Bit Of A Change

Up until now, I have been publishing my writing in this section of the blog. 

But I have realised it's really not designed for supporting permanent items. It's quite hard to present stories in a way that's easy to find and easy to recognise what might interest you. So I have made "pages" which are categorised by subject. At least the visitor now stands a chance of finding something interesting and hopefully, amusing.

It also gives me a chance to air some of my more outrageous views on Life the Universe and Everything - which is nice (at least it is for me).

For example, I have been trying to make up my mind which way to vote in the forthcoming AV referendum. Well, I have decided. I will be voting No. I think there are valid arguments both ways. But seeing assorted luvvies gathering round the Yes cause finally made up my mind.

Why is it somebody who is quite good at acting or telling jokes or singing thinks their opinion on politics is worth a damn?  Can't understand it.   

Anyway . . . The writing I am going to showcase this April is a piece I wrote about a Dragon Slayer. Everybody loves a fairy story, and this is my attempt. Hope you enjoy it.

(Showcase - doesn't that sound grand! It really just means it's going on the front page) 


Sir Trevor of Dewerlaigne

It was late afternoon by the time Trevor reached the Castle.

The day had been hot and the road dusty. He needed a drink. His sword belt slipping from his hip dragged its scabbard on the ground. The shining breast plate that had looked so dashing when he first wore it was now just hot, heavy and dirty.

He trudged up to the front of the great wall that reared from the countryside like a massive cliff, towards huge oak doors studded with bronze nails. Quite suddenly he realised there was a moat. It had been hidden from the roadway by a rise in the ground, but it was quite clear now. The water was black, sullen and still, the drawbridge firmly up.

"Bloody hell!" He said out loud. "All ruddy day I've been walking and when I finally get here no bloody dragon! In fact, no bugger at all!" He sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother."

The castle was quite deserted and still. Casting a sinister pall over the surrounding countryside. But Trevor was not daunted by this fearsome place and he shouted a challenge at those dark walls.

"Oi! Anybody there! Come on, Let's be 'aving you!" But no sound came from those tall grim walls, save the dying echo of his own brave challenge. So, reluctantly, the courageous Trevor decided to walk around the castle by the edge of the moat to see if there was another entrance to this place of doom. The grass was long and overgrown away from the main gate, and he spoke softly to himself to keep up his spirits as he toiled through the undergrowth.

"All this bloody way - Think he'd at least have the decency to put in an appearance. Ouch! - Bloody nettles. That's all I need - Where's the bloody dock leaves" And so on.

After about half an hour the grass became a smooth green sward, a lawn stretching from the moat away to a distant wood. From the black stone wall a round tower swelled. High in the tower was a large open window, and a low rumbling, like the purring of a gigantic cat, indicated that the dragon was at home. Trevor peered up at that sinister black hole; and for just a moment even his stout heart quailed. Dragons were not to be trifled with. Then resolutely shrugging his shoulders, he called up to that dark tower.

"Oi, dragon, come out and fight!" There was no reaction. "I said, come out and fight! You in there, you got cloth ears or something!" He was now screaming at the top of his voice. "OI, OI COME ON NOW. I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE."

There was a loud snorting as the dragon awoke. A voice, deep and filled with menace spoke unseen from the window.

"Who's making all that bloody noise?" It said.

"At last." Breathed Trevor quietly, then loudly he said "It is I, Trevor of Dewerlaigne. Come to challenge you, foul worm"

"Drury Lane! Are you kidding? And not so much of the 'foul worm' if you don't mind."

"Dewerlaigne. It's just down the road a bit from Camelot. Look, you coming out to fight or what!"

There was a sound like chain mail being dragged across the ground, and a terrible face appeared at the window. The dragon was indeed a prince of his kind. His scales were brilliant green and his eyes burned red like hot coals. Sir Trevor took an involuntary step backwards as the dragon looked him up and down. As it opened its mouth to speak, small wisps of black smoke trailed from its mighty throat.

"Bugger off." It said shortly, and disappeared.

Trevor was mortally insulted; and maybe just a little relieved. The result was never in doubt of course, but dragons are tricky animals. Even quite a small one can give you a nasty burn, and the big ones can turn very unpleasant indeed.

He started to walk across the lawn towards the wood, when an uncomfortable thought began to nag at him.

"Trouble is," He thought. "They're not going to believe this back at the village." He stopped and scratched his chin. "I can say the dragon was too scared to fight, and in any case he'd already eaten the virgins, but," He looked down at his now grubby breast plate, "I don't think they'd buy it. I can see me gettin' a bit of stick over this, particularly now I've spent the money." He also did not relish the idea of meeting the lady who commissioned him without a rather more substantial story. "Say what you like." He pondered. "But I never heard of District nurse with a pointy hat and a black cat following her everywhere," He started reluctantly back towards the tower. There was only one way to get the dragon out: The Insult.

He was a little nervous about using it. dragons were notoriously touchy at the best of times, but The Insult drove them quite insane.

"OK You. . ."  He stopped. His voice had somehow come out high and squeaky. He cleared his throat and started again. "Ahem. OK Dragon." (He felt he knew It well enough to use a capital 'D') "OK Dragon, this is your last chance. COME OUT AND FIGHT"' There was a long pause. Then a dreadful voice spoke from inside the dark tower.

"Not you again. Can't you take a hint. There's people trying to sleep up here. Why don't you be a good lad and push off"

"Right then." Said Trevor softly. "You asked for it." He took a deep breath, then said very loudly. "COME OUT AND FIGHT YOU - LIZARD!"

There was a loud gasp from inside the room. Then a strangulated cry and, finally, a deafening roar of fury. Black smoke poured from the window, and an anguished cry.

"OH NO! I'VE ONLY GONE AND BURNED ME BLOODY CURTAINS! I'll kill you for this you little toe rag."

The great green beast burst from the window, scattering masonry from the wall, as it flew in a sweeping circle to land on the lawn in front of Trevor. Stones crashed into the moat beside them. The Dragon stared at Trevor, its red eyes burning into his very soul.

"It took me six months to get them curtains!" It screamed. "Have you ever tried to get anything from Habitat's mail order department? Out of stock, they say. Back in a few weeks, they say. Then when they finally send them. . . Wrong bleedin' colour, so it's back on the phone and the whole bloody thing starts again! I get it all sorted out at long last, then you come along and - Whoosh the whole soddin' goes up in smoke. Stroll on!" He glanced up at the window where smoke was still curling lazily around the remains of the lintel. "And look at me window! Do you have any idea just how difficult it is getting a proper brickie round here? Every bleedin' Pikey in the county'll be round here now:
'just passing Soir, and I noticed yers got a little problem with yers window Soir. Oi can easily fix that fer yer Soir, foive tousand quid orter just cover it Soir.'
But try and find a proper builder, real craftsman, you can't do it. Dying breed y'see"

Trevor thought this a bit rich coming from a dragon, but he said nothing. The beast was calming down and becoming quite melancholy.

"It's the same with the virgins. Can't remember the last time I tasted one. They give you all this old toffee about how they only tried it once and didn't really like it, but It's not the same. I blame the parents myself. Now I got some snotty nosed little berk calling me. . ." He shuddered, and glared at Trevor. "A. . .Lizard"

The Dragon moved a step nearer to Trevor and opened its huge jaws. A great billow of smoke and fire burst forth. Trevor leapt back just in time, but he felt the stinging heat roll over him. Black pungent smoke engulfed him and he felt his eyebrows singeing. As the smoke drifted away he emerged, face and breast plate blackened with soot, eyes watering and throat gasping for air.

"Hold on a minute." He spluttered. "I wasn't ready. I haven't even got me bleedin' sword out yet!" So saying he drew the mighty broad sword from his side. It got a bit stuck at the end because his arms were not quite long enough, but he finally managed to wrest it from its scabbard. "That's better." He said. "Now, come on then. . . Let's be 'avening yer."  He stood, sword in both hands legs firmly braced apart and waited for the onslaught.

But the Dragon was suddenly reticent. It cocked its great head on one side and looked at suspiciously with a single malevolent red eye.

"Hang on a minute." It said. "Where did you say you came from?"

"Dewerlainge." Said Trevor. "It's just outside Camelot. Well about fifteen miles outside actually. It's not exactly handy for the Castle, but have you seen the prices in Camelot! My Gawd! Do you know, a friend of mine's got this little place, I mean it's nice but nothing special, know what I mean? He gave two goats for it, must be oh ... three or four years ago. Now he reckons he could get a whole flock of sheep! I mean, what chance has a young squire Just starting out got? I blame the shepherds myself. If they weren't so free with their bleedin' livestock there just wouldn't be the ovine around to pay for it, would there?"

"Never mind all that! How come we're both speaking English?"

Trevor looked uncomfortable. He stared at his feet, then started to fidget with his pommel. He tried a show of bravado.

"Look! You scared or something are you? Let's get this over with!" He waved his sword in the air.

"Not so bloody fast, you little toad." Said the Dragon. "It's all beginning to fall into place. I must have eaten a dozen or so fully loaded, genuine knights over the last year or so. And very good they were too, apart from that chain mail stuff that gets stuck in your teeth. Now, suddenly, I'm confronted by some raggedy arsed little tit with his Dad's sword, who can't wait to have a go. We are in a bloody story, aint we?"

"Might be." Said Trevor defensively.

"I bloody thought so!" Roared the Dragon. "No wonder you're so bleedin' eager. Can't lose can you? I mean, when does the Dragon ever win in a story?"

"Could do." Said Trevor without conviction.

"Leave it out." The Dragons voice was heavy with scorn. "What! Do you think I was born yesterday? My old mate Smaug was all right for hundreds of years. Hundreds! Then some silly sod puts him in a story, and ... Phhhut! A Hobbit does him in. A hobbit!! I ask you, is that sense? Ridiculous. But these writers got no reason. Out of touch. What can you do?"

"Does this mean we don't get to fight?" Said Trevor forlornly.

"Do me a favour, Sonny! What do you think I am? I might be a bit green but I'm not a bleedin' cabbage!" So saying the Dragon opened its great leathery wings and with a mighty rush of air sprang into the sky. As it climbed away towards the high tower, Trevor casually tossed his sword at the beast in frustration. The sword leapt through the air like a mighty Javelin, speeding towards its target it slashed the Dragons side as it passed. Only a last minute twist of its body prevented the Dragon's black heart from being pierced.

"See what I mean!" It screamed down at the opened mouthed Trevor. "No sense of reason! Bloody useless, the lot of them" The Dragon alighted sulkily on top of the tower and as it did so, vast black clouds began to gather in the west.

Trevor saw the thunder heads roiling and boiling as the clouds drew ever nearer. He could already hear the roll of distant thunder and see brilliant streaks of lightning under lighting the dark belly of the cloudscape. In no time the storm was upon them. The thunder crashed with an unbearable din and forked tongues of lightning split the sky.

The Castle was lit in startling relief as blinding flashes of light flared In darkness. Trevor could see the Dragon silhouetted against the sky roaring its defiance to the storm. A great bolt of lightning struck the tower. For a moment the Dragon reared up, taller than before, clawing at the sky, alight with blue flame. Then slowly, like a mighty tree, it swayed and fell, crashing from the parapet as if in slow motion, out beyond the moat onto the lawn below. Behind him, the tower began to crumble. It slid slowly down, a landslide of hard rubble bridging the moat, exposing an open wound of half rooms and shattered staircases.

The Dragon was not dead yet. Trevor could hear its rasping breath as it struggled for words. He approached the smouldering hulk. He was a Christian man and thought that even the great evil that resided in this beast might be shriven at its last breath. He reached that giant head and listened for that final confession.

"Struck by bleedin' lightning." It gasped. "Talk about corny. Nobody's going to believe this load of balls."

"Look - About the virgins. . ." Said Trevor.

"Any minute now you're going to wake up and say "Oh gosh it was all a dream." I mean to say, what a load of rubbish! Look the bloody clouds have gone already. This is awful; he's never going to get published with stuff like this."

"About the virgins. You haven't eaten them already, have you?

"Couldn't face it mate. Why do you think they stayed virgins for so long?" Trevor looked puzzled and the Dragon gave a long heartfelt sigh.

"Rubbish." It said and breathed its last.

Trevor heard a shrill cry. He looked over to the bridge of rubble and could just make out two distant figures picking their way across the fallen masonry. As they drew closer he could soon discern two of the fattest women he had ever seen.

"Cooo eee." They shouted and waved.

"You the virgins!?" Said Trevor incredulously as soon as they were near enough.

"We are indeed, Brave Moor." Said the fattest one. "I'm Sharon and this is my friend, Tracy."

"Give us a kiss, handsome knight." Said Tracey. "You hear such stories about these black men; let's have look at your willy." She lunged at Trevor's groin but he side stepped neatly.

"Leave it out!" He said. "It's just soot."

"Oh." Sharon was clearly disappointed, but she quickly recovered her composure,  "Never mind. Give us a kiss anyway."

Trevor decided to head back to the village straight away. Much to the girls chagrin he insisted they kept going all night. As the trudged back he had to endure much 'accidental' rubbing of huge bosoms on his back, grotesque wiggling of acres of flesh and many none too subtle references to the fact that he had lost his sword.

When they finally sat down to rest he discovered that neither of them could cook and their main topic of conversation was the various cures for acne that they had tried. Although he could sympathise with the Dragons sensibilities, Trevor could not help feeling a bit annoyed that he hadn't even managed one of them.

By the morning they had reached the village and Trevor was given a hero's welcome by everyone. (Except the virgins' families who had been rather relieved to have got them off their hands and were a bit miffed that they had turned up again).

And they all lived happily ever after. Except Trevor who got turned into a frog by the District Nurse for pretending he had a wife and five children back home in Dewerlaigne. He was trying to avoid marrying one of the virgins, a long standing tradition for rescued maidens in those parts.

And although he wasn't exactly happy - on the whole, he still thought he'd got the best deal available.