Felicitations to you, one and all, hee-hee!! It is I, frilly Queen Justin of Rockfordshire here, with my Knights of the Messing Around Table!! I have been away from you good people for far too long now, and I just KNOW you've all been sitting about wailing and gnashing those pearly teeth, just DYING for me to make my return to your PARTS. Do you get it? PARTS!! Ha-HAA!!
Anyway, here I am, and if you promise to put your tissues away for a second (in the bin, if you've, y'know, USED them!!), I shall tell you all about my adventures. But be warned! There are parts of this tale which are not for delicate eyes. Some of you won't be able to TAKE IT, do you see!?
Read on, if you DARE...
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a very handsome young squire indeed, who worked as an apprentice blacksmith. He was definitely the boy who got to kiss all of the most pretty girls in his village, and was quite the swordsman too (SWORDSMAN!! Get it?? EH? EH?). Many's the night that this beautiful young man could be seen escorting a farmer's daughter or two (TWO! The man's UNSTOPPABLE, I tell you!) to a nearby field, where he would draw his SHARP WEAPON, and give them a brief, but dazzling display of his JOUSTING SKILLS, before driving it back into his SCABBARD (it's a sock for swords, honestly!).
Anyway, one day, a rumour was spread around the village by the jealous lumpy men that our hero was actually thirty-five years of age, and had an entire room full of MIRRORS in his one-room hut, just so that he could look at his own BOTTOM. Can you IMAGINE such a thing? You can? See me afterwards! Ha-haa!!
So he resolved to leave the village, and find his fortune far away from the ugly and jealous folk who used to wee all over his chain-mail catsuits until they went quite rusty and yellow. Oh, the girls did cry and shriek for him not to go! They formed a wall of FLESH across the HIGHLY-POLISHED door to his hut. And they POUNDED their FISTS against it until his amusingly-shaped brass door knob wobbled in the breeze (and don't we all know how THAT feels, boys?).
But it was all to no avail. And our brave (and VERY pretty) hero slipped OUT THE BACK, and MOUNTED his WAITING STEED, before RIDING off into the sunset at TOP SPEED. Hurrah!
He RODE and RODE, NON-STOP for THREE DAYS (wah-HEY!!) until he came to a crossroads, and there he met a Wizard with an enormous STAFF (see that, ladies?), and a PAINED look on his face.
"What ails you, oh mighty Wizard?" said the charming squire, with a stunning beam. "Young sir!", the old man replied (see? He said YOUNG, and he's a WIZARD!), "I am afflicted with a thorn in my foot, could you help?"
Well, it was a matter of mere moments to WITHDRAW the SPIKY PRONG. And the Wizard was so grateful, he promised the young squire he would grant him any wish.
"I wish to be King of all the land!" the squire replied, "and I want a massive pink castle with a TOWER and a huge PARAPET and I want you to invent electricity, electrical guitars and great big Marshall amps so I can ROCK! Oh, and can you do anything with this shiny patch on my head?"
And with a FLASH from his THROBBING WAND (naughty!) the Wizard granted the young man his wish, and lo, there much ROCKING in the land from that day forth...
What does this have to do with my PROLONGED absence from your sorry little lives? Well, dearest reader, let me tell you. That young squire was ME! I've been ROCKING, in an OLDE WORLE STYLEE! Ha-HA-HAA!!!
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