N A CITY of the land of Egypt there lived a poor but dishonest drainpipe manufacturer whose name was Mogul. And Mogul did marry a lady of the city whose name was Optimistic Princess Jurdie, the which was a butcher’s daughter and skilled in the arts of the abattoir. And Mogul and Optimistic Princess Jurdie were visited by the grace of the Lord, and Optimistic Princess Jurdie did conceive a child the whiles her husband was out in the shed making drainpipes. And the grace of the Lord said, ‘Sssh!’; and crept out by the latrine window.

‘Behold,’ said Optimistic Princess Jurdie, ‘and Lo,’ quoth she, ‘my beloved husband, I seem to be pregnant.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Mogul, and was happy, having no heir to his drainpipe business. And Optimistic Princess Jurdie bare a son and named him Saint Effin the Ridiculous, for she was optimistic but with a streak of shrewd realism. And when Saint Effin the Ridiculous was but three hours old, Optimistic Princess Jurdie spake and said, ‘We must find a wife for our son, seeing as how you can’t start too soon.’

‘Oh,’ said Mogul when he got back from the pub. ‘Is it a boy then?’

And thus when he was six minutes further advanced in age, he was married to Alice Next Door Who Would Inherit Pots Of Money, for Mogul and Optimistic Princess Jurdie were wise according to the wisdom of this world.

And in the fourth year of the life of Saint Effin the Ridiculous there came a humble citizen to the shed of Mogul the drainpipe manufacturer, and his name was Oi I’m The King Of This City I’ll Have You Know, and he said unto Mogul, ‘You! Vassal! That drainpipe you stuck up in my palace is totally bloody useless.’

‘Well, it’s been a bit wet lately...’ spake Mogul.

‘Of course it’s been a bit wet!’ said Oi. ‘My palace is at the bottom of a huge lake, you moron.’

‘And I’m the moron?’; spake Mogul under his breath, that Oi might not hear him, which he unfortunately did. Then Oi grew wonder wroth and commanded that Mogul be thrown into a dark, damp and significantly pointy dungeon.

‘My liege,’ said Mogul on his knees, ‘spare my life! For I will gladly give you my beloved wife Optimistic Princess Jurdie to rape and pillage, and my dear infant son to torture, if you’ll only leave me alone.’

‘Well get off my bloody knees,’ quoth Oi, ‘and I’ll think about it.’

So Mogul arose, and summoned his wife and son, and did present them before Oi I’m The King Of This City. And Oi I’m The King Of This City beheld Optimistic Princess Jurdie, and his mind was sore troubled at the visage of her.

‘Goodness gracious me,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite like that before.’ And secretly in his heart he vowed that he would marry her, so stricken was he with affection, according to the saying of the wise man: Love is blind, deaf, dumb and stupid. Therefore he resolved to remove the obstacle to his lust, being the odious Mogul.

So he killed him.

‘Oh my liege!’ protested Optimistic Princess Jurdie.

‘Yes?’ said Oi.

‘Nothing.’

Then Oi I’m The King Of This City (who, coincidentally, was king of the city after all) and Queen Optimistic Princess Jurdie ruled fairly incompetently over the immediate vicinity, and the young Prince Saint Effin the Ridiculous dwelt in the palace with his wife Alice Next Door Who Would Inherit Pots Of Money (But Who Had Not In Fact Been Born Yet); and he did grow into the estate of manhood, which took years.

But upon Prince Saint Effin the Ridiculous’s sixteenth birthday there entered into the palace an old man wonder aged and of great antiquity, for many long winters had passed over his head, and he was getting on in life. And the old man stood in the Prince’s hall and surveyed the plates of crisps and bowls of jelly and bottles of fizzy pop, and did see the merrymaking and the joy that they made who had been summoned to the birthday of the Prince, and his brow furrowed and his mouth scowled, and he blinked much with his eyes.

‘Hmmm,’ he said. ‘This isn’t my house. Bugger.’ And he went from the palace and wandered the streets in search of his own home, for he was senile and his wits were gone far astray. But his niece who looked after him searched about the city for him, and at last when evening came she found him, and took him home, and set him by the fire, and put the kettle on.

‘Now, Uncle Henry,’ she said. ‘Did you remember to deliver the Lord’s message to the Prince?’

‘What?’ said the old man. ‘Eh? ... Oh, bugger it.’

‘Oh you silly, silly sod,’ cried his niece, and her name was Billie. ‘Never mind, I’ll go.’

And she drew on her raincoat and galoshes and strode to the palace, whilst her Uncle Henry dozed by the fire and was comforted by forgetfulness and the dreams of his youth.

‘Prince Saint Effin the Ridiculous!’ proclaimed Billie to the Prince when she had found him (in a nightclub some miles from the palace, where he was intertwined to a quite remarkable extent with a certain lady who was not Princess Alice Next Door Who Would Inherit Pots of Money Assuming She Was Ever Conceived), ‘I bring you a command from the Lord. Know, your highness, that it is not the fate appointed to thee that thou shouldst be king of this city. Another destiny has been shaped for thee.’

The Prince regarded her unsteadily. ‘Does it involve lots of fast women and booze?’

‘Funnily enough,’ said Billie, ‘yes.’

So they went back to her place, and lived happily ever after.