Tuesday, July the 4th, 2006

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Bodice-ripper

His name was Ned and he was a cad and a rascal. Given half a chance, he would rip a bodice while flashing his wolfish teeth. Ned had not got the hang of correct bodice-ripping, however, for he failed to understand that the bodices he ripped were meant to have fey damsels inside them. Ned simply headed for the nearest bodice warehouse, jemmied the lock, and, once inside, ripped all the bodices stored there by whichever needleworkers had made them. This made Ned hugely unpopular with the bodice-makers, and they ran him out of town.

So Ned found himself sat on a stone in the middle of a field, all rustic and rural. Here there seemed little opportunity for him to be caddish or rascally. There was not a bodice in sight, only some cows and a few hens and a pigsty down the way. Ned was disconsolate.

What he needed was a picaresque adventure. But such rollicking antics were not to be found in Tantarabim in days of yore, so Ned shredded cabbage instead. Whether or not you are fond of coleslaw, you have Ned to thank for its presence on your plate, or in your bowl, next to the cold mashed potatoes and the jumbo size sausages, as you sit in the canteen of your 26th century spaceship hurtling towards the weirdly crumpled planet where your destiny awaits.