Story at bedtime

[the village idiot]

The Idiot's new clothes

 

 

Once upon a time, in a land far far away there was a village called Flangefardon. It was just like a village one might encounter today in places like Somerset, with the typical array of characters such as the unimaginably wealthy log merchant with the chatty nature and for whom only the best will will do (assuming he can find out what it is!)

Amongst all the other Flangefardon characters was 'the village idiot'. He really was incredibly simple, and struggled to get his empty head around universally known concepts such as the fluidity of water.

After fishing the village idiot out of the duck pond for the 100th time the residents of Flangefardon had had enough and they banished him to the deep, dark woods, telling him not to return until he had learnt that a body of water will not support his weight, and just because cows spend many hours at a time eating grass and looking gormless it doesn't mean that he has to do it too!

To make his punishment especially harsh they also decreed that he must earn his crust by making charcoal, knowing only too well that only the most vacuous simpleton would even attempt such a hopeless task.

 

Despite the cruel intentions of his community, the village idiot was very happy in the woods. He found the resident pheasants to be very intellectually stimulating and there was plenty of grass to eat.

 

On One particular day the village idiot had lit the kiln and spent the morning attempting to recall the names of his siblings back in Flangefardon. It was past lunchtime before it dawned on him that he was an only child. (The village elders, after experiencing the product of his parents' carnal union had forbidden them any further physical contact for fear they might produce more of the same!)

After his post luncheon snooze he sat on an old Oak stump and watched the smoke billowing from the chimneys of the kiln. To his astonishment the whispy clouds began to form themselves into the shape of a rather portly foreign looking chap.

"Who in the name of Chegwin are you" blurted the idiot, dumbfounded.

"I am Gene the Genie" said the misty manifestation, and I grant you three wishes. Use them wisely".

"I've no idea what to wish for" said the idiot, racking his overstretched grey matter.

"How about some things to assist you in your daily tasks?" proffered the Genie helpfully.

"Ah yes, of course" chimed the village idiot. "Can I please have a signed photo of Count Duckula and a really big spoon"

 

Gene the Genie rolled his eyes, clapped his hands twice and out of nowhere there appeared a glossy print of the much loved waterborne superhero accompanied by a really big spoon.

The village idiot was busy examining his new possessions with undisguised glee when the Genie spoke once more.

"You have one wish remaining. I suggest you use it wisely. If I couldn't see that you are are several sandwiches short of a picnic I would have to assume you were taking the piss!"

 

The village idiot screwed up his face in intense concentration and for possibly the first time in his life came out with something vaguely sensible.

"I should very much like a new set of clothes-to include a suit of the finest leather to protect me when I walk into trees, a stout pair of boots to stop the badgers eating my feet, and a nice furry hat to keep my hair warm."

 

A fleeting look of panic flashed across the Genie's fleshy face. He was fairly new to the Genie-ing game and was unsure how garments such as these were supposed to look. He decided to refer back to his two previous clients for inspiration. Unfortunately for the village idiot these were Grizelda Grimbergen-Gorepants, seamstress in chief to Genghis Khan himself and Percy 'prefers to ride pillion' McProber, the only openly gay member of the Hell's Angels!

 

And thus was how the village idiot acquired his new clothes which he continues to wear to this day, blissfully safe in the knowledge that he is fully immune to the ravages of tree impacts, badger attack, and most terrifying of all... cold hair!

 

Night night.

[mendiplogs]

The Idiot's new clothes

 

 

Once upon a time, in a land far far away there was a village called Flangefardon. It was just like a village one might encounter today in places like Somerset, with the typical array of characters such as the unimaginably wealthy log merchant with the chatty nature and for whom only the best will will do (assuming he can find out what it is!)

Amongst all the other Flangefardon characters was 'the village idiot'. He really was incredibly simple, and struggled to get his empty head around universally known concepts such as the fluidity of water.

After fishing the village idiot out of the duck pond for the 100th time the residents of Flangefardon had had enough and they banished him to the deep, dark woods, telling him not to return until he had learnt that a body of water will not support his weight, and just because cows spend many hours at a time eating grass and looking gormless it doesn't mean that he has to do it too!

To make his punishment especially harsh they also decreed that he must earn his crust by making charcoal, knowing only too well that only the most vacuous simpleton would even attempt such a hopeless task.

 

Despite the cruel intentions of his community, the village idiot was very happy in the woods. He found the resident pheasants to be very intellectually stimulating and there was plenty of grass to eat.

 

On One particular day the village idiot had lit the kiln and spent the morning attempting to recall the names of his siblings back in Flangefardon. It was past lunchtime before it dawned on him that he was an only child. (The village elders, after experiencing the product of his parents' carnal union had forbidden them any further physical contact for fear they might produce more of the same!)

After his post luncheon snooze he sat on an old Oak stump and watched the smoke billowing from the chimneys of the kiln. To his astonishment the whispy clouds began to form themselves into the shape of a rather portly foreign looking chap.

"Who in the name of Chegwin are you" blurted the idiot, dumbfounded.

"I am Gene the Genie" said the misty manifestation, and I grant you three wishes. Use them wisely".

"I've no idea what to wish for" said the idiot, racking his overstretched grey matter.

"How about some things to assist you in your daily tasks?" proffered the Genie helpfully.

"Ah yes, of course" chimed the village idiot. "Can I please have a signed photo of Count Duckula and a really big spoon"

 

Gene the Genie rolled his eyes, clapped his hands twice and out of nowhere there appeared a glossy print of the much loved waterborne superhero accompanied by a really big spoon.

The village idiot was busy examining his new possessions with undisguised glee when the Genie spoke once more.

"You have one wish remaining. I suggest you use it wisely. If I couldn't see that you are are several sandwiches short of a picnic I would have to assume you were taking the piss!"

 

The village idiot screwed up his face in intense concentration and for possibly the first time in his life came out with something vaguely sensible.

"I should very much like a new set of clothes-to include a suit of the finest leather to protect me when I walk into trees, a stout pair of boots to stop the badgers eating my feet, and a nice furry hat to keep my hair warm."

 

A fleeting look of panic flashed across the Genie's fleshy face. He was fairly new to the Genie-ing game and was unsure how garments such as these were supposed to look. He decided to refer back to his two previous clients for inspiration. Unfortunately for the village idiot these were Grizelda Grimbergen-Gorepants, seamstress in chief to Genghis Khan himself and Percy 'prefers to ride pillion' McProber, the only openly gay member of the Hell's Angels!

 

And thus was how the village idiot acquired his new clothes which he continues to wear to this day, blissfully safe in the knowledge that he is fully immune to the ravages of tree impacts, badger attack, and most terrifying of all... cold hair!

 

Night night.

 

Hi mate well done there thanks ❤️❤️👍👍Jon 👍

[Mull]

Haha, very good, I've now deleted my Kindle app!

And the third wish?

[bobh]

Pure genius👏👏

[Marc Lewis]

The village idiot may now be immune to badger attack, but he may not be to jon's badger spit.

[the village idiot]

The village idiot may now be immune to badger attack, but he may not be to jon's badger spit.

 

Badger spit can do no harm

to an idiot blessed with guile and charm.

For saliva from the stripy beast,

when mixed with mead and brewer's yeast

produces a brew both thick and gruelly

quoffed each morning by your's truly.

[Mull]

Badger spit can do no harm

 

to an idiot blessed with guile and charm.

 

For saliva from the stripy beast,

 

when mixed with mead and brewer's yeast

 

produces a brew both thick and gruelly

 

quoffed each morning by your's truly.

 

 

Jesus! That's a fair talent you have there tvi. Wordsmith extrordinairre! ( not sure bout extrordinairre spelling!!)

[the village idiot]

Jesus! That's a fair talent you have there tvi. Wordsmith extrordinairre! ( not sure bout extrordinairre spelling!!)

 

Thanks Mull:thumbup:

 

No talent though, just a brain addled by woodland solitude and too much wood smoke!

[Mull]

Thanks Mull:thumbup:

 

 

 

No talent though, just a brain addled by woodland solitude and too much wood smoke!

 

 

Solitude and wood smoke are no bad thing then!👍

[the village idiot]

Solitude and wood smoke are no bad thing then!👍

 

Quite so my friend.