This is the last preview of my new book, Unhappily Ever After.

It’s not only here on Earth that we suffer from politics, the Red Party has infiltrated Fairyland as well and the man they chose to carry the message further was the Green Giant.

The Giant planned his strategy. Devoted though he was to his job, he’d been well trained in incitement without personal involvement – which briefly translated means you make the bullets and get others to fire them. Never be seen at the forefront of any action, remember the Party needs you, so don’t take any personal risks.

He had no intentions of risking his own skin, despite what he preached, he was a coward at heart, so he must find a second-in-command through whom he could manipulate the masses.

The way to most peasants’ hearts was through their stomachs, so he lashed out on a dozen boxes of tea bags, four kilos of sugar, a few pints of milk, and offered free mugs of tea to all who would attend a meeting in the old barn by the crossroads at sunset.

By mid evening, the barn was filled with a villainous collection of people, garbed in a motley selection of torn and tatty trousers and shirts, some even had boots, most were not so fortunate. The air was filled with expectancy and the odour of human sweat from unwashed bodies. Most of the peasants had never seen a bath, much less a bar of soap.

There came the sound of approaching footsteps and a hush fell over the assembly. The steps drew closer, came right to the outer door and then stopped. Those inside stopped breathing, holding themselves rigid, fearful yet excited. There came a loud knocking on the door, three short, three long, three short. The nearest peasant rose and going to the door hesitantly opened it an inch or two.

On the threshold stood the Green Giant, dressed in a smart green suit reminiscent of Robin Hood. His shirt was a snowy white, his cap was tall and rose to a point, a feather stuck jauntily in the band.

He entered, slowly running his eyes over the assembled crowd, and for a moment a flicker of distaste registered on his face. Then he smiled and throwing his arms wide he stepped into the middle of the room to greet them.

“Brothers!” His voice had that hypnotic quality known to such leaders as Churchill, Napoleon and Hitler. “Brothers,” he repeated. “I have come from Morovia to pledge our solidarity with your cause, the eternal struggle for your freedom.”

An audible sigh ran through the crowd. They weren’t too sure what he was talking about, but he was very impressive. They opened their ears and gave him their full attention. He stood at the front of the room, mounted a hay bale, and raising his arms theatrically, he addressed them.

“Brothers, I have come to lead you against your oppressors, to open new vistas of life, to stand behind, er, in front of you as you face those who would continue to rule you. They grind your faces in the mud …”

The peasants looked puzzled, they couldn’t remember that happening, and who were the oppressors anyway?

“They yoke your very souls in bondage, they defile your very existence. But we will show them that they cannot keep you in slavery forever. We will rise up and defeat them where they stand, sitting in their ivory towers, oblivious to the sufferings of the common man. The common man upon whose shoulders, upon whose backs and through whose labours rest the whole economy of their tottering regime.”

What words! What impressive sentences! What rhetoric! What the bloody hell did it all mean?

Want to find out what happened? Why not buy the book?


Publication date Thursday 14th April


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