Natboff! One Million Years of Stupidity. Andy Stanton

Natboff! One Million Years of Stupidity - Andy  Stanton


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      ‘There’s no such thing as the Gypsy King!’ she laughed. ‘I don’t need your help, I don’t need anyone’s help!’

      And off she went to raid the kitchens for her favourite cakes – marzipan disobediences. She didn’t like how they tasted, she just liked

      the name. Princess Snowflake stuffed herself

      silly with marzipan disobedience cakes, and off she ran to explore the gardens once more.

      When Princess Snowflake was seven years old, another of the kindly old witches took her aside.

      ‘Child,’ said the kindly old witch. ‘You know the –’

      But Princess Snowflake only clapped her hands together, one, two, three!

      ‘Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before,’ she said. ‘King of the Pixies or something, nasty

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      bloke, don’t go near him, blah blah blah. I don’t

      need your help, I don’t need anyone’s help!’

      And off she ran to explore the gardens, slipping on the icy floor and almost colliding with a little hedgehog called Chomley.

      With each passing year Princess Snowflake grew more reckless, wandering further and further into the gardens to explore. The witches despaired, but there was nothing to be done and in the end, they gave up even trying to keep her indoors. ‘For she has a mind of her own, that girl,’ said one. ‘Which is fine, it’s just that sometimes it’s quite an annoying mind.’

      One day shortly after her eleventh birthday, Princess Snowflake was exploring a part of the gardens she hadn’t been in before, her faithful spaniel, Gooseberry, at her side. Merrily she skipped along, scoffing her marzipan

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      disobediences, Chomley the hedgehog racing

      after her to guzzle up the scraps.

      Oh, how beautiful the gardens were! Waxy

      green holly bushes lined the pathways, so that it

      always felt like Christmas. Thick pines and fir trees

      rose all around, like something from a picture

      book, and the flowerbeds were bursting with

      every sort of winter plant and herb imaginable:

      snowdrops and white pansies; snapdragons and

      turkeybane; Shoveller’s Delight and puff-puff-

      mcguffs;inside-out Nigels, wizard-foot, beards of

      Persia, frogleytumps, moth-whipper – and many

      more besides. Everything sparkled with a layer of

      diamond-dusty white, and the only sounds were

      the crunching of the snow underfoot and the

      soft breeze whispering in the branches.

      At length, Princess Snowflake came to a

      little wooden bench set back from the path,

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      and there she sat herself down to watch the world go by. The witches had put up signs all around the bench, saying:

      BEWARE THE GYPSY KING!

      and

      DANGER! THE GYPSY KING IS

      KNOWN TO OPERATE IN THESE PARTS!

      and

      YOU’RE GOING TO REGRET NOT

       READING THESE SIGNS ONE OF THESE

      DAYS, YOUNG LADY, IN FACT I BET

      YOU’RE NOT EVEN READING

      THIS ONE RIGHT NOW, ARE YOU?

      ‘No, I’m not,’ said Princess Snowflake, which was true, because she wasn’t.

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      Presently a deer bounded by with a big ‘D’

      painted on its side. Then

      another one with an

      ‘A’. Then another, with

      an ‘N’. Then another,

      with a ‘G’. Then

      another, with an ‘E’. And then

      one more, with an ‘R’ painted

      on its side.

      ‘Oh, how

      adorable,’ laughed Princess Snowflake, clapping her hands together, one, two,

      three! ‘Those letters must be

      the initials of each deer’s name! I bet they are called Daniel, Arthur, Neil, Georgina, Eleanor and Rum-

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      Pum-Pum! Rum-Pum-Pum is my

      favourite!’

      While Princess Snowflake

      had been sitting on the bench,

      she had let Gooseberry off

      his leash so that he could

      go and do his business in

      the bushes. (Gooseberry

      ran a small and very

      profitable furniture business

      in the undergrowth,

      selling small

      tables and chairs

      and suchlike to the

      other animals.

      Chomley the hedgehog

      was one of his best

      customers.)

      ‘Gooseberry!’ called

      Princess Snowflake at

      length. ‘Finish up your

      business and come and walk with me

      some more, there’s a good doggie!’

      But no, there wasn’t a good doggie,

      because Gooseberry did not come rushing out of the bushes as he normally did, barking and smiling and with dozens of silver coins spilling from his mouth. Gooseberry was nowhere to be seen,

      and for the first time in her young life, Princess Snowflake knew what it was to feel fear. For the first time, she began to wish that she had listened to the witches. How long had Gooseberry been gone? Ten minutes? An hour? Even as Princess Snowflake rose from the bench to search for him, the day darkened and a cold, crisp flurry of snow began to fall. And as the snow fell, it sang:

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      Whisper,

      whisper so,

      The wind

      and

      the snow

      The

      Gypsy

      King

      And his

      golden

      ring

      Woe,

      woe,

      woe!

      Whisper,

      whisper

      so,

      The frostbite

      on

      your toe

      The

      Gypsy

      King


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