ONCE UPON A TYPO

 

Lost in the mists of the time before time began, or certainly before the QWERTY keyboard was widely accepted, lived men whose lives were the stuff of legend. This the story of one such man. And the men who fought beside him. And half a dozen guys from catering. And a donkey. Also there might have been some goats and an irritatingly brave thirteen-year-old boy who lied about his age in order to run away from home and join the battle. But I digress.

Quiltstorm the Adequate turned to his men assembled on the eve of battle, and addressed them:

"Men. It is the eve of battle. We are hopelessly outnumbered. I can only offer you death and glory. Who is with me ?"

There was a considerable amount of shuffling and throat-clearing. Men looked at the ground, or at their watches. Or rather at the empty space on their wrists where watches would have been had anyone bothered to invent them instead of piss-farting about fighting wars, torturing non-believers, and pretending to have been close personal friends of Robin Hood "before he was famous". No-one jumped up and came over all keen about a fight to a glorious death. Not everyone knows how to behave properly in a legend.

Quiltstorm's loyal lieutenant, Frinton the Loyal, tried to come to his assistance

"Sir, perhaps this choice of language isn't helping. Hopelessly outnumbered. It sounds you know sort of hopeless. Perhaps if you told the men instead that we face a challenging statistically-disadvantaged position, but one which can only reflect well on their skill and courage"

"Leave out the glorious death bit ?"

"Yes sir, I would. It's been a long and difficult week and none of the men really feel like dying. Perhaps if they could have the weekend off "

"Damn it all Frinton. This is war."

"Yes Sir I've been meaning to have a word with you about that. I'm afraid I've got those OH&S chaps all over me at the moment. They seem to think that this waging war thing poses an unacceptable risk. They're deeply concerned that men could be seriously injured, or even die. They're quite happy for you to continue waging war as such, just so long as no actual fighting takes place. They're quite insistent."

"Oh for fuck sake Frinton !"

"I say sir, steady on"

"Quite so. I'm terribly sorry old chap. It's just so damn frustrating. People die in wars. That's how it works. We kill more of the other chap's chaps than he kills of our chaps and we win. What else  am I supposed to do ?"

"Mediation. Negotiation. Heated discussion."

"You're kidding"

"It's the military strategy of the future, sir"

"Well fuck that Frinton. I'm off to kill someone. It's not the future yet"


Quiltstorm attempted to storm off in a petulant frenzy but was stopped in his tracks by Frinton who knocked him out with a hefty dose of chloroform before sending the troops off to the pub for the night. Some stories have many heroes. But the chances of the donkey turning out to be one of them are slim. And don't expect that thirteen-year-old prat to get a look-in either. Just saying.


The End of Part One


Join us next time for Part Two :  The Crusades - A Discussion  in which Richard the Reasonable (formerly Richard the Lionheart) hosts a number of forums in Jerusalem to discuss with all interested parties the solution to the true and fair ownership of the Holy Lands. Refreshments are served.