Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above* the woods was haunted by the wailing of the bestial accordions as we sat around the smouldering of the latest Estate Agent unfortunate enough to stumble into the outskirts of Little Frigging. As we sat around the fire, the old ones began to tell the tales. Tales of brave and noble ancestors of legend who would bravely venture out to explore the very edges of perversion and the outer fringes of the erotic arts. Such great heroes such as Splurt Manlitool who was – as legend had it – capable of effortlessly satisfying every maiden in a village, whilst in-between each dalliance licking each of his eyebrows in turn.
Then there were the many adventures of a young princess and her many romantic nights with rugby players and brave soldiers and her sad and tragic early death when her coach turned back into a pumpkin right in the middle of a Parisian underpass.
Then there is the – no doubt over familiar to you – story of Sindrella and the glass sexual aid given to her by her Fairy Godmother on the night Sinner (as she was known) was about to meet her Handsome Prince for the balling of a lifetime. We all know what happen that night. We also know what happened the morning after when the young prince discovered the love of his life was also known as Snow White, because that was often the way she ended up after spending a quiet evening in with the seven dwarves she lived with in a small cottage in the forest.
However, with the aid of a special technique taught to her by her Fairy Godmother one evening, Sinner was able to win back her Prince and live happily ever after. Although, for many years later - it is rumoured - she was unable to read the label on a jar of three-fruit marmalade in the near vicinity of an Airedale terrier without giggling.
*Dylan Thomas – Fern Hill