Tony Deyal
I SUPPOSE I should begin this with 'Once upon a time ...', which is what I do when I respond to my children's demands for a story, and what they do when they tell most of their stories, except the ones where they have spilled milk or forgotten to do something.
However, if that opening phrase preferred by storytellers like Aesop and Hans Christian Anderson were mandatory, and compulsorily applied to all fairy tales, then every political speech or news release would begin with the same words, 'Once upon a time'. But no use
crying over spilled milk. Let us press on with my tale.
USING THE PAGES
Once upon a time, many years ago a very wise king who had started as a page to a fearsome knight, Sir Most Dread, reputedly more dread than Mordred, and who had worked his way up until his marriage to the royal princess led to his taking over as king, was frustrated with having to make speeches. By and large, round and about, far and wide, long and short, he was a good and sagacious king.
When a witch conjured up a giant set of yellow fingers which terrorised the kingdom, shutting it off from the neighbouring territories, the king was adamant about letting his knights try to break out. The yellow fingers crushed them before they were halfway out of the drawbridge.
So he sent two brave youngsters who were attendants on the knights, trying to learn war craft. They not only escaped the dreaded yellow fingers by merely walking out of the castle instead of attempting the perilous journey on horseback, or
trying to outrun the menace, but were able to slay the witch. The king boasted, quite justifiably, "It is what I always said. Let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers."
Unlike today's politicians, this royal personage, call him King Obsolete of the family Anachron, given that his like will never be seen in our time, absolutely hated formal events where he had to 'say a few words'.
He complained to his wife, "Darling, one more after dinner speech and I will throw up."
This remark by King Obsolete actually presaged a famous Groucho Marx joke. Groucho was the feature speaker at a prestigious formal dinner and the master of
ceremonies, in welcoming Groucho to the podium, tried his own brand of humour by saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, our guest is an old hand at this business. Just pop a dinner into his mouth and out comes a speech."
When it was Groucho's turn, he duly thanked the man for his kind introduction then added, "He is just the opposite of me. Pop a speech into his mouth and out comes your dinner."
King Obsolete also hated having to dictate various forms of
correspondence to his many scribes, such as notices for increased taxation, 'beware of dragon' scrolls, announcements about tourneys and jousts, summonses to court ('One more, hear ye!" he said, "and I'll vomit"), and correspondence with neighbouring sovereigns and
monarchs, trying to pick a fight, so they could have an excuse to invade his kingdom. ("Dear King Benedict," he wrote, "I am a king and a king is a sovereign, so why do you want to bet me that a king is worthless than a sovereign?")
Being a king, and having set his mind to it, he figured there must be something that could be done about all the writing and the speaking. Again, what made him obsolete was not just his stubbornness, but his great resolve. He was a man of action.
His mind made up, he summoned all the wise men and women of his kingdom and even sent out notices ("This is the last announcement I shall ever dictate," he announced grandly) to wise men everywhere offering a huge reward of 1,000 golden sovereigns ('Not to be confused with kings," he added in his notice) to whoever will come up with one message that he can use for every occasion, whether spoken, written, sung, mumbled, jumbled or stuttered.
KING'S LAST WORDS
At the beginning there were many suggestions based generally on making whatever he said the last words the king would ever utter. He was advised if he said, 'He's probably just hibernating', or 'I wonder where the mother bear is?', or 'So, you're a cannibal', he might never have to utter any more words.
Other suggestions along the same line were, 'The odds of that happening have to be a million to one!', or 'These are the good kind of mushrooms', and 'This does not taste right'. One that was virtually guaranteed especially if his castle was being besieged by enemies with catapults was, 'What duck?'
These did not quite hit the spot with him and he wished the yellow fingers were still around, so he could send some wise men out.
Then one of his best advisers suggested a type of letter with 'dear sir/madam', 'ladies and gentlemen', 'my fellow monarchs', 'hear ye! hear ye!' and 'my dear wife', from which he would select one option and then move on to 'I am glad to be here', 'regarding our previous correspondence', 'this has come to my attention', 'meet me in the royal bedchamber' and 'please note the following'. He declined all the options including 'why don't you stick it up your ...', which good breeding and manners prevented him from suggesting, even to the adviser whose bright idea it was.
Finally, one night in the royal bedchamber as he disported with the queen, she said prophetically, "This, too, shall pass away."
The king almost fainted from pure joy. Had he known Archimedes, or were the queen doused in perfume, he would have shouted, '"Eureka!" As it was, he yelled, "That's it! That's it!" And so it was. And so it is.
CSME or Seaga, victory or defeat, oil wealth or poor relatives, hard times and good times, these too shall pass away.
Tony Deyal was last seen
thinking of the wise queen who was nostalgic about the early days when she met her future husband. "Once a king always a king,"
she said. "But once a knight
is enough."
