Once upon a time
in an enchanted kingdom there was a very large castle which was of the purest ivory white. The castle
had turrets that were so high their peaks were completely hidden by the inoffensive fluffy white clouds that graced the blue
In the castle there resided a very old king with a very beautiful daughter called Mucus. Princess Mucus, as the king had
no son, was the heiress to the throne but she was, as polite people used to say, somewhat intellectually challenged. The
gods had certainly blessed her with the grace and beauty of a dew moistened cherry orchard on a spring morning, but when
the brain cells were handed out poor Mucus was off somewhere powdering her tiny wee nose. She was thick as pig shit.
The very old king had only days left and was becoming increasingly concerned about the future of his country. Mucus
was a sweet girl, granted, but the very old king had some well substantiated doubts as to her abilities when it came to ruling
the people of the kingdom.
He had to act fast, but how?
He had already seen to it that Mucus had had the best tutors in the land, but it had done no good. One by one he had had
them beheaded for failing to grace the child with even the smallest square inch of intelligence.
There was only one thing he had not tried and his blood ran cold at the very thought.
Teaching had failed, schooling had failed, screaming and shouting and pleasant persuasion had failed. Bribery and
extreme violence had failed. There was only one thing left.
The king summoned all the most warty-faced witches and wizards in his kingdom and told each of them his wish. Each
tried their darkest powers but Princess Mucus still couldn't spell her own name or that of her cat And.
Eventually there was only one wizard left to try. His name was the Reverend Lucifer Bat-Sputum and he was greatly
feared in the kingdom for his deep involvement in the satanic arts and his luminous yellow pointy teeth.
"I will educate Mucus," cackled the hideously deformed dwarfish wizard, "Give her to me and I will return her to you in
seven days with the brain of a queen."
Mucus went to the wizard's cave and the process began. Seven days later she was returned to the king.
The king asked her, "Mucus, what is the square root of seven thousand and forty seven?"
Mucus answered correctly.
"She is cured," he shouted, "I will give you anything you want. Name your heart's desire, Mr. Sputum."
"Well . . . " said the wizard, "Could I have some Spam?"
The king gave the wizard some Spam and then died.
The princess smiled. She hadn't been cured at all! The wizard had
merely asked Satan what question the king was going to ask her and then spent seven days teaching her the answer.
Bugger me, was she stupid!
Shortly after the death of the king a giant meteor crashed into the kingdom and everything got squished and killed, so it
was all irrelevant afterall. I should imagine that the poor king would turn in his grave if he knew what had been going on
behind his back.