not just any mirror but a huge mirror so large that all of mankind can look into it. It will take many years and require many skills, but once complete it will reveal the terrible truth.

Well the great leaders and scholars from around the world returned home and for many years worked together to make the huge mirror, and because they were all working together there were no wars and much prosperity until one day it was finally finished.  The world’s population admired their work and then slowly and apprehensively moved forward to look into the mirror to see what terrible thing was going to end the world, but when they all looked all they could see was themselves looking back.   

A story about a Bear in a Chair

The Bear is only about 10 inches in height by the way

Not a huge Monster Bear

But his chair is finished and he is a Happy Bear.

Once upon a time there was a Bear in a Chair

He/she was not just any Bear in a Chair

He/she was the ruler of the world

And a jolly good ruler he/she was too

The Bear in the Chair said that everyone must be nice to bears

And all the folk in the world cheered and were nice to bears

And then he/she said everyone in the world must be nice to everyone

And everyone in the World cheered and was nice to everyone

(This is quite obviously a fairy tale)

Then someone asked the wise bear what his/her name is

And the Bear in the Chair said. . . AH I can’t remember

Someone shouted Grizzly and the bear said. . . . No

Someone else shouted Vladimir and the Bear said. . . . No

Someone else said Aristotle and the bear said . . . . . No

Someone shouted Matilda and the bear said I can’t remember

Then the bear said

Hang on I have my name written on a piece of paper

Safely hidden away so that I cannot forget it

And the people of the world cheered and shouted

But what is it we need to know the name of the Bear in the Chair

And the bear said

Well this is answer to the Guess the Name of the Bear Competition

So I will not be allowed to tell anyone until after Saturday

When it will be revealed to the entire world

After the local village jumble sale

And the people of the world said

Well that’s not fair and spent the rest of time fighting and being rotten

You see folk are like that, the slightest thing and before you know it we are all at war

Well everyone except the Bear in the Chair

Who remains poised and dignified wondering who will guess the correct name?

And wondering why he/she has a slightly wonky chair.

Olaf the Ogre . . . A fairytale

Olaf the Ogre often wandered into the village to collect his groceries snarling and growling in a menacing way, sending the locals fleeing in all directions screaming and panicking. But the thing is, it was not all as it first appeared because Olaf the Ogre was actually rather a friendly chap (ogre). OK he was an ogre, but you see he worked for the King and the King insisted that Olaf the Ogre acted in a traditional Ogre way, the villagers all liked Olaf the Ogre but were happy to do their bit to look scared and run about and panic when he arrived to stock up on provisions. You see Olaf lived in the enchanted forest, which unfortunately were not very enchanted anymore, which is why the King thought a large scary ogre lurking about might help.

Well all was well and the villagers were happy as they liked Olaf and the King was happy as everyone seems to runaway and looked frightened and Olaf was happy as he was able to make a decent living and only had to pretend to be a bit of a horrid, nasty and somewhat scary Ogre.

Then one day a rather aloof and unpopular Prince arrived in the kingdom in order to win the hand of the King’s daughter. Well traditionally this usually involves killing dragons or slaying terrible monsters or some sort of similar feat of bravery. However there were no real monsters or dragons in the kingdom so the Prince decided that he would fight and kill Olaf the Ogre in the enchanted forest. The Prince informed the King of his intention which was a bit of a shock for the King who said it was not necessary, although he thought he better not tell the prince that he was paying Olaf the Ogre to make the forest seem a bit scarier. After all except for a grumpy hedgehog and a rather aggressive old badger that limped it was generally rather a nice forest. But the Prince insisted he was off to kill the ogre, assuming that the King was worried he would get hurt as he was after all a brave handsome Prince and something of a catch for any Princess. Although the Princess herself thought he was an idiot, so was rather hoping that he would fail in his quest, but she also knew that Olaf the Ogre was a bit of a fake and that he was actually rather a friendly and kind Ogre.

As the Prince rode off on his trusty stead into the forest even the villagers tried to persuade the Prince to reconsider his quest, but to him they were just foolish peasants and did not know of the ways of Princes.  The Prince found Olaf the Ogre very quickly and said . . . . I have come to kill you and win the hand of the Princess in marriage . . . .  Well Olaf looked at the Prince and said . . .  Well I can not fight you with armour that dirty, but I will clean it for you if you wish . . . The Prince thanked the Ogre and took off his armour. . . expecting Olaf the Ogre to clean it, but instead he ran off with it.

An hour later the Prince wearing a full set of very shiny armour arrived at the Kings palace and demanded to marry the Princess straight away. However the next morning at the breakfast table the King was somewhat shocked to find out that his daughter the Princess was now married to Olaf the Ogre and they were very happy, in fact everyone lived happily ever after. . . . well almost everyone?

The Prince it seems was never seen again and folk think maybe the not very enchanted forest is enchanted after all and that is probably very true.

And that is why after much thought I have decided that I will probably vote to leave the EU unless I change my mind. 

The Truth behind Burns Night . . . And the origins of the Haggis

This is the story of Mad Rob Z Burns whom way back was the man who finally destroyed the terrible beast of the heather known at the time as the Hissing Hag a terrible beast that legend said had plundered the wild places of Scotland eating unsuspecting crofters and travellers.  Rob Z Burns was a proud and fearless Scottish warrior who would stand his ground against all, even when out numbered twenty five to one. Which is why he was known as Mad Rob Z Burns; well that and his habit of waving his private parts at mountain goats and Englishmen scaring both somewhat.

You see back in about 1520 Scotland was in much turmoil having lost many fighters and noblemen in the Battle of Flodden in 1513 and this was a time when the fabled beast of the Wild the so called Hissing Hag was said to be at its most dangerous. Partly due to the fact, most of the highland warriors had perished in their battle against the English. But there was one who had not, Mad Rob Z Burns and having resigned himself to the Scottish defeat decided to find and defeat the fabled beast, The Hissing Hag.

He was a man of few words and when folk did ask him things such as  . . . How is it going  Mad Rob Z . . . he would reply with . .  Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes believe . .  or even . . .  Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware . . .  Which after a while led to folk shuffling past avoiding conversation all together.  Much as most folk do today when they see a mad drunk Glaswegian in Sauchiehall Street.

However rumour soon spread across Scotland of Mad Rob Z Burns and his quest to find the fabled beast of the wild the so called Hissing Hag and destroy it.  And from time to time folk would see him up in the mountains tracking the beast through the mist. He would often wave and lift his kilt exposing his private parts to the unsuspecting traveller causing much stress and shock to the young and innocent But Mad Rob Z Burns was a Scottish Warrior it is what they do (well did). Then after about two years Mad Rod returned home having finally slain the beast. As proof he had kept a part of the beast in a sack. It was a hideous and gruesome sight. Many people came to see Mad Rob Z Burns and the remains of the beast and they would all ask him how he managed to kill it, but all he would ever say is . . . . Ah jist Neeped th' Hag Hiss beest wi' mah broad sword . . .

This was celebrated by many by making a copy of the terrible remains of the beast out of various bits of Sheep which the entire family would eat while drinking loads of Whisky and being rude with their kilts. The origin of the Haggis (from the Hag Hiss or Hissing Hag).

Then one of Mad Rob Z Burns’ ancestors also called Robert Burns wrote a poem which led to the modern day celebrations we all know as Burns Night on the 25^th January, but of course we all know that he was merely using a bit of poetic licence to tell the true story of Mad Rob Z Burns. Who would be far more well know had he said a bit more and exposed himself a bit less, but well that is what those old Scottish warriors were like back then.

  Address to a Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye worthy o' a grace

As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o need,

While thro your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,

An cut you up wi ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

'Bethankit' hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi perfect scunner,

Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither'd rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro bloody flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He'll make it whissle;

An legs an arms, an heads will sned,

Like taps o thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies:

But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,

Gie her a Haggis  

The fable of the Land of Pap. A tale of charity, giving and paper.

A long time ago in the strange and ancient Land of Pap the most valuable thing in the land was paper. It was coveted by all, and its uses were varied and endless which only added to its desirability.  It was Lord Afour who was regarded as the richest man in the land of Pap as he had so much paper it was said that if it was laid out flat it would cover the entire world 144 times; of course some folk felt such wealth was rather gross (HAH AHHAh ah aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hahaha).

Well one day Lord Afour realised that there was more to life than wealth and so he gave half his paper to this friend Prince Foolscap who had only a small battered notepad.  Prince Foolscap was so pleased he gave half of the paper to his old family solicitor Mr Readas Smallprint and he in turn gave half to Charles Pencilsharpener.

Well so it went on as each recipient of the paper received it they gave half to a friend as a gesture of goodwill and charity.  Eventually of course the amount of paper received reduced substantially until young Miss Quill Pen received just 100 sheets of paper. But she only required 50 to get her through University, so she gave 50 to her Japanese college friend Miss Origami Nodding Swan, who keen to be seen to do her bit gave two sheets of paper to a down and out sleeping in the doorway of the University library (known to his mates as Ringbinder). Of course libraries could not afford real books and they were all kept on hard drives accessed by small electronic devices.

So it was as the sun set Ringbinder the old down and out rolled up the two sheets of paper and went down to the riverside where he saw his pals sleeping under the railway bridge. There were three of them nicknamed, Scrap, Maths and Hardcover and they all looked really pleased as Ringbinder tore the two sheets of paper in half so that each of them could wrap themselves up warm against the wild cold winters wind and rain under the old railway bridge.

As time passed the world moved on, and one by one everyone died and found themselves face to face with their God who asked them about what they had done to help there fellow man.  But strangely although God was pleased that Lord Afour and his friends had given half their wealth to someone else. It appeared that it was not who gave the greatest amount that pleased God the most, but those who had the least to give. When eventually the old down and out known as Ringbinder turned up in front of God and was asked what good deed he had done, he could not remember that he had shared his paper with his mates until God reminded him. Ringbinder you see had never thought is was a good deed, he was just pleased that he and his pals could stay warm, however God was very pleased and gave Ringbinder a new pair of comfy shoes and a big crusty bacon butty. God you see is very wise, which is why it is not a good idea to do terrible things in his name.                      

The True Sorry of Christmas and its Viking Past . . . A tale for Christmas Eve

Back in the days of the early Vikings when their kingdom was large and they were feared by all across Europe there was a one particularly famous Viking warrior called Sven Antason. He was known to be fearless in battle and would always lead his fighters into every fight from the front because he completely trusted the Great Norse Gods knowing they would protect him.  The Vikings lords of the day would always call Sven for help in their battles and he would always do so, as a loyal and proud Viking warrior. Sven Antason however was a solitary soul and lived in the frozen tundra, north of the Arctic Circle and during the long dark winters Sven and his team of reindeer would often cross the snow covered wastelands as he headed off to yet another battle, observed only by the Great Norse Gods as no one else lived in this hostile environment over winter.

But as time passed Sven got older and was not seen as the warrior he used to be, and so the Viking lords called on his assistance less and less, trusting the fighting spirit of younger men. But Sven Antason would still go out in the middle of winter and thunder through the frozen snow covered tundra on this sleigh pulled by his trusty reindeer where he would help and save people lost in the bitter dark and unforgiving cold, wind and snow. In fact stories of how Sven Antason would turn up to save travellers started to become common turning Sven into something of a legend among the Vikings. And he would often give strangers food and warm clothing in order that they could continue their journey something that was much appreciated by those he helped; leading to his growing reputation as a kind and wise man.

But as time passed as it does Sven grew older still and it became harder and harder for him to venture out into the wild and eventually he knew the days when he could battle through the worst of the winter weather were numbered. So as another winter reached it coldest and darkest and a bitter blizzard blow through the landscape he decided it was time to take his sleigh and reindeer our for one final run and place his destiny in the hands of the Great Norse Gods as he had always done.  The Gods of course liked Sven Antason and so they told Sven that it was time for him to be at peace, but that once a year on the darkest and wildest day of winter he can travel many journeys on his sleigh pulled by his trusty team of reindeer with all strength he had in his younger days. This was so Sven could show all the wisdom of maintaining faith in the Gods and yourself.

Well as we know Modern religion in not keen on the old Gods of mankind, particularly the Great Norse Gods and so modern Christianity has sneakily changed and adapted the story of Sven Antason to be rather more Christian. Which means that Sven Antason is now known now as Santa and rather than a brave and noble Viking, he is said to be a friendly old chap in a Red Outfit.  This is not something that the Great Norse Gods or Sven worry about because as parents and folk sneak presents under Christmas trees in the warm of the homes;  out in the wilds, North of the Arctic Circle Sven Antason and his reindeer will be speeding through the snow as they do every year.

And so there you have it Santa is entirely real only he is a old Viking warrior called Sven Antason protected by the Great Norse Gods of Old. And that is the true story of Christmas. . . . . . . sort of 

A tale of Santa which has been proved to be slightly wrong

This is yet another repeat but it is OK because I bet none of you read it the first time. Now I do need to apologise at this point because it has become clear in the last 2-3 days that this story is in fact not entirely true. I know folk trust me to be truthful but when a large man in a red coat tells you a story he says is entirely true I for one believe him. But is seems that the chap was a fake Father Christmas or so I have been informed by the real Father Christmas a few days ago.  Luckily the true Father Christmas has talk me the truth about Santa and in the next couple of days I will be able to reveal all. . . . When I say reveal all I do not mean take all my clothes off and run about I am not that mad. No I will tell you all the truth about the origins of Santa way back when.



So here we have it the Story of Santa (only its a bit wrong)  


One upon a time a very long time ago living in the wild snows in or around the proximity of Lapland lived a mad grumpy old man who for reasons only known to himself and a gang of Elves wore a false beard. He had locked them (the Elves not the false beards) in a large workshop making novelty logs for his fire in the shape of trains, cars, rockets, dogs, cats, rabbits, in fact almost anything you could think of. He then threw them on his fire (not the elves but the logs) going HA HAHH HA HHAH ahha ha ha ha ha hah ha ha ha because he disliked them all, but had been warned by the police about throwing small cute furry things and trains onto fires so had to make do with wooden lookalikes.

Once a year however he would venture out in the middle of winter and steal mince pies, and glasses of mulled wine from folk in the middle of the night (I did say he was mad). It was something of a mystery for the people of Lapland who just could not work out who was stealing all the mince pies and drinking their mulled wine or getting into their houses.  Then the king decided to reward who ever caught the thief with a fir tree full of sparkly things, a foolish idea after all folk in Lapland need another fir tree like a hedgehog needs one more flea.

But as it happens one small child, a little girl decided she would like her very own fir tree full of sparkly things so hid in a large box which she disguised with wrapping paper and a large bow. It is after all the sort of thing little girls do, they are not going to be happy hiding in a plain old cardboard box.  Then at the stroke of midnight the mad old man arrived down the chimney grumbling about soot and stuff.  As he drank the little girl’s parents mulled wine and raided the larder for mince pies the little girl sneaked up behind him and said I ARREST YOU FOR STEALING WINE AND MINCE PIES AND YOU MUST COME WITH ME TO THE POLICE STATION.

The grumpy old man was a bit startled but thinking fast he said HO HO HO LITTLE GIRL, IF YOU LET ME GO I WILL GIVE YOU A SACK OF NOVELTY LOGS (SORRY I MEAN TOYS) TO BURN (SORRY I MEAN PLAY WITH) AND BESIDES I HAVE A MAGIC REINDEER WAITING FOR ME ON YOUR ROOF AND IF YOU ARREST ME HE WILL STARVE TO DEATH. AND HE HAS A RED NOSE AND A MAGIC SLEIGH AND ANTLERS AND STUFF.  The little girl pondered and looked at the logs (sorry toys) and said OK THEN BUT THAT BIG FALSE BEARD IS RUBBISH AND WOULD YOU LIKE A CARROT FOR THE REINDEER.  Nodding and taking the carrot the mad grumpy man made his escape up the chimney as fast as possible, but as he did the little girl shouted to him BY THE WAY WHAT IS YOU NAME and as he reached the top he shouted back SATAN HA HAHH HAH HA HAH HHAH ha ha ha HO HO HO . . . .

The little girl mishearing him said SANTA? WELL THAT’S A FUNNY NAME. However at school the following day she told her friends about SANTA and showed them her wooden novelty logs (sorry I mean toys) and then every small child started demanding they wanted SANTA to leave them things and the whole thing just got entirely out of control.  But the mad grumpy old man found that his new fancy toys (sorry novelty logs) were selling like hot cakes (or logs) and he made loads of money allowing him to buy a big flash fur lined red coat. Although the Elves demanded a pay rise and with advances in technology got their revenge by not supplying batteries.

Of course over the long years the whole story has become a bit mixed up and  fact and folk tale have blended together so that almost no one believes Santa is a mad grumpy old man in a false beard complaining about an itchy fur lined coat and drinking mulled wine in the middle of the night and nibbling a carrot………………

The true story (from Egypt) behind the Princess and the Pea Fairytale

Many people have heard the story of the Princess and the Pea, but few are aware that its origins are a true story which has been told for hundreds of years by Egyptian nomadic goat farmers. A tale handed down from father to son in the evenings below the stars as they eat their flat breads and spicy bean and goat stew.  The original story is based on a true event but as always us in the west have chopped and changed it so much that the wisdom of that original tale is all but lost. So in order to put this right I feel I should tell that original tale as told to me by one of those old goat farmers (now living in Mid-Wales)

Once Upon a Time there was a young and ambitious nomadic goat farmer who had been given a rather motley collection of goats by his father so that he could go into the world and make his fortune. His father would have given him more, but sadly nomadic goat farmers are poor and have little to give but goats.  The young goat farmer worked hard and bred many goats and they all prospered as they roamed the arid grass lands of the deserts fringes.

Then one day the young goat farmer had the opportunity to buy a posh pedigree goat with soft long hair which he knew would make lovely blankets to sell at market.  He called the goat Princess and although a lovely goat she was rather aloof and looked down upon the other rather dishevelled and scruffy goats.  However every night Princess was restless and tossed and turned and jiggled about trying to sleep, which then disturbed the entire herd.

In the end after several days the young goat farmer decided to search through the straw to find out what was causing his posh new goat to have such a restless night. After several hours he found a dried chickpea under Princess and once it was removed she slept like a log (as the old saying goes). Well this was fine for several days but the other goats were rather keen on chickpeas and ate loads of them, but goats are messy eaters and Princess started to disturb the other goats again. So the young goat farmer thought he would just put more straw down so that Princess would not feel the chickpea under her.  Well over the nights he put more and more and more straw down for Princess to sleep on, but it was to no avail she always knew there was a small dried chickpea under her bedding.

After several weeks he suddenly had a brilliant idea and he put Princess with his camel which was called Prince who did not eat chickpeas much. Anyway as we all know camels don’t leave food lying about ever, not even a single chickpea.  And from then onwards everyone slept in peace and all was well.

Well . . .  all was well for a while, because Prince (the Camel) and Princess (the Goat) became very close and then one very star lit night Prince kissed Princess and instantly she turned into a camel and the pair of them ran off together into the night and were last seen in a train heading out into the desert.  The young Goat farmer never bought another posh goat after that because he thought it was just too much work, and to this day all the goats you see in Egypt are a rather dishevelled and scruffy and all the camels think they are Posh and important.

And that is the true story of the Princess and the Pea . . . . . . sort of           

A Fairytale involving Fate, Wizards, Wisdom, Perilous Journeys and the voice of the enchanted Fleezleboo

Once upon a Time (yes its fairytale time again) there was a famous wizards conference, held every couple of years in the Great Kingdom of Eek, in the Province of Illuminations near the famous cursed lake known to all as The Black Pool in the town of Rowlingside. A popular location for conferences among wizards, witches and various other groups ever since that Harry Potter was seen scurrying about near Rowlingside fish and chip shop, before he became all religious and vanished forever into the Holy Wood.

Now as is always the way in fairy tales the journey (to the conference) is very perilous and wizards sometimes do not make it, due to attacks from the dark witches, monsters and various evil spirits. It has even been know for wizards not to go, but this is frowned upon, as it is seen as a rite of passage to prove the worth of the wizard and his skills at wizardry and cunning guile.  And it means they generally all have a great tale to tell during evenings at the bar.

There is no easy route as each has its own hazards, from the terrible Angry Mountains of Fear to The Plains of Madness.  However our tale is of two wizards, the wise Professor Arnoldium Trestle-Table and the foolish Professor Hamish Pikefish Flounder who decided they would travel together.  They had decided to travel through The Valley of Mystical Mists, a strange world that when the sun shines can be an easy passage for a wizard travelling to conference. But once the mists appear them it is said it is best not to move and that you need to take cover, and under no circumstances listen to the voices of the enchanted Fleezleboo. The voice of the Fleezleboo is very convincing and will tell wizards many things in order to trick them into fatal errors of judgement, which is why it is best to be a wise wizard rather than a foolish wizard.

Our two wizards travel fast and easily make it most of the way through the valley during daylight, but as sunset arrives so does the strange Mysterious Mists. Spotting a large Oak tree to spend the night in they climb high into its canopy, knowing that high up in the branches of the ancient oak they are safe. And so it is that they sleep peacefully until morning when they conjure up bacon, sausage and eggs and Scotch pancakes with maple syrup and smoked kippers. Happily eating their breakfast until the mist clears and they can complete their journey.

As they chat and ponder the vast sea of mist below them from their vantage point in the oak tree a serene voice from below calls to them. . . . It’s safe now you can come down and go to conference. . .  Well the wise Professor Arnoldium Trestle-Table is not going to be fooled by the voice of the Fleezleboo and shouts down we are not fools we know that if we do we will be bitten by a huge centipede turning us into Zombies and then earwigs will bore into our brains and eat them and then the Toe-dy Beast will nibble our toes and finally our bodies will be eaten by slugs.

Then the voice says. . . .  No No it is me, Miss Granger from those films, I am guest speaker it is quite safe. . . .  Well the foolish Professor Hamish Pikefish Flounder says . . . . OOOO I always wanted to meet her . . . and leaps to the ground. Well I think you can guess what happens. . . . He is bitten by a huge centipede turning him a Zombie and then earwigs bore into his brain and eat it, and then the Toe-dy Beast nibbles his toes and finally his bodies is eaten by slugs.  Well the wise Professor Arnoldium Trestle-Table shakes his head and says he was a foolish wizard to believe such a lie.

He waits patiently in the tree watching the mist slowly burn off in the sun until it is almost gone, when the faint voice of the Fleezleboo says look out for that dragon I would get out of that oak tree if I was you, but  Professor Arnoldium Trestle-Table is very wise and laughs. Then the very next second a huge Dragon swoops out of the sky and eats him.

Which just goes to show the hand of fate does not look upon the wise or foolish any differently and you just can’t tell what is going turn up out of the blue. . . . .  But it is very unlikely to be Miss Granger.     

How to Write a very Traditional Old School Fairytale Starting with Once Upon a Time

The trick to. . .  How to Write a very Traditional Old School Fairytale Starting with Once Upon a Time . . . is very simple indeed. Just go for it. . . A bit like this one

Once upon a time in the far distant past in a land ruled by a fairly typical King and Queen as often seen or read about in fairy tales, there was a young princess. Yes you have guessed it she was in fact the daughter of the King and Queen and was very beautiful. Now being a princess and also young and beautiful made the wicked witch of the woods very very angry. Partly because she was not young and beautiful, but also because wicked witches in fairy tales are generally grumpy and always end up having a rotten time. Some would probably argue this is their own fault and if they were nice to folk all would be well. But they are wicked witches and that would be silly and ruin a good fairytale, and witches do love a good fairytale and will often turn up for no good reason what so ever.

Now it just so happens that one day the Wicked Witch of the Woods met the princess as she was riding through the woods heading no where in particular and the witch told the princess she had put a terrible spell on all the handsome princes in all the kingdom. And that if the princess wanted to meet her husband to be (as princesses have a habit of doing in fairy tales) she would need to kiss every frog she saw . . . .  (Obviously because the wicked witch had turned the handsome prince into a frog). Only it was a lie; the wicked witch had not turned any princes into frogs and the witch left laughing hysterically as witches do.

Well from that day onward the Princess went around looking for frogs kissing every single one she found much to the embarrassment of the King and Queen who kept introducing all the best princes to the princess as prospective husbands, but to no avail as she was convinced that Mr Right (the prince) was in fact a frog.

In the end out of desperation the King offered half his kingdom to anyone who could stop the princess kissing all the damn frogs, by now she had started a breeding program and there were frogs everywhere. Well on hearing this, a passing minstrel said he could do this that very night, but he insisted that he also got to marry the princess. The King agreed as by now many many wizards, knights, mathematicians and every prince in the land had tried and failed to stop the princess kissing frogs.

As night fall arrived the young Minstrel slipped into his Pantomime Frog outfit he used for his Christmas play and went and sat among the bulrushes at the edge of the royal lake. So it was that a short time later the princess on her nightly quest to find frogs spotted him. . . . OOOOOoooo you are big. . .  she said and gave him a big kiss, as she did so the minstrel unzipped the Pantomime frog suit and leapt out.  . . . OOOOOoooo you are big . . . . Said the princess and the very next day they were married and lived happily ever after

O NO they didn’t

O yes they did

O No they Didn’t . . . (continuing the pantomime theme a bit longer).

So . .  O yes they DID.

Well actually they did not, you see the princess it appeared rather liked kissing frogs all the time and insisted the poor minstrel dress up as a frog each night. The pair of them then leapt and frolicked about in a large lake chirping and croaking and various other things that should not be mentioned in a children’s fairytale.   Well this was all very exciting for the princess, but the poor old minstrel now a prince decided it was all a bit strange so he ran off and was never seen again. . . Although it is said he got a job as a pantomime dame in the west end and married Peter Pan (who is a woman. . . Yes I don’t know why Peter Pan is always a woman either).

As for the Princess she is happy in her palace breeding rare frogs and still kissing them just in case. I will not got into the details of Bath Night . . . . 

And the Wicked Witch of the Woods lived happily ever after, well someone has too this is a fairy tale its tradition

O No she didn’t

O Yes She did. . . . . . You see it’s my fairytale so . . . . YA SUCKS BOO.    

AH NO. . . . actually she didn’t

DAMN 

The Tower, the Wizards and the Peasant Girl . . starring a Master Voldemort as special guest

My page views have dropped like a stone falling off a tall tower in the last couple of days and that has given me an idea so here goes. I don’t know where it will all end but Tally Ho lets start writing

A tale of Wizards and why one of them got very grumpy.

Well as we all know the most prestigious Wizard school in all the kingdom is the Charmspells Academy for Young Wizards, not that other one that folk go on about. But to get into Charmspells each of the young wizards has to pass a test, if they fail they are  sent off to that other rather more well know Wizard school. Each year a different person is chosen to set that years test by the ancient Speaking Stones of Wisdom in the Fabled Forest of Eternal Whispers. A place where even wizards eventually go mad from all the eternal whispering.  Each year the  Speaking Stones of Wisdom would announce the name of a grand wizard or legendary witch or warlock to set the challenge for the young hopefuls.

But then one year the Speaking Stones of Wisdom  said Vanilla Pickcall . . . . . Well no one knew who Vanilla Pickcall was and the kingdom was searched high and low until a young peasant girl was found working as a servant in the Tower of Diversity beyond the Hills of Echo. It was very confusing but the ancient Speaking Stones of Wisdom had spoken and so it was that young Vanilla was given the task of setting the test.

She set the test at the top of the Tower of Diversity which against one of its walls was the Forest of Eternal Whispers, against the second wall was The Sea of Mysteries, against the third was the Quick Sands of Illusion and against its forth was a long lawn and the path to the tower. The task the young wizards had to perform was to throw a pebble from the top of the tower, collect it and return to the top of the tower in only 10 minutes. The Young wizards were all allowed to climb the tower to study it first before they had to return one at a time to perform the task.

Well young wizards can be rather precocious and the worst of these was a young wizard called Master Voldemort and he turned his pebble into a frog then back into a pebble and then made it hover high above his head. He and his friends thought the test was foolish and simple and paid no attention at the top of the tower and called Vanilla the young servant a fool. Only a Miss Watson and a Master Black appeared to study the top of the tower worried that it all looked too simple.

After the young wizards once again reached the base of the tower each in turn was allowed to return to the top of the tower but once there the sky was black and it was impossible to tell which side was which. You see Vanilla had asked the grand wizard who owned the tower to turn the sky black which meant only those who had looked with care at the tower and listened to the noises of the forest, the sea and the quick sands would know the safest place to throw their pebble.  And so it was that Miss Watson and a Master Black who had studied to the surrounding noises knew where to throw their pebbles to be able to recover them quickly, returning to the top of the tower, and so passing the test.

One by one the other young wizards failed as they threw their pebbles into the quick sand, the sea or the forest meaning they were unable to find them.  Finally young Master Voldemort took his turn and attempted to use all the magic he knew to see through the blackness but it was to no avail. As time was running out, in anger he threw his pebble into the dark void. As he listened he heard it bounce on the path of the lawn safely below and he rushed to collect it, but arrived two seconds too late back at the top and so was told he could not go to the prestigious  Charmspells Academy for Young Wizards and would have to go to the other one. He was furious to be beaten by a young servant girl and charged into the Forest of Eternal Whispers to complain to the Speaking Stones of Wisdom themselves, who he blamed for this. But he got lost for several weeks and when he finally returned was not the same ever again, because as we know the Forest of Eternal Whispers will turn even the hardiest of wizards completely mad.

But he did go on to make a bit of a name for himself before finally having his entire plans ruined by another young wizard who had also failed the same test many years later.  

           

The terrible tale of the Worlds Deadliest Bird

Back in 1871 when Caruthers Kipling was searching for rare Birds of Paradise in Papua New Guinea for his extensive collection of stuffed Animals, he heard from one of the local tribes of a strange bird that was feared and that they had been forbidden from even looking for, It was said by the tribe to mean certain death and they called it the Ohno bird as this is what folk generally shouted if they saw it.  Caruthers of course was keen to find it and once he started to look found it rather easily. Making note of its location he made notes and decided to have a good nights sleep before capturing the bird the following day.

Sadly the following morning he was found dead having had a heart attack in his sleep. A couple of years later the famous naturalist Sir Flyby Knight read of the bird in Caruthers Kipling’s journal kept in the archives of the Natural History Museum and set off to find the small bird.  Again he found it very easily at the location as described by Caruthers Kipling.  He set up a hide to monitor the birds but a tragic accident with his gas lamp meant he sadly died in a fire within his own hide.

This made the bird rather famous and several expeditions set off to find the small bird but all ended in tragedy when an unforeseen storm hit the area where the small bird lived.  The Ohno Bird then became known in Britain as the Grim Reaper Bird and for a while no one ventured to visit its habitat.

In 1905 an American team visiting Papua New Guinea looking for oil and mineral deposits decided to look for the bird and again found it much easier than they anticipated the small team of mining executives were rather underwhelmed by the plain little bird. We know this because they were speaking on their transmitter when a huge herd of Forest Rhino stampeded through their camp. Apparently spooked by soldier ants. It was said one of the members survived for a couple of days and did give a rather detailed description of the bird.

Over the years several adventurers attempted to capture the bird but alas all ended in terrible accidents or illness. Eventually in 1953 the flamboyant American Billionaire Harry Ramjet Jefferson decided to blow up the entire valley where the small bird lived in order to rid the world of this terrible doomsday beast. He set up an entire series of explosive charges over a range of several miles although he never saw the bird during this process,  his wife Jenny Jefferson later said he was concentrating on setting the charges and never thought about the bird. However when he hit the button to set the charges off nothing happened.  He was then forced to enter the valley, which in the interest of safety; he did alone to check the cables and igniters.  His wife later told the Press his last words were. . . . . Its all sorted Darling I'll be back in a minute . . . . . What  . . . . . Ohno. . . . . There was then a huge explosion and that was that.

It was thought this was the end of the Ohno Bird, but in 1975 three well known naturalists making a wildlife programme for the BBC entered the valley and were never seen again. And in 2002 a Japanese camera crew were somehow strangely all electrocuted by their own equipment in the monsoon rains.

A Russian team in 2013 hunting for the bird with AK47’s, antitank weapons and several crates of Vodka also all tragically died but it is thought this was not related the Ohno Bird as they were in the wrong valley.

Look Folks dont make me write any more that is three days in a row I have had to draw a picture and make stuff up on the spur of the moment.  I just cant keep it up . . . . . . . . No wonder these stories are getting a bit dodgy . . . . I mean PHEW. . . I have many other things to do you know. . . .

OOOoooo look what's that. . . . .. OHNO.

A tale of Wisdom, a King and a wise Bedouin

Once upon a time there was a wise Bedouin who lived by the main road in a small tent and stood guard over a large wooden chest. It was tradition for the wealthy to throw a gold coin into the chest as they headed off on their travels, as it would bring them good luck. Then when a poor traveller passed the wise Bedouin would give the traveller a gold coin to help them on their journey. It was a tradition that had been in existence for many many years and no one knew how old the wise Bedouin was.

Then one day the King passed  with a huge army heading to war and he threw in many gold coins, returning a few months later triumphant having defeated his enemies and taken over their lands.  Several years later the King and his army passed again and this time he just threw in a small token coin worth almost nothing as he was now confident of winning the war against his old enemy. Again a few months later he returned triumphant having yet again defeated the enemy and destroying their army.   Then as is the way he had to return yet again to suppress yet another uprising by his old enemy a few years later. But this time the King and the Army thundered past on their camels leaving no coin in the wise Bedouin's wooden chest.  Again the King returned Triumphant and the people of the kingdom cheered and all was well.

However news that the King had not left a gold coin in the wise Bedouin's large wooden chest and he still prospered and won his battles soon spread across the Kingdom, so less and less well off travellers were willing to throw a coin in the chest. And it became more and more difficult for the wise Bedouin to help the poor as they headed on their way as they looked for work or something to eat.  Discontent spread among the poor and news of this then spread to the Kings enemies who thought that all must not be well in the Kingdom.

So encouraged by this the Kings enemies once again marched towards the Kingdom and the King and his army rode past the wise Bedouin to defeat the enemy, but they were older and not as fit or as fast as they had been in their youth and the King was defeated.  The King was then forced to flee for his life with nothing, dressed as a beggar, but he knew that the wise Bedouin has a large chest full of gold coins and would help him. When he arrived he found that the wise Bedouin was packing up his tent and the large wooden chest was empty and broken.  The King confused asked were all gold coins had gone and the wise Bedouin explained that no one had left any coins for a long time and he had given the last to an old man the day before and was now leaving the Kingdom to help others in far off lands.

The King still pursued by his enemies vanished into the desert and was never seen again, but it is said he is still dressed as an old beggar looking for the wise Bedouin with the large wooden chest.

A Tale of Two Aardvarks or Let Them (and JK Rowling) Eat Cake

I have to say I am rather tired tonight (I'm old you know) having been here and there doing things so I have decided to post an older post from my Aardvark  period, as you know I'm presently in my JK Rowling period. Anyway I need to post some sort of post on the blog because I have discovered there is a critical number of blogs per month in order to keep up and increase the number of page views. . . .  So here is one of the less popular posts from the past I hope you enjoy it (a bit)

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Once upon a time back when nights were nights (much as they are now?) there lived a large and noble Aardvark called Napoleon. He was an ambitious Aardvark with dreams of world domination and leading his army through Europe and over the Alps on the back of Elephants, yes Napoleon was also a little mad. However his dreams were thwarted by his army of aardvarks, as we can tell from the following extract from his autobiography written as he languished in a Zoo on Alba (sorry Elbow) many years later.

“They were rubbish and ill disciplined  digGING holes in the parade ground looking for grubs and  not listening to a single command it was futile, they may have been good at making trenches but trench warfare was quite simply beyond their comprehension

Napoleon the Aardvark was a single minded beast and remained focused on his plans for world domination through his younger years, but he had a secret admirer a young Aardvark called Josephine. Josephine was an aristocratic Aardvark who lived a life of luxury and had rather expensive and unusual taste, particularly in what she ate. In fact she insisted in only eating cake, all kinds of cake from Victoria sandwich to coffee and walnut or fruit cakes to Apple upside down cake covered in cream and hundreds and thousands.

She would often try and gain the attention of Napoleon by taking various cakes to him at sunset and once even took a loaf of bread, a commodity of great rareness in those days. But it was to no avail, Napoleon the Aardvark was a man of few words and he would look down on the cake and say to Josephine in his gruff moody voice  . . . . . . .AH . .  NOT TERMITE JOSEPHINE . . . .

In the end Josephine got fed up with Napoleon and ran off with Lenin the Aardvark although it was not to last due to his rather austere outlook on life, but at the time folk were worried that Napoleon would be dead annoyed. But Napoleon was philosophical and told his friends  . . . LET LEN EAT CAKE   

HAH AH AH HA HAHah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hah a ha ha hah ah ah ha ha ha hah ah.


OOOOooo its JK Rowling Birthday in a couple of days so Cake is Good in fact I plan to eat some in a bit covered in Cream. . . .YUM