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A Christmas Tale

Saturday, December 18, 2010 11:42 AM By Stephen J Christophers

Once upon a time, on an island, somewhere south of Guam, there lived a fairly average looking princess. Her mother and father loved her very much, their lives were happy, and the people of the kingdom prospered.

One day the wise man of the village came to see our princess, to tell her the bad news, "It has been reported, your majesty, that the King and Queen were taken by a big shark, while getting-it-on close to the royal beach." ... "you are now Queen, your majesty." Our princess did cry, but got over it, and started revelling in the idea of building up a new, more sophisticated economic model. "But first, I shall need a royal husband." the Queen said.

The single men of the land were summoned (bar beggers or the ones with birth defects). Not withstanding, even after a stiff measure of alcohol, Kava and herbal viagra (that which grows deep in the virgin forest on the island, fifty feet up in the Bunga-Bunga tree), their attentions could not be aroused.

The Queen instead of growing despondent, felt she would lavish all her attentions on the people of her small island. Driven by a yearning for love, that which she shared with her parents, and realising the happiness they gave her ... in a moment a plan was hatched. For without a love of her own she would become a mother to her nation. The idea would be rolled-out like an IT project, across the land, from village to village. "From here on, our economy shall be built on children and love will reign." she cried to the world.

The princess had plans for a great ball: it would be announced over dinner; the implementation of an island "Ten Year Fertility Plan". At which point, Herbal Viagra(that which grows deep in the virgin forest on the island, fifty feet up in the Bunga-Bunga tree), would be handed out to all the guests, with jolly shots O' Rum...

One year on: the streets was full O' Baby's the Herald, heralded, 'Hear! Yee!... Hear! Yee!' and the small village economies from one side of the island to the other started to boom. One village specialised in little pink booties, the other bibs. There were baby showers everywhere, and men dressed in funny clown suits as entertainment. Everyone was merry. But, there lurked a dark force.

The wise man having studied this economic phenomena made an appointment to see the Queen: After, a good half an hour lecture about, "how dam good the baby-boom was for business" by the Queen. The wise man spoke aloud; "I see a problem your Majesty, you see when the maximum sustainable population density is reached, for this island, then we will have some huge problems. I see half of the islands fishermen are now employed as clowns and jugglers at the local education centre." ... "Yes..." said the Queen,"...they get paid more." and," Every time I see you wise man, you bring me bad news. I don't want to ever see you again." ... "Bring me another baby!" she shouted, as the wise man was driven out by the mothers co-operative.

He was right however, the town started to grow ... and grow. Silently, people started to worry about food, as there were less and less edible food stuffs at each party, and more and more alcohol. The Queen, not having to suffer like the common people, found herself, giving out greater amounts of Viagra(that which grows deep in the virgin forest on the island, fifty feet up in the Bunga-Bunga tree) at each party with the hope that one day her time would come to share in the joys of mother hood.

A village elder came to see the queen (wise man exiled): "There are problems in the village, your majesty. The children are going hungry, your Majesty." She replied: "You must make more booties, to sell at the village market ...more booties!" she shouted.

"We must eat!" the next village elder said to the queen. "More Bibs ...More Bibs!!!!" she shouted.

By this time some villagers had resorted to hunting children for fresh meat while keeping up appearances. Although, the growing discontent, was boiling up inside the rebel clowns, the bootie and bib makers. There was revolution in the air ... To be continued.

Music for inspiration::morcheeba - everybody loves a loser::

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