Whatever You May Call It
A Fairy-Tale For All Ages
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (I don’t know where you live, but it was most probably far far away from there), a long, long, long time ago (again, I don’t know when you live, but let’s just assume that it was long ago from then), there lived a little whatchamacallit named Whatsizname. Now, Whatsizname was a very lonely whatchamacallit, as he lived on a lonely mountain all by himself, called Whatsthenameofthatplaceagain. Now, in a normal setting, at this point in the story, he would have set out to make his fortune, but unfortunately (due to a spell cast by an ugly witch), he couldn’t. Actually, I’ll be fair with you, it wasn’t because of an ugly witch, and for it to be cast by an ugly witch would be stereotypical and racist. The witch I’m dating is really quite pretty, and the warts just add another dimension to the face. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the spell was cast by a witch that was really quite pretty, but had a grudge against whatchamacallits, as one of them (who was racist against witches, like a lot of people) had killed her great-great-great uncle. So you could say that she was racist because someone else was racist, which kind of makes sense in a backwards-forwards kind of a way, and sadly happens all too often. Now, where was I again? Oh yes. This witch, whose name was Whateveryoumaycallmeidontmind, had cast a spell, so that Whatsizname couldn’t leave the lonely mountain. To be quite honest, it didn’t really make much of a difference, as the lonely mountain was surrounded by sharp cliffs on all sides, so Whateveryoumaycallmeidontmind had really had a bit of a wasted effort.
So, Whatsizname called up the witch on one of those ancient dially phone thingies, as this was the olden days, when I was a lad, when new-fangled electonicy mobility phomes, or whatever you call them, weren’t around, and dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and Plesiosaurs roamed the sea, and Pterodactyls roamed the sky, and I roamed around my house, looking for something to do while trying to avoid my mother, who wanted me to do the dishwasher. Ah, yes, when I were a lad, when King Arthur and his knights went around killing lots of dragons, which I’m sure is really against the law, and saving damsels in distress (which I think is not against the law, but don’t blame me if you get arrested for it, I’m not a blooming lawyer), although I do recall that, one time, it was the damsel who saved King Arthur and Sir Laughalot and Sir Cumference, and all those others from the dragon…
Ah, it was a beautiful sunny June day, the sort of which you don’t tend to get any more, and as I happened to be walking along the road, I happened upon fair Guinevere.
“I hope that the winds of fortune have shone fair upon you of late, o Guinevere,” I said, for that was the way you talked in those far off and ancient times (why, it must have been 2006, at least. Practically prehistoric!).
“Alas, no!” she said, a bonny young lass as she was, with her spots and tempers and pimples and such, “For my fair Arthur hath been taken away by a most terrible dragon, along with the most faithful of his knights, Sir Laughalot, Sir Cumference, and Sir Sillyhead!”
Of course, hearing that, what else could I do but jump up on my horse (for nobody had cars back then), and, with Guinevere following along behind in her 20-volt deluxe Super-Land-Rover 2000, ride off to the Incredibly Old Forest, where the Dragon of Terrorroror and Doooooom, who had long ago sacrificed semantic legibility for uniqueness’ sake, lived. Along the way, Guinevere tried to scare me with tales of his fearsomeness and might, but I just told myself that they were exaggerations, until I came face to face with… The Dragon of Terrorroror and Doooooom!
“Raaaargh,” said the Dragon, and snatched me up and hid me in the highest tower, along with King Arthur himself, and his three faithful knights to boot: Sir Laughalot, Sir Cumference, and Sir Sillyhead.
“Hello,” I said, “Bit stuffy up ’ere, innit?”
“Yeah,” said Arthur, “Ooh, look! I just gained two hundred XP on Angry Mammals! How cool is that!?”
“Ooh!” I said, “Very cool indeed!”
And so everyone crowded around Arthur’s mobile phone, to watch him. He was a veritable master at angry mammals.
Meanwhile, down on the ground, Guinevere was just about to save us all, when…
“Stand aside, fair lady,” said a man dressed all in green, “I can handle this. Keep filming, Friar, I want to see how awesome I look! I will defeat this dragon with my triumph and might and natural awesomeness!”
It was Robin Hood! Deftly plucking his arrow from his quiver, he took aim at the dragon, but unfortunately, he had misjudged his balance, and fell off the land rover. With one fell swoop, the dragon picked up Robin, and all the Merry Men, too, except Friar Tuck, who was still filming with his mobile phone. Now Robin Hood and the Merry Men were up with us in the tower as well! They all gathered round to watch Arthur playing Angry Mammals, except for Robin Hood, who was sulking in the corner because King Arthur had a mobile phone, and his Mum wouldn’t let him have one.
Down on the ground, Guinevere, again, was trying to save everybody, when…
“Stand aside, Guinny,” said an old man with a long white beard in a blue cloak, “I can handle this! Ibbity abbity obbity ong!”
It was Merlin the Wizard! Unfortunately, he tripped over his beard, got the spell wrong, and was turned into a rather dismal frog with a pointy hat.
“Crrrrroak!” he said. Once more, the dragon snatched him up, and put him in the tower, where he went into the opposite corner as Robin, and sulked, because he didn’t want to be a frog, which was kind of irrational, considering how cool frogs are.
Finally, Guinevere could get round to saving us all. Picking up her bow and arrow, she took careful aim, and fired.
Whoooooooooosh! Wham! Crumble!
The tower came crashing down, with everyone inside.
“Men!” said Guinevere, with a harrumph, and walked off into the forest. Unfortunately, she wasn’t looking where she was going, stepped on a spring-board, and shot up into the air, over the Incredibly Old Forest, built back in the days when men still wore bits of fur instead of underpants, and the women wore I don’t know what, and everybody was a lot hairier and shorter, and the Wii hadn’t even been invented yet, only the SNES, and the lion still had his fearsome roar, and was really and truly King. The Lion, who I just told you about, was named Asplydon, and was the mightiest and fiercest King for miles (which wasn’t particularly surprising, as he was the only King for miles), and crushed his enemies under his paws (and occasionally his friends, for he was a bit short-sighted). He had a magnificent orange mane, which he washed with the red, red mud from the banks of the Sunny Watering River, where warthogs played and lambs gambolled and mallards did quite unspeakable things to each other, to make it even more magnificent (although it smelled something dreadful). For this reason, his wife had a most terrible time, and one day, said, “Right! That’s it! I’m off to visit my Great-Aunt-Petulia!” (for in those days, you had relatives here, there, and everywhere), packed up, and left. Asplydon, as his wife had done before him, had a most terrible time, and before long, the house was an absolute tip!
“Oh my paws and whiskers!” he moaned, “Whatever am I to do? Here am I, all alone, in a house that smells most horribly, and is coated with mud and dirt and muck, and neither Minecraft nor the Switch is invented, so I have nothing to do except play Super Mario Bros!”
Then, he had an idea.
“Aha!” he thought, for in those days, lions thought aloud, “Aha!” he thought again, for he was a forgetful sort of lion, and had forgotten that he had already said it. “Aha!” he said a third time, as he had now forgotten what he was going to say after the “Aha!”. “Aha!” he said for a fourth time, and this time he absolutely, definitely knew what he was going to — “Aha!” The “Aha!”s were getting increasingly desperate. Then, at last — “Aha!” cried Asplydon, with considerable relief, “I know what I shall do. I shall entice my beautiful wife back somehow!… Aha! I’ll build her a forest! Everyone loves forests! She’s sure to come back!”
He called in his courtiers, his portiers, and daughtiers. He called in his servants, and his nerve ants, and his Ervant¹. He called in the barons and baronesses, he called in the dukes and duchesses, he called in his great-great-great Uncle Fred. But still was he not satisfied. He called in the witches and the bitches² and the ditches. He called in wizards and lizards, and even blizzards (which weren’t very welcome in the court, I can tell you, and so left complaining bitterly after half an hour). He called in, and kept calling in, for at least two days. Half of his great, vast, mighty, and slightly smelly kingdom he called in, in the end, and soon an army of monkeys were working on a great forest to entice back Asplydon’s wife.
“Aha!” cried Asplydon, when he visited the forest, “This will surely entice back my Joanna! And, as it is a forest, and is also incredibly new, I shall call it The Incredibly New Forest!” (it was later renamed to the Incredibly Old Forest, as I’m sure you’ll have guessed).
However, Joanna, Asplydon’s wife, was too busy having a nice civilised Tea with Great-Aunt-Petulia, who had invited Cousin Edward, Cousin George, and Great-Great-Uncle-Baboon, and were all socialising nicely.
“Humph!” humphed Asplydon, for he was in a humphy sort of mood, “If that didn’t work, then I know what surely must! A castle!”
He called again. He called in all his horses and all his men, but they couldn’t put Humpty (whom he had also summoned) together again, so they had to get a different Structural Engineer. A Very Strict Building Official came, who was in charge of Building Permits, and asked Asplydon about papers. Asplydon punched the Very Strict Building Official on the nose, and asked who was next. The next was a Previously Very Strict Building Official Who Had Seen What Had Just Happened To The Last One And Had Suddenly Decided To Become Very Cooperative And Hand Out Building Permits Hither, Whither, And Also, Wait For It, Thither. Asplydon got his building permit, and everyone was happy (except for the Very Strict Building Official, who never really recovered, and spent the rest of his days being Very Kind to everybody that he met, although he did have a sort of tendency to run a mile and a half if ever he saw a lion). So the castle was built (and would later be collapsed by Guinevere, the story of which you have already heard), and was all ready to tempt in wives.
Joanna, however, was having great fun with Great-Aunt-Petulia at the circus, and had just won a big teddy bear.
Asplydon gave up, and sat down and cried and cried and cried. He cried for two weeks and a half, then double that amount, and then double that amount again. He cried, in total, for forty days and forty nights, and Mr Noah had to build an Ark, and pack all of the animals in the world into it (except for Joanna and Great-Aunt-Petulia, who were at a knitting class, which seemed to be more of knotting-class). Asplydon, of course, counted as one of those animals, and he was piled onto the ark with the rest. For forty days, Mr Noah let him be, until one day, he said, “Look, Asplydon, I know that you’re upset over the whole wife thing, but maybe you could move on now, and forget it? I have a very nice wife here that you could marry instead.”
Asplydon wiped his tears, said thank you to Mr Noah (for it always pays to be polite to Prophets), and married the wife that Mr Noah had provided, despite the somewhat dubious ethics of the situation which we shall simply brush under the carpet for now because this is a fairy tale and god forbid we touch on challenging themes. And Asplydon and his new wife lived happily ever after in the new castle, except for the wife, and Joanna lived happily ever after with Great-Aunt-Petulia, and Mr Noah died happily ever after in bed, sometime later, and Humpty Dumpty, one day, magically turned into a magical butterfly.
“That’s odd,” said Humpty, “One minute in fragments on the floor, the next, a magical butterfly. I wonder what sort of magic I can do now.”
So he magicked himself into the future, surprising as he did so Whatsizname, the little whatchamacallit, as he dialled the fifteenth number of the witch’s telephone number (witches have long telephone numbers; the more senior the witch, the longer the telephone number).
“Hullo,” he said, “I’m a magical butterfly named Humpty Dumpty,”
“I can see that,” said Whatsizname, “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Humpty Dumpty.
So Whatsizname put the kettle on, and they both went into his cave, and had Tea and Cake.
“What about a story?” said Whatsizname, when they were all cosy with their tea.
“What about a story?” asked Humpty Dumpty the magical butterfly, his wings flashing all different colours, being raunchy like that.
“How about we have one?” said Whatsizname.
“Very well then,” said Humpty, “Here we go.”
Once upon a time, when grass grew on the trees and leaves grew on the ground, in a far-off land named Lak-Lak, there lived a little boy named Rumplestiltskin (for that was a very common name at the time).
One day, Rumplestiltskin was on a walk through a forest, when he noticed a mossy glen full of nasty vicious little fairies! Of course, he ran away just as fast as he could, but it was no use! The fairies caught him, and pinned him to the ground with the grass of the Jumblenot Tree.
“Little boy for eating, bones and teeth and skin,” sang one fairy in the sweetest little voice you ever did hear, smiling softly, eyes gleaming in a very wild sort of a fashion, “Hear him screech and squeal, as we take his flesh within!”
“No!” cried another, “Play first!”
“No,” said the largest and eldest of the fairies, who was obviously the leader, slowly, and evilly, “What we should do is, we should boil him and eat him… Alive!”
All the fairies thought that this was a brilliant idea, and, of course, as soon as Rumplestiltskin heard this, he wanted to get away (although he had also wanted to get away before). But he was tied down by the grass of the Jumblenot Tree too tight!
“Aha!” laughed the leader-fairy wickedly, “See how the prey doth struggle! He soon shall be struggling much more!”
“Let’s go and light the fire!” said another.
So off those wicked and evil fairies went. As soon as they were out of sight, there was a flash of light, and a shining woman appeared.
“Hello, dear,” she said, kindly, “I’m your fairy godmother. You get three wishes. Hurry up, dear, I haven’t got all day.”
“Wow!” said Rumplestiltskin, “Right. First, I wish that I wasn’t pinned to the ground.”
“Granted!” said the Fairy Godmother, snapping her fingers. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t tied down any more!
“Secondly, I wish for us to be far, far away from these fairies.”
“Granted!” said the Fairy Godmother again, snapping her fingers once more.
The Fairy Godmother and Rumplestiltskin appeared in Whatsizname’s kitchen!
“And the last wish?” asked the Fairy Godmother.
“Not sure, really,” said Rumplestiltskin.
“Well, that’s okay, dear,” said the Fairy Godmother, “Maybe Humpty and Whatsizname here will let us have tea with them?”
“Of course,” said Whatsizname, “I’ll just go and put the kettle on,”
“Hello,” said Humpty Dumpty, “I’m a magical butterfly.”
“I can see that!” said Rumplestiltskin.
“Rooibos or Earl Grey?” called Whatsizname from the kitchen.
“Cup of each, please, dear!” called back the Fairy Godmother, “With two sugars!”
“Milk?”
“No milk!”
“Right! I’m doing it now!”
Soon, everybody was sitting at the table, drinking tea, and eating cake and biscuits.
After they had finished, the Fairy Godmother suggested a walk.
“Alas, no!” said Whatsizname, and explained why.
“Spells and cliffs are no matter to me!” said the Fairy Godmother. They all walked outside, she waved her wand, and a glittering bridge was made from the little ridge that Whatsizname lived on to the wider world outside… Just in time for Guinevere to land on it!
“Oh dear, dear!” said the Fairy Godmother, “Are you all right?”
(“Deer?” said Humpty, confused, “Where?”)
“Uurgh!” said Guinevere.
“I’ll take that as a no, dear,” said the Fairy Godmother. She sighed. “I’ll just have to use some more magic, I’m afraid.”
She waved her wand, but it didn’t work, as it had run out of battery.
“Bother!” she said, “That blasted charger never works! And I spifficly told him to keep still, as well. It really is too bad!”
“Ah, well,” said Humpty Dumpty, “I’ll just have to use my magic butterfly powers to make Guinevere all better.”
So he did, and they all went for a walk. On their walk, they met a dragon, who said, “Excuse me, Sirs and Madams, but do you have such a thing as a balloon about you?”
“A balloon, dear?” asked the Fairy Godmother, “I can’t say that I do,”
But Guinevere had been to a party the week before, and had taken back two of the balloons, a red one, and a green one.
“Which one would you rather have?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t really mind,” said the dragon.
“Have them both, if you want,” said Guinevere, “I’ve got my tap-dancing lesson later, and I don’t think they’ll be much of a help.”
“Thank you very much!” said the dragon.
“Did you say tap-dancing, dear?” said the Fairy Godmother.
“Yes, I did,” said Guinevere.
So they all went back to Whatsizname’s house, and they tap-danced the night away, and they slept all of the next day, and lived happily ever after until the very next day, and that was the end of the story, and where did I put my toothbrush?
¹ His son.
² For any mummies and daddies reading this, this is definitely referring to the anatomical term for a female dog. Nothing else.
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