The jangly woman wasn’t joking when she said we wouldn’t last an hour.
Barely twenty minutes into our flight, a bellowing horn blast rattled our ribcages and sent Margaret into a panicked bucking frenzy. Given that I’d only been mutilated half an hour earlier and hadn’t quite mastered the art of riding one handed, I was immediately slung from my sow and treated to a mouthful of hot sand.
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After several joyous hours of gorging and wining, my face had turned purple and my waistline was thrice its usual size. I was staggering around the bonfire trying to find somewhere to wee, but every dark corner was occupied by lecherous couples engaged in rampant canoodling and/or unbridled fondling. Eventually I decided there was nothing else for it and whizzed in a pair of old boots I found under a bench.
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Chapter One
What? Don’t look at me like that. I’m the King, if I want to suddenly introduce chapters, that’s my prerogative and if you disagree then you can just – well, you’re not allowed to disagree so DON’T EVEN BOTHER THINKING ABOUT IT OR I’LL PACK YOU INTO A TREBUCHET AND SLING YOU INTO THE MOUNTAINS. It just makes sense to segment things a bit. Builds a sense of momentum, but at the same time, gives the readers a bit of a rest – a chance to go shuck a turnip or whatever the foisty masses like to do with their spare time. You know my peasants have the attention span of a gnat. Hang on did— did you write that down? No? Promise? Okay, good.
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