George may be a saint, but the dragon was much more fun

SOME old stories, properly finished off for the first time . . .

St George and the Dragon

'HAD A good day?' she said.

'Yes, thank you,' he said.

'Been hunting?' she said.

'Yes,' he said.

'Catch anything?' she said.

'Yes, he said, and threw a bag on the kitchen table.

She opened it. 'Oh, Jesus Christ, not rabbits again]' she said. 'I'm sick of rabbits. I've done them with prunes, I've done them with port, I've cooked them in wine, and I've even cooked them in herbs and cider, and I can't think of another way of cooking them. Why can't you catch something else, George?'

'You know very well why,' said George, clutching his lance. 'Because you said I wasn't to hunt any more dragons after the last one, and because once you've given up dragons, there isn't much else to hunt except bloody rabbits.'

'Why do you have to hunt

anything?'

'Because that's my job.'

'No, it's not,' she said. 'Your job is to rescue people. You're meant to find people tied up or imprisoned against their will, like I was, and release them. These rabbits you keep hunting, I suppose they were keeping wenches all tied up, were they?'

'No, they weren't,' said St George, tight-lipped.

'So you had to slay them?' she went on, unheeding. 'What a brave old St George you are, to be sure.'

'Sometimes,' said St George, 'sometimes I wish I hadn't come along and rescued you.'

'Since you mention it,' she said, 'not a day passes that I don't wish I were back again, tied up, waiting for the dragon to come and get me.'

'You'd rather be eaten by a dragon than married to me?'

'He wouldn't have eaten me,' she said. 'We got on rather well. I laughed at his jokes. He enjoyed my stories. I loved the tricks he did with fire and smoke. Then you came along and killed him. How could you have? HOW COULD YOU HAVE?'

She was screaming now. It seemed a good time to retire. He left the castle and climbed on to his horse.

'And don't come back drunk,' he heard her screaming after him. 'You mustn't drink any more, because you're a bloody saint now, aren't you?'

'Oh, God,' thought George, 'how did I ever get into this?'

But God said nothing.

The Fox and the Sour Grapes

THE fox had been jumping to get some grapes, but they were too high for him, so he said, 'I bet they were sour anyway,' and walked away.

No sooner had he gone than a pigeon came and started eating the grapes. 'Blimey,' said the pigeon. 'These grapes are the sourest I have ever eaten]'

She was wrong, because what she took for sourness was actually a coating of pesticide, which caused her to fall ill the next day and expire where she sat on the branch. Later the fox came along and saw the pigeon, apparently asleep.

'Mmm]' thought the fox. 'Sleeping pigeon] Supper]'

But however high the fox jumped, he couldn't reach the pigeon. 'Huh]' he exclaimed, as he walked away. 'I expect it was too scrawny and bony anyway.'

The Creation

1. AND on the eighth day the Lord said, Let there be Sunday newspapers.

2. And behold, there were Sunday newspapers. And the Lord looked on them, and saw that they were good and solid.

3. And the first one said: 'Lord In Creation Corruption Scandal]'

4. And the second one said:

'Adam in Gardening-on-Sabbath Rumpus]'

5. And the third one said: 'Exclusive Eve-in-the-Altogether Pix on Page Seven]'

6. And the fourth one said: 'Special Tree-of-Knowledge Sapling Offer]'

7. And God read no further, but

immediately banned all Sunday newspapers from the Garden of Eden.

And he cast the makers of Sunday papers into outer darkness, where they have flourished mightily ever since.