Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a handsome prince called Pete. He was very good-looking, and had all kinds of girls making passes at him because they were all enraptured by his amazing sense of humour, his big blue eyes and his cute bottom. However, his mother and father wanted him to marry a real princess because not only were they snobs but they also thought that if he did marry a princess then Pete would have a better chance of becoming king after they had died. If Pete married a commoner, then the crown would automatically go to his mad brother, Keith, and everyone decided that that would not do at all. So Pete’s parents decided to make it their mission to find Pete a wife, not just a wife, but a princess. After all, Keith had already married a princess who was just as mad and deranged as him, so surely somewhere they would find a sane princess for Pete.

“Jast maik sure she ain’t got a fing fer peas, an’ can yer get a pretty one fer me?” were Pete’s only criteria in his parent’s princess/wife-finding mission.

“Peas?” his mother repeated, totally confused.

“Sam princesses laik sleepin’ on ‘em or sammink,” Pete explained.

“But your sister-in-law is totally deranged, and she doesn’t sleep on peas!” she protested.

“She laiks sleepin’ on Keef, I fink that’s deranged enaf in itsewf!” he answered. His mother sighed.

“As you wish,” she replied. The search began. Pete’s friends Rogie and Johnny came over to the palace to keep him company.

“So, ‘ow’s the bird ‘ant goin’, Pait?” Johnny asked. Pete shook his head.

“Terribuw. I wish I could marry ‘ooevah I wanted, bat if I do, Keef’ll becam King, an’ I don’t fink Mum an’ Dad wiw be ovahly impressed wiv that!” he answered. Rogie shrugged.

“Wew, I’m sure you’ll get samone. Besides, you’re gettin’ very popular wiv every bird in the cantry! Everyone wants ter be a princess jast so they can marry yer!” he told him.

“Wew, Mum an’ Dad will only ‘ave me marry a real princess,” Pete sighed.

“They ain’t as good as normuw gels, y’knaw,” Johnny informed him. Pete and Rogie stared at him.

“’Ow the ‘ew jew knaw?” they demanded. Johnny grinned.

“No comment!” he answered. Keith jumped into the room on a pretend horse, with his wife close behind.

“Junny, you’re lyin’!” he called as he trotted through the front room and out into the garden with his wife, who was called Spevvy. “Tally-ho, dear boys!” he called over his shoulder. Rogie looked at Pete.

“Is ‘e allowed ta saiy ‘ho’ in a fairy story?” he asked. Pete shrugged.

“I fink it’s a different sort, an’ besides, Keef nevah obeys rules, das ‘e?” he answered. They shook their heads. Keith never did.

Well, his mother and father soon came rushing in, all excited.

“Pete! We’ve found someone for you!” they declared.

“Oh, joy…” Pete murmured sarcastically.

“No, she’s not called Joy, she’s called Sally Simpson!” they replied. Pete looked at them suspiciously.

“That don’t sahnd laik a princessy naim ter me!” he protested.

“She is, she’s just a poor princess whose parents didn’t have enough imagination to give her a prettier name!” they explained. He shrugged. “She’s very pretty, though, and she doesn’t like peas at all,” they added. They brought her in to see him, and he took one look at her and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, dahlin’, bat I cahn’t marry yer,” he decided.

“Why ever not?!” everyone asked in unison.

“Cos yer look yang enaf ter be me dawtah!” he explained. “Sorry, love, faind samone yer own age, see ya!” Sally hung her head.

“It was worth a try, I suppose…” she muttered as she went outside and bumped into a rock musician who came from California. She promptly fell in love with him and married him only seconds later. Pete’s mother turned to him.

“I don’t understand you, when are you ever going to find the woman of your dreams?” she moaned for at least the fiftieth time that day.

“Wew, accordin’ ter my knowledge o’ fairy stowries, the next person ‘oo knocks on this door wiw be ‘er!” Rogie informed them. They all stared at the door hopefully. Several hours later, there was indeed a knock at the door. Panic ensued.

“Ooh, ‘ow do I look?” Pete asked, nervously, brushing his fingers through his hair and looking at himself in the mirror.

“You look lovely, son, just answer the door,” his mother answered, brushing a bit of dandruff off of his shoulder. He nervously went to the door, and opened the door slowly.

“’Ello, ‘ow may I… Oh, Mr Milkman, it’s you,” he declared, disappointed. Pete’s mother and father glared at Rogie.

“Wot?” he asked, defensively. “I only said accordin’ ter my knowledge o’ fairy stowries, I nevah said ‘ow knowledgeable in fairy stowries I was!”

“’E’s raight, y’know!” Johnny reminded them.

Pete quickly got rid of the milkman and came back into the room to sit down. There was another knock at the door.

“Hello? Is anyone in?” called a voice.

“Jast cammin’!” Pete answered, running up to the door and opening it. Outside the door stood a beautiful young girl.

“Phwoargh!” exclaimed Johnny and Rogie. Pete did too, but it was in his head so it didn’t count.

“’Ow may I ‘ewp ya?” Pete finally asked.

“I’m looking for Prince Pete, I heard he was looking to marry a princess, and I am one, so I thought I’d come and see him,” she replied. He smiled.

“Wew, madam, I’m pleased to repowt that I am Prince Pait, an’ I’m very very pleased ta meetcha!” he told her, kissing her hand and showing her inside. His mother took one look at her and shook her head.

“There’s no WAY you’re a princess!” she declared.

“Why evah not?” Pete asked, confused.

“Because she’s got dirty shoes! Princesses don’t have dirty shoes!” she explained. Her husband rolled his eyes.

“Well, of all the ridiculous ideas I’ve ever heard!” he began, exasperated. “Look, love, what’s your dad’s name?” he asked the alleged princess.

“Thomas,” she replied.

“And he’s king of?” he prompted her.

“Tank Engines.”

“That explains it. She’s a real princess, all right. If you like her, Pete, you can marry her, I’ve no objections. I’m the King around here, I’m not having any arguments!” he told them all, glaring at the queen as he spoke his last few words. She gulped and shuffled her feet nervously. Pete turned to the princess.

“Jew ‘ave a naim, fair princess?” he asked.

“Clara,” she answered.

“Sach a pretty naim,” Rogie smiled.

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, wiping a tear away.

“Would you marry me, Princess Clara?” Pete asked, hopefully. She nodded.

“That’s why I came here,” she explained.

“Yes, she does have a point there, Pete,” his father added.

“Yeah. Okaiy, set the weddin’ fer this taim next week,” Pete decided.

“Oh, Pete, you sound so sexy when you’re being decisive!” Clara told him.

“Oi, Pait, when you’ve finished wiv ‘er, can I ‘ave a go?” Rogie asked, hopefully. Pete glared at him. “Okaiy, jast arskin’!” he muttered.

And so Pete and Clara got married and lived happily ever after. Unfortunately, due to a mere technicality which had been forgotten by Pete’s mother and father (the technicality being that Pete was the younger of the two sons), when they died, the throne was passed to his mad brother Keith anyway, and he and his wife ruled for many years in happy chaos. As long as they ruled, their country was the place to have parties!