ALTERNATIVE FAIRY TALES
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REPUNZEL |
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THE THREE BILLY GOATS GRUFF |
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GOLDILOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS |
Once upon a time there was a young couple called Mr and Mrs Beaver who were trying to have a baby. For years they tried to conceive but to no avail. Day and night they did it and eventually Mrs Beaver got pissed off and accused Mr Beaver of being a Jaffa.
Mr and Mrs Beaver were really poor and next door lived an old witch who lived in a big house with a large vegetable garden. One day they became very hungry after a twelve-hour binge drinking session on Mr Beaver’s illegal home brew cider.
They decided to break into the witch’s garden and steal a load of cabbages and sprouts to satisfy their hunger. Mr Beaver climbed the tall garden wall, still shit faced, and fell over the other side in a giggling drunken mess on top of the witch’s compost heap. After trampling through her herb garden, destroying her sage and parsley, he fell over again in a row of spinach.
He woke up to the sound of the witch screaming at him and telling him to get off her property before she called the police. After complimenting her on her choice of footwear and ensuring her that she was his best mate in the world the witch calmed down.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Beaver.” She cackled. “I’ll wave my magic wand and make your wife get pregnant with a daughter, even though you are a seedless no hoper, and you will call your daughter Rapunzel. The catch is that when your daughter is sixteen years old you’ve got to give her to me so she can get a good education and do all my housework for me.”
“Bonzer!” exclaimed Mr Beaver. “It’s a deal”, he slurred before retreating, empty handed through the garden gate to tell his wife the good news.
Mrs Beaver was livid when he told her and refused him sex for two months. Even so she got pregnant and Mr Beaver promptly accused her of shagging the postman. The baby was born nine months later and, as promised, she was called Rapunzel. They wanted to call her Stacey or Jamelia but the witch had insisted on Rapunzel. She was a classy witch, you see. She had even paid for a private surgeon to remove every one of her warts and a top plastic surgeon had reset her crooked nose at great expense. When Rapunzel became a spotty sixteen year old, the witch came round to the house and took her away. She stuck her in the tall tower of her castle in the countryside so that she couldn’t hear her whinge about the size of her bottom.
What the witch didn’t count on was the fact that Rapunzel had got a boyfriend called Rodney Prince. Rodney was cool enough to have the word “Prince” written on the number plate of his Escort XR3I and Rapunzel had fallen in love with him at first sight. Eventually Rodney discovered that his bird was locked in the tall tower of the witch’s castle and he drove over there to rescue her. To give him a bit of “Dutch courage”, Rodney’s mates plied him with Vodka and Red Bull and told him to stop being such a pansy and climb up the tower to reclaim his girlfriend. He staggered over to the tower and shouted, at the top of his voice, “Rapunzel!”
“What do you want, Rodney? I’ve got a headache”, retorted the stroppy Rapunzel from high above.
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair and show us your tits while you’re at it!” Shouted Rodney. “I’ve come to rescue you. I’m going to ascend your chamber.”
“Don’t be disgusting! You’re drunk, Rodney. If the witch catches you she’ll turn you into a toad.” warned Rapunzel.
“I’m not scared of her.” Said Rodney in defiance. At that moment the witch leaped out from behind a hedge and started cackling insanely at him.
“Fuck me”, said Rodney. “You’ve got a face like a bag full of spanners. What happened to you? Did you fall out of the ugly tree?”
The witch was not too impressed by this line of questioning and she took aim with her wand. Rodney was too quick for her and he lumbered up to the witch and vomited copiously down her top.
“AAAAAARRRGGGHHH”, she screamed. “I’m melting”. She began to shrink and steam rose off the top of her hat. Witches are highly allergic to bodily fluids, which is probably why they are so uptight. Within a minute she had disappeared completely. Rodney climbed up Rapunzel’s tower expecting a hero’s welcome and maybe a shag if he played his cards right.
“You took your time didn’t you?” complained Rapunzel. “I’ve been stuck in this bloody tower for nearly an hour and I’ve missed Eastenders!”
“Take me home, Rodney,” she continued. “We’ll have to stop at the off licence on the way home, though, so I can get some fags.”
Rodney smiled in the knowledge that the woman he loved was safe. They drove off into the sunset, in the XR3I, and lived happily ever after.
THE END
The Moral of The Story
Don’t drive an Escort, Don’t give your kids stupid
names and don’t be a witch.
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THE THREE BILLY GOATS GRUFF
Once upon a time there were three layabout goats. When they weren’t eating grass and avoiding Welsh people, they spent their time growing silly beards (which made them look nearly as ridiculous as students) and hanging about on bridges chewing leaves and staring at people.
One day the three goats had been up at the top field making suggestive remarks to the sheep and comparing the lengths of their horns. On the way home they decided to go over the old bridge at the bottom of the farm, and hassle the old tramp that lived under it. He was known as Jock “The Plop” McTavish because he was always so drunk on Special Brew and meths that he kept falling into the river, making a loud plopping sound. When he wasn’t falling into rivers, Jock liked to sleep under the bridge and gurgle and leer at passers by.
The three goats had heard of this infamous tramp and they decided to annoy him by making a load of noise as they walked over his bridge. The youngest goat was the first to cross. His hooves were quite small so he had to jump up and down on the wooden planks on the bridge to make enough noise to wake up the tramp from his drunken slumber.
“Grrr. I’ll have the lot o’ yers. Who’s that trip trapping over my fuggin’ bridge”, he grumbled before falling back into a gurgling sleep.
“Bollocks”, said the youngest goat as he got to the other side of the bridge. “You have a go”, he said to his older brother. “See if you can get him to chase you.” He challenged.
So the next eldest goat started crossing the bridge. As he was bigger than his younger brother he could make plenty of noise just by trotting. All the same he thought it would be really funny to jump up and down, just as the first goat had done. Within a few minutes Jock, the tramp, woke up again and he staggered out from under the bridge.
The goat could see him standing bow-legged on the path below. He looked like a bedraggled Captain Pugwash with rickets. The small end of his rolled up cigarette hung limply between his lips. “Wasss aaal the fuggin’ noise. Who’s tha’ daft bastard trip trappin over my bridge? Grrr. No fuggin’ consideration. Yer aal bastards,” he shouted. At that point the tramp forgot what he was doing and began urinating against a tree while mumbling obscenities to himself.
The three goats found this hilarious and the two youngest goats, having now both crossed the bridge, called over to the eldest and biggest goat. “Your turn. He’s getting annoyed now. Let’s see if we can really piss him off.”
The eldest goat began trotting over the bridge. The tramp had finished urinating but he still stood next to the tree and was staring blankly at the river. Instead of making lots of noise, the eldest goat decided to pick up a big stone with his horns and toss it into the river to splash the tramp. Although the stone was quite heavy he managed to hurl it over the bridge and it landed perfectly in the middle of the river making a huge splash and covering the tramp with dirty water. The three goats laughed uncontrollably as the soaking wet tramp growled back at them. He shook his fist at the big goat and began climbing up the side of the bridge, intent on teaching him a lesson.
“Grrr. Yer a fuggin’ bastard,” He said. “Come ‘ere and tek wha’s comin’ to yer’! Fuggin’ goats yer aal the bloody same, yer bastards!” He reached the top of the bridge and staggered over to the eldest goat, his fists raised. The three goats just laughed at him and the biggest goat ran up to him and butted him with his big horns. Jock was flung into the air high over the bridge wall before falling down into the river below.
The goats were delighted with this and gave a big cheer as they saw the drenched tramp pulling himself out of the water, his pouch of cheap tobacco now completely saturated. They trotted off down the road knowing that the tramp would never catch them because he was too drunk to run and would probably be asleep again by now anyway. When they got home they sat down in the comfort of their nice warm stable and enjoyed a feast of grass and leaves. They lived happily ever after.
THE END
The Moral of the Story
All tramps are bad, very bad and if you ever see one you
must throw him into the nearest river, even if he is just minding his
own business and not bothering anyone.
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GOLDILOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS
Once upon a time there was a proper little madam called Goldilocks. Goldilocks
had been spoilt rotten from a very young age and had always been told
that she was much better than anyone else in the whole world. One day
her world was torn apart when her mother did not let her have a chocolate
biscuit because she had not finished her supper. Goldilocks was horrified
and she threw a major tantrum, stamping her foot and threatening to scream
the house down if she didn’t get her own way. When she was told to
stop behaving like a little brat she stormed out of the kitchen, ran off
down the street and into the big, dark forest.
On and on she ran until she could run no more. At this point she realised that she had become quite lost. After wandering around for half an hour she stumbled across a wooden house in a clearing. The house had a very big door and Goldilocks wondered who could possibly live there. Being especially nosey, she let herself in and had a good look around.
“Oh what disgusting wallpaper!” she exclaimed on entering the hallway. She pressed on into the living room where she saw three armchairs; one big one, one medium sized one and a little one. She found the first two chairs were far to big for her but the smallest chair was just right. She made herself comfortable and put her feet up on the table. Eventually she got bored and went into the kitchen to find a chocolate biscuit. Instead of biscuits she found three bowls of porridge on the kitchen table. She had a taste of the first one.
“Ugh! This one smells like shit!” She said and moved on to the second bowl. “Ugh! This one tastes like shit!” complained Goldilocks. However, the third bowl didn’t smell or taste like shit so she ate the lot and then let off a big burp.
Goldilocks was tired after her exhausting snooping around and she decided to go upstairs for a sleep. There were three beds in the bedroom, two big ones and a little one. The mattress on the big bed was urine soaked and covered in all sorts of unidentifiable stains. She was even more disgusted to see the second bed had got a Manchester United duvet cover on it. There was no way she was going to sleep in that one!!!! The third bed however was just right and she got in and fell fast asleep.
What Goldilocks did not realise was that the house was inhabited by three lentil-eating hippy bears who were squatting there. The three bears had been out all morning purchasing crack cocaine and barbiturates to get them through the day. When they got back they saw that the front door was already open. The bears walked into the living room and in their drug crazed stupor they failed to realise that someone had been sitting on their chairs. They then went into the kitchen to discover that somebody had been at their food.
After passing round a big spliff they ventured upstairs to find Goldilocks asleep in one of their beds. When they decided that this was not just a hallucination from an excessive use of LSD, they woke her up as they were worried for her safety.
Goldilocks screamed and ran for the door. “If you come after me,” she warned, “I’ll tell the police that you tried to molest me!”
The three bears were too stoned to chase Goldilocks and she ran and ran until she got back home. Her parents sent her straight to her room after giving her a severe smacking for speaking to hippies. Goldilocks grew up to be a famous TV game show presenter and the bears were evicted from their squat six months later.
THE END
The Moral Of The Story
Don’t be a spoilt brat. Don’t eat porridge or lentils and don’t be a drug taking hippy
