by Terry Jones
So he goes to the Master of the House, and the Master of the House says: ‘He sounds like an ogre to me.’
‘But he says he’ll put up the holly and put on a nice Christmas show for the children,’ says the Gatekeeper.
‘Oh! That would be very nice,’ says the Master of the House. ‘Maybe we should let him in after all.’
But the Gatekeeper’s Daughter yells: ‘Looks like an ogre – is an ogre! Daddy! Don’t let him inF
‘What’s she doing here?’ cries the Master of the House. ‘I don’t want to be told what I can and can’t do in my own house!’ And he has the Gatekeeper’s Daughter trussed up like a turkey and locked in the Tall Tower.
Then he and the Gatekeeper go to the gate and look through the letterbox.
‘Hmm,’ says the Master of the House. ‘He may put on a very nice show for the children, but he’s as tall as three men and he’s got razor-sharp ogre’s teeth. Maybe we shouldn’t let him in after all.’
‘Oh,’ says the Ogre. ‘I’m only big because I eat … CABBAGES! and … SAUSAGES! and … RADISHES! and …’
‘And?’ says the Master of the House.
‘Absolutely nothing else at all,’ says the Gatekeeper.
‘That’s right,’ says the Ogre. And my teeth are only razor-sharp because I like whistling!’ And he whistled a little tune.
‘Well, in that case, maybe we’ll let you in,’ says the Master of the House.
But the Gatekeeper’s Daughter shouts down from the window in the Tall Tower: ‘Daddy! Don’t let him in!’
Meanwhile the Mistress of the House has come out to see what all the shouting’s about. She looks out through the letterbox and says: ‘Well, he may put on a very nice show for the children, and he may put up the holly very tastefully, but he still looks like an ogre to me.’
‘But he’s so slow,’ says the Master of the House.
‘He’d never be able to catch any of us,’ says the Gatekeeper.
‘That’s right,’ says the Ogre.
‘Well, in that case,’ says the Mistress of the House, ‘maybe he can come in.’
And, from right up in the Tall Tower, comes the voice of the Gatekeeper’s Daughter: ‘DADDY! DON’T LET HIM IN!’
But the Gatekeeper has already drawn back the first bolt on the gate. And, because she’s up in the Tall Tower, the Gatekeeper’s Daughter can see the Ogre, on the other side of the gate, starting to lick his chops. So she yells down: ‘He’s going to boil your heads for his breakfast stew!’
‘Fiddle-de-dee!’ says the Ogre.
‘Fiddle-de-dee!’ says the Master of the House.
‘Fiddle-de-dee!’ says the Mistress of the House.
And the Gatekeeper draws back the second bolt.
Now the Gatekeeper’s Daughter can see the Ogre starting to drool and slobber at the mouth.
‘He’s going to catch you all and pull off your heads!’ she cries.
‘Oh! Somebody shut her up!’ says the Mistress of the House ‘Even if he were an ogre, he’d never be able to catch any of us.’
‘That’s right,’ says the Ogre, licking his lips.
‘That’s right,’ says the Gatekeeper. ‘I’m looking forward to the Christmas show.’ And he pulls back the third bolt.
Now all that separates them from the Slow Ogre is one small latch. And the Gatekeeper’s Daughter can’t shout out anything, because someone’s tied a neckerchief round her mouth. But she’s thinking: ‘Daddy! Don’t let him in!’
And the Ogre’s drooling and slobbering and licking his lips, and the Gatekeeper’s just about to lift the latch, when he stops and says: ‘Wait a minute! My daughter’s a very smart girl. She’s usually right about most things.’
‘But she’s only a child,’ says the Master of the House.
‘And she’s still got her hair in braids,’ says the Mistress of the House.
‘That’s true,’ says the Gatekeeper, and he lifts the latch, and the Ogre bursts in and grabs everybody in the house – except for the Gatekeeper’s Daughter, because she’s locked up in the Tall Tower. Then he stuffs them all into the big black bag that he always carries, and races off back to his lair – for you must know that the Slow Ogre can move surprisingly quickly when it’s a question of making his breakfast stew.
Now, the Gatekeeper’s Daughter is still trussed up like a turkey, but she manages to wriggle free. She rips the neckerchief from her mouth. Then she takes the rope with which she’d been tied, hangs it out of the window and slides down it… right to the ground.
Then she runs back into her father’s bedroom, stuffs all his smelliest old socks into a pillowcase, and races off to the Ogre’s lair.
The Ogre’s got a cauldron of water coming up to the boil, and he’s got all the people locked up in his great iron meat-safe. And they’re all moaning and crying and blaming each other for not having taken more notice of the Gatekeeper’s Daughter.
The Gatekeeper’s Daughter, meanwhile, has marched straight up to the Ogre’s front door and knocked on it. (That’s a very brave thing to do, and I don’t think even she would have done it if she hadn’t had a very good plan.)
The Ogre’s just thinking: ‘Hm! The water’s coming to the boil, so I can pop in a few heads… but first I need a bit of seasoning. I’d better borrow some of the gentlemen’s socks… ’ (I hope you haven’t forgotten that he always liked gentlemen’s socks in his breakfast stew – the smellier the better.)
So he’s just about to open the meat-safe and grab all the gentlemen to see who’s got the smelliest socks, when he hears the knock on the door.
‘S’funny!’ says the Ogre to himself. ‘Nobody likes me. Nobody ever comes to visit me. Nobody ever knocks on my door.’
But he goes to the door anyway (only it takes him an hour or so because he’s starting to get a bit slower again) and he opens it.
There’s the Gatekeeper’s Daughter, holding the pillowcase full of her father’s smelliest socks.
‘Something smells good!’ exclaims the Ogre. And he’s just going to grab the Gatekeeper’s Daughter to pop her into his mouth as a pre-breakfast snack, when she opens up the pillowcase, and the Ogre can’t help sticking his head inside, because the Gatekeeper’s socks smell so good.
Then, quick as a flash, she ties the pillowcase around his neck with the rope. And the Ogre starts flailing around, going: ‘Oh! I can’t see! It’s all gone dark! Oh! But it’s so delicious! The smell is like… it’s like… heaven… yum, yum, yum… ’
And while he’s blundering around, getting slower and slower, unable to decide whether to take the pillowcase off his head, so he can see, or to keep it on his head, so he can go on smelling the socks, the Gatekeeper’s Daughter – quick as a flash – opens up the Ogre’s meat-safe and lets everyone out. They all dash for the door and run off as far away as possible from the Ogre’s lair.
The Ogre, meanwhile, has decided to sit down in his favourite cosy chair, while he takes the pillowcase off his head – only he’s moving much slower by this time. The Gatekeeper’s Daughter sees what he’s going to do, and – in the time it takes him to get over to his favourite cosy chair and start to sit down – she’s switched it, so that instead of sitting down in his favourite cosy chair, the Ogre sits down right in the cauldron of boiling water!
By the time the Ogre’s realized what’s happened, and before he can get the pillowcase off his head and get himself out again … he’s cooked – right through! And so are the socks!
When the Gatekeeper’s Daughter gets home, her father makes a great fuss of her and says: ‘In future, Chloë, we’ll always listen to you.’ And the Master of the House and the Mistress of the House all nod in agreement. And Chloë looks at them all smiling down at her and she says to herself: ‘Hmm! I wonder if you will?’
THE FAST ROAD
THERE USED TO BE ONE ROAD that got you to wherever you wanted to go much quicker than any other road. It looked like a perfectly ordinary road. But the moment you stepped onto it, you got w
herever it was you wanted to go to… That is if you knew where you wanted to go. Unfortunately most folk weren’t absolutely sure. They liked the idea of getting somewhere so much that they often stepped onto the road before they’d really decided where it was that they wanted to end up.
And – when you did that – this is what would happen:
You’d step on the road and start walking. For a moment it would seem just like walking along any old road, but then, as you walked on a bit further, you’d find the countryside slipping past as though you were running – even though you were still just walking. The next minute, the countryside would be speeding past – as if you were galloping on a horse, and before you knew where you were, there would be just a blur on either side of you, as the world flashed past quicker than the eye could see…
And if you didn’t know where you were going, it would just go on getting faster and faster and faster until… all of a sudden! It would stop.
And when you looked around you, you would see this:
Nothing.
Nothing to your left. Nothing to your right. Nothing in front of you. Nothing behind you. Nothing… Nothing, that is, except for people wandering around quite lost.
Well, here is the story of a girl, named Poppy, who stepped onto the Fast Road, and who didn’t have the first clue where she was heading.
The moment she stepped onto the Fast Road, she had an idea that something was going to happen, but she couldn’t imagine what.
To begin with, of course, it was just like walking along any other road, but very soon she noticed the countryside slipping past faster than she was walking. Then, before she could work out what was happening, she found the countryside whizzing past her – as if she were galloping on a horse! And the next minute, it was all a blur – flashing past her on both sides – so fast that she couldn’t make out anything. The fields were just a blur of green. Cows and sheep were like stripes of brown and white. It all went faster and faster and faster until… all of a sudden!… It stopped.
Poppy almost fell over herself, it was so sudden. But she shook her head, and looked around. And do you know what she could see? That’s right…
Nothing.
Nothing to her left. Nothing to her right. Nothing in front of her. Nothing behind her. There were plenty of people wandering around, but she could see they were quite lost.
Poppy picked herself up and said: ‘Well, I wonder where I am?’ Then she stepped off the road and walked across the flat nothingness towards the horizon.
After a while, she saw something in the distance, and as she got nearer, she saw that it was a strange building. It was as tall as a mountain and it was full of people. But the really extraordinary thing was that the building didn’t have an inside! It was all outside!
At the bottom, was a man behind a desk.
‘Can you tell me where I am?’ asked Poppy.
‘This is Nowhere In Particular,’ replied the man. ‘Would you like to sign the Guest Book?’
‘I’ll not sign the book,’ said Poppy, ‘because I’m not stopping, but is it all right if I look around?’
‘Help yourself,’ said the man. ‘There’s nothing particular here.’
So Poppy climbed the stairs that led all round the outside of the building.
On the first floor, she met a family who were sitting on stools looking at a stone.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ asked Poppy.
‘We’re stone-watching,’ replied the whole family, without taking their eyes off the stone.
‘Stone-watching?’ said Poppy. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing. Isn’t it extremely boring?’
‘Oh no!’ exclaimed the father.
‘But stones don’t do anything,’ said Poppy.
‘But this one might!’ exclaimed the mother.
‘And we’ll be the first to see it when it does!’ exclaimed the children. ‘Why don’t you come and join us?’
But Poppy shook her head. ‘I may not know where I’m going,’ she said, ‘but you’ll not catch me watching stones!’
And on she climbed, up the staircase that wound around the outside of the strange building.
A little further up, she found a man with a broom, sweeping the floor as hard as he could.
‘Excuse me,’ said Poppy, ‘can you tell me where I’m going?’
‘I’ll tell you just as soon as I’ve finished getting this room clean,’ he said, without once raising his head.
‘But it’s already as clean as clean can be!’ exclaimed Poppy.
‘Oh no!’ said the man with the broom. ‘Look! There’s another speck of dust there!’
‘Well,’ said Poppy, ‘I can’t wait around for you to finish making a clean room clean.’
‘But look!’ exclaimed the man. ‘If you took that other broom, we’d get it done in half the time!’
‘Sorry,’ said Poppy. ‘Half of never is still never!’
And with that she climbed on her way, up the staircase that led around the outside of the strange house.
Well, up she went, up and up, until finally she reached a place that was full of people lying on their backs with their mouths wide open.
‘Excuse me!’ said Poppy. ‘I’m trying to find out where I’m going. Can you help me?’
But the people just lay on their backs, and they didn’t close their mouths for a minute. But one of them said: ‘’Ooee ‘ank ‘elk ‘oo. ‘Orry.’
‘’Ooee ‘ank ‘elk ‘oo?’ said Poppy. ‘Oh! You mean “We can’t help you!’”
‘’At’s ‘ight,’ said the man.
‘Well, just tell me what you’re doing, and then I’ll get on my way,’ said Poppy.
‘’Ooee’re‘atching grocks og ‘ain ‘orter,’ said the man.
‘’Ain ‘orter?’ said Poppy. ‘Oh! Rain water! But it’s not raining.’
‘’Ick ‘ill ‘oon,’ said the man.
‘Not today,’ said Poppy.
‘It’s ‘udderly ‘orter!’ said the man.
‘I’m sure it’s lovely water,’ replied Poppy, ‘but I’m on my way.’
Well, she didn’t need to climb much further, before she suddenly found herself right on the top of the strange building. And from there she could see for miles and miles around. And right in the very far distance, she could see a little house, where a woman was working in the kitchen.
‘Wait a minute! That’s where I’m going!’ she exclaimed.
And she ran down that building as fast as she possibly could, past the Mouths-Wide-Open, past the Man with the Broom, past the Stone-Watchers, and past the Man at the Gate. Then she ran and she didn’t stop until she’d reached the Fast Road.
‘I’m going home!’ she shouted, and she started to walk. And before she’d taken a couple of steps… there she was – home!
‘Well,’ said Poppy, as she helped her mother prepare supper, ‘at least I know where I’m going in future – I’m only going where I can do something useful! And I’ll tell you another thing… I also know where I’m not going! And – what’s more – I’m never taking the Fast Road to either place!’
THE SONG THAT BROUGHT HAPPINESS
A WANDERING MINSTREL once composed a magical song that made everyone who heard it glad. No matter how many cares weighed them down, this song made them forget them. No matter how miserable their lives, all those who listened to this song felt happy again. But the happiness, of course, only lasted as long as the song. As soon as the song ceased, everyone’s cares returned.
The minstrel wandered around from country to country, singing his magical song, and bringing happiness to people for as long as he sang it. One day, however, he sang it at the court of an evil old king, who made all his subjects as miserable as he was himself. Well, the moment the minstrel began to sing his magical song, it was as if a shadow had been lifted from the entire court. Everyone forgot the injustices and humiliations that were daily heaped upon them by the evil old king, and felt a happiness that they had forgotten existed. Eve
n the old king himself started to smile at those around him, and for the first time in years he felt peace in his shrivelled old heart.
As soon as the song stopped, however, the deepest gloom returned to the palace.
The minstrel bowed and began to take his leave of the company, but the evil old king stopped him.
‘Play that song again!’ commanded the king.
‘Excuse me, Your Majesty,’ replied the minstrel. ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, but I have a rule that I only play my songs once – lest I outstay my welcome.’
‘I order you to play that song again,’ said the king. ‘Otherwise I will have you thrown into prison.’
So there was nothing for it – the minstrel had to play the song once more, and once more the gloom lifted from the palace, and everyone felt happy.
When he had finished, the minstrel once again began to take his leave, but again the old king stopped him.
‘Keep singing!’ he ordered. ‘I will tell you when you may stop.’
So the poor minstrel was forced to go on singing the magical song that made everyone happy, over and over again, until everyone started to grow sleepy. Heads nodded and fell onto the tables, and finally the old king himself fell asleep over his plate.
Then the minstrel tried to leave once more, but the guards barred his way.
‘The king has not said you can stop singing yet,’ they said, and they showed him the sharp blades of their swords.
So, once again, the minstrel had to sing the magical song, over and over again, and carry on – even though weary himself – until everyone in the palace had fallen asleep. Then he tried to steal out of the great hall.
But, as luck would have it, just as he was closing the door behind him, the old king awoke.
‘Come back!’ roared the king. ‘I never want to feel miserable again! You must carry on playing that magical song for me, day and night!’ And he appointed guards to stand by the minstrel to see that he did.
