Bellybabe's suitably wordy 1000th post

[bellybabe]

Once upon a time, there was a magical land named Portobello. In it there dwelt many happy people. Life was peaceful for the prosperous townsfolk, and they went happily about their business, eating organic meat from the award-winning butchers, wholefoods from the deli, fresh fruit and vegetables from the greengrocers, and the occasional fat-soaked, offal-laden, heart attack-inducing lunch from the bakers’. (Before the reader takes offence, in each bakers’ shop in our idyllic land there works more than one baker…) Adolescents and staff in the local supermarket store were held in particularly high esteem. The people of Portobello were an industrious folk, and at the end of the working day they took their ease walking along the golden sands, strolling through the lush green parks, swimming in the pool, or taking some refreshment at one of the many delightful hostelries, where one could enjoy delightful food whilst being entertained with folk music or sport, boxing and wrestling being particularly popular amongst those partaking of liquid victuals. Many of the townsfolk were so proud of their home they wore clothing proclaiming their allegiance; they had a banner placed outside the town hall, and often used a magical communication system to talk about the wonders of their home, from its many feline inhabitants to its flowering cherry trees.

One day, though, trouble came to this idyllic seaside town. An ogre who lived nearby noticed Portobello for the first time, and he thought that it would be an excellent place to build a monster hotel, where other ogres could come to stay. The townsfolk were most distressed by this, as they knew the other ogres had been to similar small towns and had destroyed them. The ogres used to come into towns and villages and decide to stay, and they would eat up all of the local business people, spitting out the bones and using them to build extra bits like restaurants onto their hotels. Then when there were no businesses left in the town, the ogres’ hotels would be the only places left where the people could go to eat and drink. The ogres would make the farmers sell their food to them for just a few pennies, leaving the country folk to go hungry for want of a fair trading system, and the townsfolk would have to pay the highest prices for the poorest fayre.

The townsfolk decided that they would not let the ogre build his hotel and destroy their town, and they began to make plans to stop him. First they sent a deputation to the Queen and King, asking them to tell the ogre he wasn’t allowed to build his hotel at the seaside. The Queen and King said that they would tell him, but first they had to go on holiday because it was very tiring listening to townsfolk complain about the ogres. The townsfolk went away happy, but when the Queen and King came back from their holiday and told the ogre that he couldn’t build his hotel at the seaside, the ogre became quite cross, and showed them a piece of paper that said “Now hear ye; all pronouncements refusing ogres permission to build big things must be made by the Tuesday before the Queen and King actually make them. Signed, The Queen and The King.â€Â

[Porty]

Congrats BB. Will read that later, when i have a few mins. Well done.

[foxy]

[Maria]

[dccairns]

[Dadaist]

Brilliant, I chuckled at the bit where they turn their ploughshares into weapons.

[Pal of Porty]

Well done BB, a lovely P rt bell tale.

I will try it out tonight on a real live little person.

[Beach Babe]

well done Bellybabe

[CatzVP]

You dont look a day over 900

nice tale!