April 2018 Competition

Sun, Apr 1 2018 07:16pm IST 1
67 Posts
Happy Easter Sunday, or just Sunday to those averse to eggs.

You can be made one. You can make one of others. You can even eat one if you're feeling adventurous.

In the spirit of today's momentous occasion, an intertwining of traditions, the topic for this month's competition is 'Fools'.

Real life examples will be accepted, though anonymous please, unless they deserve recognition...

400 word limit + Bonus points for humour!

Keyboards at the ready!

TYPE! :-)
Sun, Apr 1 2018 08:02pm IST 2
805 Posts
Quick work, typing now, ...
Sun, Apr 1 2018 08:04pm IST 3
842 Posts
I’m not typing but conforming to type and spending three weeks on historical research first
Tue, Apr 3 2018 10:32pm IST 4
248 Posts

Spear Carriers

“What's he saying? Him. Next to King Henry.”

“Shut it. I can't hear a bloody word for you. Hang on, he's saying no one is working in England today.”

“The lazy bastards. We've sat in the pissing rain all night. I've got the shits. You've got the shits. We've all got the shits. There's a million Frenchies over there and all we've got is some bows and arrows -”

“Will you shut up! Hang on. The kings saying he doesn't mind if somebody wears his clothes. Aye right. Like I'll swan up there and ask for a loan of his breeks and that'll be okay, like.”

“What's he saying now? He covets a whore? Dirty auld bugger.”

“Honour, you cloth-eared half wit. He says he doesn't covet honour. Take off that bloody helmet.”

“I'd rather covet a whore. I knew this one once, did this thing that made my ears pop – OUCH! Did you poke me with an arrow?”

“Aye and I'll shove it up yer arse if you don't pipe down. He's saying anyone that doesn't want to fight can leave. And they'll be paid too. Anybody that's feart to die. That can't be right? Bet its a bloody trick to see who'll desert before the battle. I'll bet there's no money for leaving.”

“Maybe we should leave now then? Make a break for it. Get a quick exit, like.”

“A break and an exit. A brexit. Sounds like a plan.”

“What's he saying now?”

“He's talking about crisps.”

“Maybe we should stay. It might be better to remain.”

“He's still on about crisps. Must be hungry. Wait. He says he wants a cheap man in his bed to hold his manhood? I didn't think he was like that.”

“So what do we do then?”

“Ach, we'll stay. We might win. And who knows? Maybe somebody will write a play about this one day.”

“Yeah, like that is ever going to happen.”

Wed, Apr 4 2018 12:42pm IST 5
215 Posts
Well, I tried. And this is what happened...
402 words
Home To Roost


"Er, I say... What are you doing?"


"I said, what are you doing?"


"Will you stop that and answer me? Look, just put the mallet down for a second, will you?"


"Now look! If you do that one more time I’m going to come down there and take that off you, do you understand? Right. Now, what are you doing?"

"Sorry, sir. You know ‘ow it is."

"Actually, no I don’t know 'ow it is. I don’t think many people do, come to that. Skulking about a barnyard at three in the morning, hitting things? What's wrong with you, you fool?"

"No need to get personal, sir. Sergeant Pecker, sir. Flying squad."

"What are you doing?"

"I am attending to a serious matter of law and order, sir. The chickens are revolting."

"Wait; what?"

"The chickens, sir. Little beggars have risen up and thrown off the shackles of the bourgeoisie and are unitin' the feathery proletariat."

"You make them sound like communists."

"Bunch of left-wingers is what they are, sir."

"Well, stop it. I'm trying to get some sleep. Anyway, there are no chickens here. This is a holiday cottage, not a battery farm! And there are none-"


"-in my car! You broke my windscreen, you maniac!"

"Narrow squeak there, sir. He was about to have it away. Insurance'll sort that out. Act of God."

"Act of a madman, you mean. I want to see some identification!"

"I can't come in, sir. Little beggars'll be all over you. They'll poach your livestock as soon as look at you."

"I haven't got any livestock! I'm on holiday! And I've had just about enough of this silliness!"

"That's what they all say, sir. They all call me a nutter and then, before they know it, the chickens have taken 'em ostrich. Uh-oh."

"'Uh-oh' what?"

"They've got in your house, sir. I'd barricade your door, if I was you. Here; catch!"


"My window! You broke my window!"

"I've got a spare mallet, sir. You can keep that one."

"I've had about enough of this, my lad - ow!"

"What's that, sir?"

"Something bit me! On the backside!"

"Peck on the cheek, sir?"

"Ow! Stop that!"

"Have at him, sir."


"That's the spirit, sir. Give that chicken what for!"


"I'll be up there in a jiffy, sir. Mind how you go."
Sat, Apr 7 2018 04:43am IST 6
2370 Posts
Tue, Apr 10 2018 07:10am IST 7
2370 Posts
Fri, Apr 13 2018 11:01pm IST 8
Purple witch
Purple witch
34 Posts

The Fools kingdom

He was an idle king who cared little for his kingdom and his voice was petulant. ‘Where’s the cook?’ he toyed with the seed pearls on his coat.

He didn’t know the name of the fool who tasted his food, made him laugh, and slept, nightly, on the floor outside his chamber: But the cook and the queen knew. So did the little princess with alabaster skin and auburn red hair, but they never talked about it.

The fool bowed and the bells on his coxcomb hat jingled. ‘In truth, I know not Sire, but perhaps he is at his pastry table. For it is whispered, he has a hand in many pies this day.’


Impatiently, the king pulled again at his coat. ‘Where is that cook? Tumbling a maid no doubt.

And, where is the queen? Dealing with kitchen details is her work, not mine.’ A roughly grasped pearl fell from the kings coat and bounced across the floor.

The fool smiled as he bent to retrieve it. He knew just where the queen was. He stayed head bowed; hiding the merriment his eyes could not. ‘You name me buffoon, and indeed I am but a bag of wind, blowing through the halls of this castle, my king. Yet, if I wave my wand,’ the fool shook the small belled-stick in his hand, ‘I see a vision of the queen, as many ladies are, still abed.’

The king coughed. ‘The queen is remiss in many of her womanly duties. It’s no wonder this kingdom and its castle does not prosper. I should never have agreed to the marriage. Go and wave your damn stick at the cook and get him to bring me a flagon of ale.’

The fool inclined his head again and went to find the cook.

He found him in the cellar dripping piss into the king’s flagon. He watched as the cook topped th cup with fine ale, re-tied his codpiece and took the filled pot to serve the king.

The fool stayed in kitchen.

A nervous page peeked in at the door, ‘The king commands you, go and wake the queen.’ He whispered, and was gone.

The fool took off his hat and smiled. I’ve already done that once today, he thought to himself as he ran his hands through his mop of flaming red hair.


(Well this definitely didn’t turn out how I was expecting)

Sun, Apr 15 2018 05:26pm IST 9
dyslexic of dartford
dyslexic of dartford
121 Posts

Watch out.

A small orange point of light appeared in the blackout curtain of night as Chas drew on his cigarette. Looking like an ageing spiv in a white shell suit he glanced at his new watch for the twentieth time in five minutes. Big, golden and gaudy as an accident in a smelting works Chas's new acquisition made him smile to himself.

From the edge of the field two familiar shapes come into view. The first being of a large man walking with a stoop. That would be Lummox with the ball shaped figure of Doughnut next to him.

'Where the bloody 'ell 'ave you bin ?' inquired Chas as his companions drew closer.

'It's he's fault,' said Lummox pointing at Doughnut.

'Naugh,' Doughnut protested, 'you're the one who kept talking to me. You know I can't walk and talk at the same time.'

'I said 11 o’clock,' said Chas while pointing at his watch like a man on an advertising board.

'That a new watch ?' asked Lummox.

'Yes it is,' replied Chas, 'it's a Rolex Lobster. Worf thousands it is. My new bird got it for me, she is minted you know.'

'Knock off Nigel was selling them.' said Lommox.

'Not like this one,' replied Chas indignantly. 'This is the real McCoy.'

'Why 'ave you got a green line round your arm ?' asked Doughnut.

'Never mind,' Chas pulled his arm away. 'Let's get this bloody hole dug shall we. My metal detector says there's something big down 'ere.'

Lommox and Doughnut complained bitterly about having to dig the hole while Chas supervised on account of his back. Until a dull thud told them that they'd hit something. Then like a pair of excited children it wasn't long before they'd uncovered a large metal cylinder.

'What do ya think it is ?' asked Doughnut.

'I d' know,' replied Chas 'but it'll fetch a fortune at the scrappy.'

'Let's get it out,' said Doughnut excitedly as he began to hit the object with a spade.

'Hold on, hold on,' called out Chas. 'You can't go charging in like a bull in a Chinese shop. You got to do this careful like.'

'Chas,' said Lummox.

'What ?'

'Your new watch ain’t half got a loud tick.'

'It ain’t got a tick, it's a digital.'

The three fell silent until Chas said, 'boys, I think that we best be off. And no talking on the way.'

Mon, Apr 23 2018 01:20pm IST 10
John Alty
John Alty
31 Posts

Nobody’s Fool

Maggoty Johnson threw his hat on the floor and slumped onto the bench in the corner of the kitchen, his toe bells tinkling merrily in contrast to his mood.

“Bloody past it. Shouldn’t still be doing this stuff at my age. It’s a young man’s game is this.”

“Oh, Maggoty, stop moaning, at least you’ve got a job” said cook, “and King likes you even if the younger ones don’t find you that funny anymore.”

“He might like me, cook, but he sent that bloody twerp of a knave to suggest I might try some musical farting like that Tom La Fol fella. Bloody frog.”

“All the rage at the moment is farting. There’s a bloke blows out candles. Got special trews with a hole in the bottom. Ain’t seen it myself but I bet it’s right funny.”

“You’re not helping my mood, cook. What’s wrong with a good jest and a bit of a dance, eh? Now we have to have bloody juggling and tumbling and farting. It’s so unsophisticated.”

“Come and sit down and have your tea, Maggoty, you’re not on again until the banquet starts.”

He sat at the big table and tore a piece of bread from the loaf and dunked it in a bowl of soup while cook went about the business of organising the food for the evening banquet. When he’d finished, Maggoty Johnson climbed the stone steps to the ramparts where he could have a smoke in peace and quiet. He pondered the prospect of moving to Gawsworth Hall where his long-time friend Chester Jester worked and where he’d said there was a job going as dance-master.

“It’d just suit you in your twilight years, Maggoty, you must be fed up with clowning by now and you’re damn good at the dancing” Chester had said. “I’ve been working on a farting act for months now and I just can’t get it right. There’s no way you’d manage, Maggoty, not with your bowels. Some’d get more in their faces than they’d bargained for, right enough.”

Maggoty Johnson tapped out his pipe and went back down to the banqueting hall to start rehearsals for the night’s show. It would be his last. He’d made up his mind. Maggoty Johnson would be nobody’s fool.

Wed, Apr 25 2018 11:38am IST 11
793 Posts

King Of The Underground

Finn flinched as his bedroom door flew open and the ape that was his cousin lurched into the room. How he hated Aunt Jill’s visits.

‘Got any sweets?’ Gus pushed Finn onto the bed and began searching his drawers, the contents flying over his shoulder like ploughed muck. ‘You’re boring!’ he concluded, finding none.

The bed bounced as Gus dropped onto it. He pulled a penknife from his pocket, initialled JG. ‘You could join my gang, that’s not boring.’

‘What’s a knife got to do with joining your gang?’ Finn hardly dared ask.


‘Nishy what?’

‘A dare to prove yer brave. Like this.’

‘Ow! That hurts!’ Finn pulled his blade-nicked hand free and nursed it. ‘Why would I want to join a gang that makes me do that?’

‘Protekshun, that’s why. I’m King of the underground, see.’

‘Don’t you mean underworld?’

‘Wha’ ever. Bu’ as mummy brings me to play wi’ ickl Finn all the time, I fink ickl Finn’d be’er join. If yer chicken though, I’ll except a rollment fee instead.’

Gus slammed Finn’s shoulder as he rose to his feet and reached for his ceramic pig. ‘Bu’ if yeh are chicken, what’s stopping me from taking it anyway?’

‘Give that back!’ Finn sprang from the bed.

‘Get stuffed!’ Gus swung his fist, but Finn ducked and the ape lost his balance, bashing his nose on a jutting-out drawer.

Gus howled and held his bloody nose, while a stomping from the stairs produced Finn’s mum and Auntie Jill.

‘Oh, my poor poppet!’ Auntie dashed over to Gus. ‘Look, your Finn’s used his piggy bank as a weapon! I’m not leaving my Gussy Woo alone with that little brute again, d’you hear!’

‘Jill, I’m so sorry.’ Finn’s mum frowned down at his bloodied hand. ‘What have you got to say for yourself, young man?’

Finn offered out his other hand, the one with the knife clenched inside it. ‘Here, Gus, d’you want –‘

‘To shake hands?’ Gus interrupted quickly. ‘No, I just want to go home, mummy, now, and never come back.’

Finn whispered in Gus’s ear on his way out. ‘Is the money you snuck into your pocket enough to keep quiet about the truth and your dad’s knife?’

Alone, Finn picked up the remnants of the pig and smiled. It was a good investment if it meant not being left alone with that great bully again.

399 words excl. title.

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