Natboff! One Million Years of Stupidity. Andy Stanton

      Right. Let’s say that a normal man is about, I don’t know, about as tall as – let’s just say, for example, that a normal man is about as tall as a fencepost. (I know some men are slightly shorter than a fencepost, and some other men are slightly taller than a fencepost but let’s just say, on average, that one man is about as tall as one fencepost.) So we can write down the following equation:

      ONE MAN = ONE FENCEPOST

      Now, of course, the question is this: How tall was Gavin the giant? And we can write down this question as the following equation:

      GAVIN THE GIANT = ???

      So. Given that a normal man is about as tall as a fencepost, and given that we don’t know how tall Gavin the giant was, it is clear that Gavin the giant was quite a mysterious sort of a character. OK, so we – OK, I tell you what, this has all been a bit confusing what with all these equations and things, let’s start again.

       THE MASSIVE GIANT AND THE FLEA

      Once upon a time there lived a giant called Gavin and one day he saw a flea.

      THE END

       Bibbering Through The Ages

       The Stone Table

      The Stone Table that stands on the outskirts of Lamonic Bibber is a mysterious and powerful object of ancient times. Recent tests have revealed that it may be much older than previously thought, perhaps dating as far back as 400 years BC (Before Chairs). Although no one knows exactly what it was used for, it was probably built by the so-called ‘Oakic people’, a group of nature-worshipping weirdies who spent their time dancing around hillsides, dressed as acorns and singing songs about dead badgers. Today the Oakic people have mostly been forgotten, although some of their rites and ceremonies have survived into the modern age, such as the Festival of the Leaves, which still takes place every autumn, and the Eurovision Song Contest, which falls around May. (Thankfully, a number of their other ceremonies, such as the Month of Human Sacrifices, the Other Month of Human Sacrifices, and the notorious ‘Nudey Day’, have died out naturally over time.)

Once Upon a Time . . .

       Princess Snowflake and the Gypsy King

      Once upon a time, long ago in the Age of Fairy Tales, when the whole wide world was sugar and spice and apples and mice and snow and ice and moonbeams, there lived in Lamonic Bibber a princess called Princess Snowflake. And never was there a name more suited to a person, because for a start she was a princess, so that bit was definitely right. And also she looked a bit like a snowflake, for her face was pale as a December’s morning and her hair as silver as light reflecting off snow. And finally, she was every bit as wild and carefree as a snowflake, so there you have it. Princess Snowflake it was.

      Princess Snowflake’s parents had mysteriously disappeared soon after she was born, and so it was that a bunch of kindly old witches had agreed to raise the child as their own. They lived with her in the Winter Palace, which was made entirely of ice. The chambers, the towers, even the door handles – everything was made of ice. The floors were a bit slippery, and it was best to put a blanket on the seat before you went to the toilet, but it was still a palace, so never mind.

      On the whole, Princess Snowflake led a carefree life, as I have said. But one day, when she was five years old, one of the kindly old witches took her aside.

      ‘Child,’ said the witch. ‘I have something important to tell you. You know the Winter Gardens, which lie beyond the palace walls? Well, they are very nice. But take heed, for a dreadful fellow lurks deep within those gardens, waiting to trap the unwary! It is the Gypsy King, and he is strong, with rippling muscles, and he wears hundreds of gold rings on his fingers, and he has proud boots. Beware the Gypsy King, child, beware the Gypsy King!’

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

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

      And off she ran to explore the gardens, for they were her greatest joy.

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

      ‘Uh oh,’ said Princess Snowflake, ‘here we go again.’

      ‘Child,’ said the kindly old witch. ‘You know the Winter Gardens? Well, they are very nice. But from time to time they are visited by one who seeks to harm the unwary! Yes, it is the Gypsy King, and he is strong, with rippling muscles, and he wears hundreds of gold rings on his fingers, and he has proud boots.’

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

      ‘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 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 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, 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