Post by Cromwell on Dec 22, 2020 19:14:39 GMT
A friend of mine who is Professor of History at Cambridge University told me of an interesting discovery made by some workmen excavating for an new public lavatory in Prague.
They came across a small box which contained various papers, one of which appeared to be an invoice for various items which had been screwed up into a ball and the other a letter addressed to Good King Wenceslaus.
The letter is set out below.
To: King Wenceslaus
The Castle
Prague
From: Ethelred Swineherd
The Hovel
Castle Grounds
Prague
27th December 930.
Dear King Wenceslaus,
I am writing to you to lodge my complaint about the atrocious working conditions and blatant disregard for all health and safety protocols practiced by yourself towards those in your employ.
Whilst I realise that there are many calls upon your time as King, namely feasting, drinking, wenching and not forgetting the inordinate amount of time and money you spend learning to dance I do feel a little more time taking an interest in those who work for you would go a long way to ease their burdens.
I give you an example of your cavalier attitude to safety.
At Midnight last night there came a heavy knocking on the piece of sacking that I call my front door, upon opening it I am greeted by Chopper, the castle woodcutter who has a bundle thrown across his shoulder. He comes in trailing snow across my new mud floor and dumps this bundle upon the hearth.
“This is yours mate” He said before leaving.
I examined this bundle and was horrified to find it was my son Oswald who was frozen solid.
I managed to thaw him out in the light of the one tallow candle and two soggy logs you graciously gave me as my Christmas bonus. After half an hour, when his teeth had stopped chattering he was able to inform me of what had befallen him.
Oswald as you will remember is employed by you as a Page at the Castle. He has been for the past 2 years.
Last night being the feast of Stephen, he was on the late shift.
Apparently, shortly after your dancing lesson, according to my son you suddenly decided to look out of the window. What you exactly expected to see my son was not sure as the snow lay all about, deep crisp and uncommonly even, however the moon was bright but the frost hideously cruel, so God knows what prompted you to stand leaning out of an unglazed window.
You then spied a peasant grovelling about in the shrubbery and called my son to the window and asked him who he was.
My son informed you it was Gunter the Gross, who in a drunken state following his habitual 14 pints of ale at the Cock and Pullet tavern was stealing the castle firewood. Upon seeing you at the window Gunter then urinated towards the castle and, whilst gesticulating in an obscene manner made references that questioned whether your Mother was actually married to your Father.
Normally such behavior would have you setting the dogs onto him or making sport of him with your crossbow. As you did with myself last Easter when one of the swine got into your vegetable garden. I wasn’t able to seat comfortably until Michaelmas.
However you were suddenly seized by the desire to do good and informed my son to go and get, pine logs, wine and all the makings of a feast, and that you and my son were going to take him his dinner.
Good God man! Did you not listen when my son told you Gunter lived a good league hence under the mountain, against the forest fence (the one you put up to keep the riff raff out of the hunting grounds) close to St Agness Fountain, that’s the hideous work of art you erected in honour of your Mother and known locally as the Floozy in the Jacuzzi.
But no! You failed to listen and set out in great haste, not even pausing to allow my son to change out of his carpet slippers. Apparently, you wanted to get there and back before your next dancing lesson. You both traipsed through the snow, my son being obliged to carry 6 pine logs, 4 sacks of assorted vegetables, three pigs, one side of beef, a Christmas tree, 2 barrels of ale , 2 flagons of wine and a burning torch which he was obliged to hold in his teeth.
You carried nothing stating it was unseemly for a King to be so burdened. However to be fair you did condescend to carry the torch after it set my sons eyebrows alight.
Owing to my sons’ short stature, the heavy objects he was carrying and the fact he was wearing his slippers he kept sinking into the snow. So you told Oswald to step in your footprints, this he attempted to do but ended up floundering about as you insisted on practicing dance steps as you went along. There is a suggestion that you swore at my son as he definitely heard the word sod used.
As king I would have expected you to have a working knowledge of your Kingdoms geography or at least had the wit to consult a map before you set out.
When you saw the ravine directly across your path you managed to turn right with a couple of practised Tango steps but failed to alert my son of the impending peril. Therefore Oswald plunged over the edge and fell 20 feet into a snow drift followed by pine logs, vegetables and three terrified pigs. The last items of wine beer and Christmas tree ensured my son was pushed deep into the drift.
An hour later two woodmen came past to see you dancing about, waving your arms around and yelling
“I am going to miss my dancing lesson and now thanks to this halfwit I am never going to become a saint!”
Oswald was dug out and then returned to the bosom of his family.
Your obsessive desire for Sainthood and to outdo your rival has now lead to my sons life being put in danger.
It is well known through out the Kingdom that you are manically driven by your jealousy of your friend Saint Vitus who not only is a Saint but is also an exceptionally good dancer!
Oswald will be tendering his resignation when he returns to work.
Yours Grovelling
Ethelred.
P.S. We will not be paying the hastily written out invoice for wasted vitals that we found shoved into Oswald’s pocket.
They came across a small box which contained various papers, one of which appeared to be an invoice for various items which had been screwed up into a ball and the other a letter addressed to Good King Wenceslaus.
The letter is set out below.
To: King Wenceslaus
The Castle
Prague
From: Ethelred Swineherd
The Hovel
Castle Grounds
Prague
27th December 930.
Dear King Wenceslaus,
I am writing to you to lodge my complaint about the atrocious working conditions and blatant disregard for all health and safety protocols practiced by yourself towards those in your employ.
Whilst I realise that there are many calls upon your time as King, namely feasting, drinking, wenching and not forgetting the inordinate amount of time and money you spend learning to dance I do feel a little more time taking an interest in those who work for you would go a long way to ease their burdens.
I give you an example of your cavalier attitude to safety.
At Midnight last night there came a heavy knocking on the piece of sacking that I call my front door, upon opening it I am greeted by Chopper, the castle woodcutter who has a bundle thrown across his shoulder. He comes in trailing snow across my new mud floor and dumps this bundle upon the hearth.
“This is yours mate” He said before leaving.
I examined this bundle and was horrified to find it was my son Oswald who was frozen solid.
I managed to thaw him out in the light of the one tallow candle and two soggy logs you graciously gave me as my Christmas bonus. After half an hour, when his teeth had stopped chattering he was able to inform me of what had befallen him.
Oswald as you will remember is employed by you as a Page at the Castle. He has been for the past 2 years.
Last night being the feast of Stephen, he was on the late shift.
Apparently, shortly after your dancing lesson, according to my son you suddenly decided to look out of the window. What you exactly expected to see my son was not sure as the snow lay all about, deep crisp and uncommonly even, however the moon was bright but the frost hideously cruel, so God knows what prompted you to stand leaning out of an unglazed window.
You then spied a peasant grovelling about in the shrubbery and called my son to the window and asked him who he was.
My son informed you it was Gunter the Gross, who in a drunken state following his habitual 14 pints of ale at the Cock and Pullet tavern was stealing the castle firewood. Upon seeing you at the window Gunter then urinated towards the castle and, whilst gesticulating in an obscene manner made references that questioned whether your Mother was actually married to your Father.
Normally such behavior would have you setting the dogs onto him or making sport of him with your crossbow. As you did with myself last Easter when one of the swine got into your vegetable garden. I wasn’t able to seat comfortably until Michaelmas.
However you were suddenly seized by the desire to do good and informed my son to go and get, pine logs, wine and all the makings of a feast, and that you and my son were going to take him his dinner.
Good God man! Did you not listen when my son told you Gunter lived a good league hence under the mountain, against the forest fence (the one you put up to keep the riff raff out of the hunting grounds) close to St Agness Fountain, that’s the hideous work of art you erected in honour of your Mother and known locally as the Floozy in the Jacuzzi.
But no! You failed to listen and set out in great haste, not even pausing to allow my son to change out of his carpet slippers. Apparently, you wanted to get there and back before your next dancing lesson. You both traipsed through the snow, my son being obliged to carry 6 pine logs, 4 sacks of assorted vegetables, three pigs, one side of beef, a Christmas tree, 2 barrels of ale , 2 flagons of wine and a burning torch which he was obliged to hold in his teeth.
You carried nothing stating it was unseemly for a King to be so burdened. However to be fair you did condescend to carry the torch after it set my sons eyebrows alight.
Owing to my sons’ short stature, the heavy objects he was carrying and the fact he was wearing his slippers he kept sinking into the snow. So you told Oswald to step in your footprints, this he attempted to do but ended up floundering about as you insisted on practicing dance steps as you went along. There is a suggestion that you swore at my son as he definitely heard the word sod used.
As king I would have expected you to have a working knowledge of your Kingdoms geography or at least had the wit to consult a map before you set out.
When you saw the ravine directly across your path you managed to turn right with a couple of practised Tango steps but failed to alert my son of the impending peril. Therefore Oswald plunged over the edge and fell 20 feet into a snow drift followed by pine logs, vegetables and three terrified pigs. The last items of wine beer and Christmas tree ensured my son was pushed deep into the drift.
An hour later two woodmen came past to see you dancing about, waving your arms around and yelling
“I am going to miss my dancing lesson and now thanks to this halfwit I am never going to become a saint!”
Oswald was dug out and then returned to the bosom of his family.
Your obsessive desire for Sainthood and to outdo your rival has now lead to my sons life being put in danger.
It is well known through out the Kingdom that you are manically driven by your jealousy of your friend Saint Vitus who not only is a Saint but is also an exceptionally good dancer!
Oswald will be tendering his resignation when he returns to work.
Yours Grovelling
Ethelred.
P.S. We will not be paying the hastily written out invoice for wasted vitals that we found shoved into Oswald’s pocket.