Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a nasty evil man who went by the name of Baron Daltrey. He had two sons from a marriage which ended by the mysterious death of his first wife. I use the word ‘mysterious’ because she was found with a can of whipped cream in her hand, and it took surgeons over two hours just to get the smile off her face. The sons were called Petrov and Johan. Baron Daltrey remarried a rich lady who also sadly died. She too had been married before, and the result of her first ill-fated marriage was a young man named Moonerella (she was a hippy, so they felt it their duty to give their son a ridiculous name). When Lily, Baron Daltrey’s second wife, died, he was left to look after all three boys on his own, with only her pictures to, ahem, entertain him. Unfortunately, because Moonerella was only his stepson, Baron Daltrey made him sleep in the cellar with the mice and do all of the housework on his own. If Moonerella ever complained, Baron Daltrey would personally see to it that Moonerella was beaten to within an inch of his life. Despite this nasty treatment, Moonerella remained a lovely man.
One bright sunshiny day, Moonerella was cleaning the toilet out with a toothbrush when there was a knock at the door. He went to answer it, literally up to the elbows in, er, muck.
“’Ello, Mr. Postman, ‘ow can I ‘ewp ya?” Moonerella asked politely, smiling a very cute smile at the postman.
“’Ello, Moonerella, I’ve cam wiv a letter fer your stepfarvah, it’s from the palace!” the postman explained. Moonerella’s big brown eyes widened with excitement.
“Wow, that’s great! Is ‘e to get a new taitle?” he asked.
“Nah, there’s ta be a ‘uge partaiy fer the beautiful Princess Helger’s eighteenf birfdaiy. Aw the posh peepuw an’ particularly their sans are to attend. ‘S the law,” the postman replied.
“Why particularly their sans?” Moonerella inquired.
“’Cos the princess wiw be choosin’ ‘er ‘asband from the eligibuw yang men in attendance! The partaiy’s termorrer naight, yi’d best get yersewf spruced ap if yer wanna be in wiv a charnce!” he advised, handing the letter to Moonerella, who took it to his stepfather as fast as his little legs could carry him.
“Er, Stepfarvah, the powstman’s jast cam wiv a lettah from the palace!” he explained excitedly. Baron Daltrey snatched the letter out of Moonerella’s hand and read it out loud to his sons Petrov and Johan.
“It says ‘Termorrer naight there wiw be a ‘uge ball at the palace, an’ aw the eligibuw yang men ‘oo ‘ave rich farvahs are to attend!’” he told them. Petrov and Johan looked up from their game of chess.
“Why do we ‘ave ta go, Dad?” Petrov asked.
“I’m not your dad, I’m your farvah!” Baron Daltrey reminded him, angrily, “You ‘ave ta go ‘cos the beautifuw Princess ‘Elgah is ter choose ‘er ‘asband from the yang men ‘oo attend the partaiy!” he explained. Johan clapped his hands in glee.
“Jew fink she’ll want as?” he asked. Baron Daltrey shook his head, but told them to go anyway, just in case.
“Wot abaht me?” asked Moonerella.
“Wot abaht you?” Baron Daltrey answered, “I ‘ope you don’t fink you’re goin’ an’ aw!”
“Bat, Stepfarvah, it says that it’s the law!” Moonerella protested, “You maight get inter trabbuw wiv the King if ya don’t taik me!”
“Nevah maind the King! You’re ‘andsome, an’ clevah, an’ witty, an’ everyfink that Petrov an’ Johan aren’t! Princess ‘Elgah is sure ta wanna marry you, an’ I cahn’t taik that charnce!” Baron Daltrey replied.
“Why not?” asked Moonerella, Petrov and Johan together.
“Cos if ‘e goes, then ‘oo’s goina do ev’ryfink for as?” Baron Daltrey reasoned. Petrov and Johan nodded.
“You got a point there, Dad, uh, Farvah!” Petrov answered.
“I knaw I ‘ave, I’m your farvah, don’t argue wiv me! Naw, Moonerella, you get ev’ryfink ready for as fer termorrer naight, an’ if it’s aw dan in taim then maybe I’ll let yer go!” he bargained. Moonerella nodded in agreement and went on his merry little way to get everything ready. The next night came and Petrov and Johan were ready and looking beautiful.
“Oi, Moonerella! We’re ready ta go naw!” called Baron Daltrey, “Are ya cammin’ or wot?” They heard dainty footsteps coming down the stairs and soon they could see Moonerella, wearing what he always wore, a target top and blue jeans.
“You not cammin’?” asked Petrov. Moonerella nodded.
“Yeah, this is aw I’ve got ta wear!” he answered. Baron Daltrey rolled his eyes.
“I’m not leddin’ yer aut laik that!” he informed him as he ushered Petrov and Johan out of the door and slammed it behind him, locking it tightly. Moonerella stared at the door in disbelief, how could his stepfather leave him out of a party? He was so upset that he ran to the cellar in floods of tears.
“It’s so awfuw! The one charnce I ‘ad of gettin’ aut o’ this smelly liddle ‘ell-‘ole, an’ I’m not allowed ta go!” he sobbed to his mice friends who lived in the cellar with him.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will work out just fine!” they answered.
“’Ow can yer be so sure?” he asked in disbelief.
“Because this is a fairy story and they always have happy endings!” they replied. He sighed.
“Fank goodness! It was lookin’ pretty ‘opeless fer a whail, bat naw I knaw I’ll be okaiy, I’m ‘appy!” he smiled. All of a sudden there was a blinding flash of light in the room and when it died down, Moonerella looked up to see a pretty young lady holding a magic wand.
“’Oo are you?” he asked in wonder.
“I’m your fairy godmavvah!” she replied. “Naw stick the kettle on an’ maik as a cappa tea!” she ordered. Moonerella willingly obeyed and, as she drank, she talked to him.
“Naw, y’knaw it’s in my job description to ‘ewp ya in taims of crisis?” she began. Moonerella nodded. “Wew, your liddle mausy friends ‘ave tol’ me that you wanna go to a do an’ cop orf wiv a beautifuw princess so you can escape from the squalor in which you are naw livin’. Am I raight so far?” Again, Moonerella nodded. She stood up, wand in hand and smiled at him. “So, wot I’ll do fer you is, I’ll give ya a new suit, one that shows orf that cute liddle bottom o’ yours, an’ I’ll magic ap a new sports car fer you ter draive ap there in style!” she decided. A couple of minutes and a few bibbity-bobbity-boo’s later, Moonerella was transformed into, er, a very clean and handsome looking chappie.
“Wot’s the catch?” he asked suspiciously.
“Wew, yer ‘ave ter be ‘ome by free in the mownin’,” she answered.
“Free? That’s dead lait!” he exclaimed.
“Wew, Princess Helger is a raight partaiy animuw, so she’ll be ap till abaht six!” his fairy godmother told him.
“Wot ‘appens if I’m ‘ome arfta free in the mownin’?” Moonerella asked.
“If you get ‘ome arfta that then your car will turn into a cucamber and you will return to wearing the target top and jeans you were wearing befow,” his fairy godmother informed him.
“Why a cucamber an’ not a pampkin?” Moonerella wondered out loud.
“Cos it’s the wrong taim o’ year for pampkins you noggin!” she answered in total exasperation. “Naw sod orf an’ get the princess!” she ordered. Moonerella grinned and hopped into his little sports car and zoomed off. Half an hour later he arrived at the palace and wandered in.
“Petrov and Johan Daltrey, sons of Baron Daltrey!” announced an old man who must’ve been a servant or something. Petrov and Johan walked up to Princess Helger and bowed gracefully to her. She smiled at them and asked how they were.
“Petrov, you’re pretty cute, y’know!” she told him. He blushed and thanked her. “A bit too eager to please… but cute all the same!” she added, sighing. She was really hoping a gorgeous young man with a great sense of humour and a cute bottom would walk through the doors. All of a sudden she saw Moonerella walk in nervously. She gasped in shock and stood up.
“Stop that geezer!” she ordered the guards, who ran up to and caught Moonerella in a wrestling type grip. “I said STOP him, not HURT him! You’re all fired!” she yelled, angrily. “Bring him here!” she demanded. They obeyed. “Right, now hop it!” They left and she turned to Moonerella and smiled at him. “Hiya, what’s your name, dear boy?” she asked.
“It’s, uh, Moonerella, but you can call me Moonie,” he replied.
“Oh I can, can I?” she asked, winking at him. “I like, you, Moonie, you’re cool. Come and dance with me, would you? I’m fed up of meeting people,” she invited him, grinning cheekily. He gulped.
“I’m sorry, Princess, but I’ve nevah dahnced befow,” he replied, sadly.
“Now, Moonie, come on, I’m sure you won’t object to being taught how to dance by a princess, would you?” she asked.
“Wew, no,” he began.
“Precisely. And call me Helger, ‘Princess’ is way too formal, we’re all friends here, aren’t we?” she told him.
Well, they danced through the night, and they held each other tight, and before too long, they fell in love with each other. [AUTHOR’S NOTE: If Paul McCartney reads this, please don’t sue me for nicking your line!]
“Moonie, I’ve never felt this groovy with anyone before!” Helger told him.
“An’ I fink you’re really hip too, Helger, bat, I fink there’s sammink abaht me you should knaw,” he began. Before he opened his mouth to continue, he looked at the clock. It was five to three. “Oh no!” he gasped, “I ‘ave ta go raight naw!” he explained hurriedly as he dashed off. “It was great meetin’ ya, Helger!” he called over his shoulder. She ran after him, but he’d gone, leaving behind a spare target top which he always carried with him in case he spilt something down his front. She gracefully bent down to pick it up and held it close to her.
“I’ve got to find him…” she decided as she went back inside the palace. The night continued in fine style, the princess still being the life and soul, although she missed Moonerella terribly.
The next day she sent out an order that every young man in the kingdom should try on Moonerella’s target top, and whoever it fitted she would know was indeed Moonerella. Well, the men from the palace went to every house in the kingdom with the top and it didn’t fit anyone at all. Finally they came to Baron Daltrey’s house, uh, chateau, and knocked on the door. Moonerella answered the door.
“Can I ‘ewp ya?” he asked politely. He looked down at the cushion with his target top on. “’Ey, wot are you doin’ wiv my target top?” he demanded.
“It’s yours?” the man from the palace asked in disbelief. Moonerella nodded.
“Cowse it is! I’m the good guy, ‘s not in my job description to tell lies, is it?” he answered. The man from the palace looked at him.
“Well, would you care to try it on?” he inquired, holding it out to him. Moonerella nodded again and took his top off and slipped the top which was given to him on. It was a perfect fit. The man from the palace gasped.
“It really is you!” he breathed in relief. Moonerella looked confused.
“Wot’s really me?” he asked.
“Haven’t you heard? You left this at the palace last night! The princess has fallen madly in love with you and has demanded that you be brought to the palace straightaway because she wants to marry you!” the man from the palace explained. Moonerella smiled.
“Groovy!” he answered. He turned around and yelled to Baron Daltrey, “Stepfarvah! I’m outta ‘ere, the princess ‘as fallen in love wiv me an’ wants ta marry me! See ya!” And with that, he went with the man from the palace to see the princess. When she saw him she was thrilled and ran over to him.
“Moonie! Will you marry me? I can ask you, it’s a leap year!” she begged. Moonerella nodded eagerly.
“I’d love to!” he replied as he kissed her in a sort of fairy story type way.
They got married the next afternoon and lived happily ever after, like everyone does in fairy stories.