Camelot

 

And so it came to pass that one day King Uther Pendragon of Camelot died, and his son, Prince Arthur, was to be crowned King of Camelot. All the preparations were ready. Archbishop Pray-A-Lot had been summoned to conduct the ceremony. The celebration cake had been prepared by Sir Rising Yeast the owner of the shop The Baker’s Dozen. Sir Gassy Trumpet was ordered to prepare the music for the ceremony together with his orchestra Discordant Medieval Cacophony. All that remained in the preparation for the coronation was to try on the crown on young Arthur’s head.

Prince Arthur put it on, but since his head was slightly larger than that of his father, Uther, the crown got stuck on his head and would not come off. Try as he might, Arthur could not pull the crown off his head any more.

The beautiful servant Genevieve heard the Prince’s cries and fearing he was being attacked entered his chambers and found him struggling to get the crown off. “What are you doing here?” shouted Arthur angrily, “get out … get out and forget what thou hast seen! Be out with thee wench!”

“I beg thy humble pardon, my Master and Prince, King-to-be,” said Genevieve trembling in fear, “I didst not know nor foretell that thou wouldst be in the shower with no accoutrement or clothing on whatsoever, as the day thou were borne. In all honour and honesty I vouch and promise thee that I have not observed, nor admired, the majestic jewels that thou possessest. Such treasures be they for your eyes only and the one thou choosest in due course to be thy bride.”

By the time she said all this, Genevieve had seen and memorised more than one can imagine of the Prince’s crown jewels. She had a photographic memory even though digital cameras had not yet been invented either.

(That’s the problem with Medieval Englande; by the time you finish talking in old style language you have seen more of the Prince’s naked body than you should have. What’s wrong with saying “Sorry!” and just get out? Anyway, the Prince was resolute, pragmatic and cold. Mostly cold.)

He said, “you might as well stay now, and help me get this crown off!” as he put on his dressing-gown. He bent his head down a little as she pulled and pulled at the crown violently in order to wrench it off his head, all the time keeping her eyes fixed on the crown jewels. Try as she might, she could not get it off. Then, in an almighty effort to break the crown free her hands slipped and she flew backwards out of the window and fell on Botox the old warlock dislocating his left shoulder. At this point, hearing all the commotion, Merlin the young wizard enters Prince Arthur’s chambers.

“Can’t you knock?” asked the Prince in shorthand modern English. Amazing how quickly they learn!

“The door was wide open for all to see!” replied Merlin just as short and abruptly.

“Help me get this crown off,” said Arthur.

Merlin pretended to pull the crown off, but secretly he chanted a magic spell under his breath in order to make the crown a little larger and easier to get off. And that’s where it all went wrong; because Merlin must have chanted the wrong spell. Suddenly, the wrong magic spell, made Arthur’s hair grow very long and very fast and very curly. Not only on his head, but all over his body. On his face, on his chest, under his arms and in places where you would rather not have a forest of long curly hair. He looked like a large stuffed Teddy Bear.

What’s more, the hair kept changing colour. One moment it was black, then red, then blue, white, green, yellow and so on with all colours of the rainbow and more besides. And the moral of this story, (so far), is: Do not use a magic spell to dye your hair. Use a well-known brand of hair dye instead! 

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