Tag Archives: royalty

1659. Ouch!

(Grateful thanks to Keith for producing the opening sentence.)

Ouch!

Much surely should have been written about what exactly did Mary, Queen of Scots, say when the first stroke of the axe missed her neck and hit her on the back of the head. Of course, the second blow severed the neck, except for a small bit of sinew, which the executioner cut through using the axe.

There have been, or should have been, many theories as to what she intended to say. All that was passed down verbally was that she was heard to utter OW! when the first blow of the axe struck.

Some claim that what she was intending to say was a quotation from a psalm: “OUr days are no more than a watch in the night.” Others say it was to confess to wearing a wig: “OUr hair is not our own.” Still others maintain that she was going to say something in French, which certainly confirms her guilt in all matters.

But a British Lord has come up with a novel explanation. She simply intended to say said “Ouch!” I mean, who wouldn’t?

1326. A handsome prince or two

Bodice and Eunice were two relatively unattractive princesses who were into hats in a big way. They were sisters.

One day a handsome prince came to the castle and Bodice and Eunice were on their best behaviour – he was so handsome. Bodice wore a large hat with fruit on it, whereas Eunice’s hat sported pinecones and fluffy rabbits’ tails. The handsome prince found them relatively unattractive (both the princesses and the hats). When he was offered the hand of either one in marriage he almost spewed his guts out.

He threw a golden ring into the castle’s huge goldfish pond, and said he would marry whoever found the ring – princess or not.

Bodice and Eunice set to work, draining the fishpond and gutting all the fish. No luck. The ring was not to be found. There were fish guts everywhere, and the place stank.

The brother of Bodice and Eunice, whose name was Bevan (you haven’t heard anything of him until now) was walking along near the fishpond, and he saw a man hiding behind a bush.

“Pssst!” said the man behind the bush. He gave Bevan the golden ring. “Show this to the handsome prince.”

The handsome prince was called forth. Bevan showed him what he had been given. The handsome prince looked remarkably like the man behind the bush.

They lived happily ever after.

1289. Snob

The Queen of the country made an important announcement: next Thursday she would turn up with her entourage at any house in the kingdom – chosen at random – and have dinner.

Goodness me! Did the country go into a flap? Every household prepared a sumptuous dinner. Windows were cleaned, toilet bowls were brushed, everything was spick and span. What if the Queen came to our little house?

All were ready except apparently for Tommy Ursendoff in his little house in the country. “If she comes here she can sod off,” said Tommy Ursendoff. “I’ll give her a raw carrot and tell her to shove it. I’m not bowing and scraping to some pretentious old git. If she was going to pay, that would be another story altogether.”

You already know, gentle reader, that the inevitable will happen. Out of the millions of houses in the Kingdom, whose house should be chosen at random? Why of course! Lady Brackenbury-ffodalia-Battenberg-Courtney-Weasal was chosen. She was a personal friend of the monarch. Her husband was an Earl. The Queen had a wonderful time devouring fresh strawberries floating in a vanilla sauce.

In the meantime, Tommy Ursendoff had much to say: “She did not come here because she doesn’t like to piss into yesterday’s toilet bowl. She’s a snob of the highest order.”

837. The royal pig

837pig

Once there was a beautiful princess, called Gabriellina. Her hair shone golden as the sun. Her skin was white as fresh snow. Her lips were as red as a ripe near-rotting nectarine. Her breasts (As The Songs of Songs might say) were like a couple of sheep coming out of a sheep dip. This overall combination strikes me as quite ugly, but she wasn’t. She was… woof, woof, woof.

Her father, the king, had promised her hand in marriage to a pig. A pig! A real oink oink oink pig. Not a human being who acted like a pig, but a hog. One that makes bacon. A real grunting boar.

“You never know,” said the king. “The pig is possibly the victim of some horrible spell caste by a gruesome witch. He is really a handsome prince. The spell will be broken when my beautiful princess marries him.”

The wedding was arranged. The kingdom celebrated. There were street parties and everything.

The princess appeared on the balcony with her newly married pig. They kissed. The pig turned into a frog.

125. Norman’s Invasion

125norman

Norman was the father of seven when his wife died. He brought them up on his own. They were all extraordinary children; sporty, intelligent, generous.

Eadlin specialised at Cambridge University in Celtic languages. She could speak Irish, Scottish Gaelic and Welsh, and was working towards a doctorate in traditional Cornish poetry. She was an extraordinarily good viola player, as well as representing her country in women’s high jump at the Olympics. It was no surprise when the British heir to the throne, Prince George, fell in love with her. They were married at Westminster Abbey and half the world fell in love with the future Queen Eddie.

Of course, at the wedding there were Royals from all over the place. And so it happened that Eadlin’s six siblings mingled with sovereigns and their children:

Giles met Princess Benedikte-Elisabeth, the heir to the Danish throne. They eventually married.

Holly met Prince Guillaume François, the heir in Belgium. They eventually married.

Xavier met Princess Catharina, the heir in the Netherlands. They eventually married.

Bonnie met Prince Pablo, the heir to the Spanish throne. They eventually married.

Zachary met Princess Estelle, the heir to the Swedish throne. They eventually married.

Sonja didn’t meet anyone special at Eadlin’s wedding. She later found her true love when the plumber came to fix the sink in her apartment.

Norman, their father, was delighted. The Press referred to it as Norman’s Invasion. No one knew that six of his seven children (Sonja was the exception) carried an incurable gene that caused madness.