INCREDIBLE BUT TRUE'ish

I have bee investigating the eating habits of the Great British monarchy.

King Terrence the Second, insisted that all of his meats be cooked very well done. When once, quite by accident, an incompetent butler served him with an uncooked slumbering Ferret, the Monarch went absolutely berserk. He stabbed Sidney Boggle, the then Arch Bishop of Fife, in the thigh with a rusty prong on his toasting fork. The poor Bishop died of blood poisoning, as did the King, but a few years later, and in a different way.

During the 13th Century, King Greg VIIXCII the Third, became convinced that many of his sworn enemies, were planning to poison his food. In a blind panic he hired fifty seven food tasters, then insisted that all of his meals be sampled by each of them in turn before he would touch a single morsel. Three weeks later he died of starvation.

In 1046 King Bod IV became Britain's first Vegetarian Monarch.
After his mother, Queen Bod III, choked on a Hog, the young boy King promptly banned the consumption of all meat based products throughout his Kingdom. This led to an unprecedented explosion in the live stock population.
Culminating in the great Cattle revolt of 1048, when a herd of hungry Frisians stormed the gates of Buckingham Palace and ate all the Royal grass.

WINDFALL OF ADDICTION

One in five youngsters in Britain today are hopelessly addicted to conkers, while a further 25% admit to regular nut dabbles.
Once an innocent pastime, the nut of the horse chestnut tree has recently gained itself a sinister reputation.

The abuse unraveled in the early 90's among doomed rural illiterates who, unable to afford good drugs and trapped in areas of such poverty that nothing was worth nicking, took to cooking and injecting whatever they could lay their grubby mitts on.
After trying everything from nettles to Badger shit it was finally found that the hard brown shell of the conker, grated, braised and jabbed created an effect described by users as: "A lot like being trapped in a cheap cartoon that's also a spin dryer running out of control."
Word flew quickly around the playgrounds of Britain and now,15 years later, the grim spectre of conkers are threatening to spiral straight off the cliff. One worried teacher, a spectacled, beard wielding freak who bears a disturbing resemblance to my old maths teacher, and what an arse he was, thinks the situation is already scuppered.

"Every day I cross the playground, picking on children I hate, it's the same old song. Dozens of youths openly jittering on the floor with needles hanging out of their arms, inner-thighs, buttocks and cheeks anywhere thats still soft basically."

One of he drawbacks to a conker high is it's fairly short duration. About twenty conkers, cut, will give the user a mild rush lasting between twenty and thirty seconds. To maintain the high, addicts will often inject four or five hundred times a day. Their poor bodies end up like Turtles.

"It's so frustrating! None of the conker junkies hand their homework in on time, which makes me look a twat. They should be expelled - but our hands are tied so long as the Government refuses to make conkers illegal."

I asked my local MP why, in the face of this damning survey, they still allow conkers to be grown and knocked down with sticks and rocks around the Country.

"Because your survey is a pack of lies. Conkers aren't drugs, and no children are addicted to them. In fact, its rubbish like this that makes it hard for us to address the real problem of real drugs, namely, the fact that loads of people use and enjoy them without ever going off the rails. That is the real evil at work. Innocent, recreational usage, we are sick and tired of people experiencing any form of pleasure in the comfort of their own home, if I had my way you'd all be lobotomized..." he continued ranting as colleagues dragged him away.

Meanwhile Sir Cliff Richard is thought to be crusading against the threat with an anticipated Christmas song, using rap language to 'reach' the kids!