Tag Archives: battle

January 6th

On this day in 1066 Harold Godwinson became the king of England after the death the day before of Edward the Confessor.

Godwinson being all "I'm the king now"

Now, the whole thing about who got to be king after Edward the Confessor was a bit of a nightmare. Edward had no children of his own and hadn’t got round to saying for sure who he wanted to be king after him before he got sick, fell into a coma and died. There were three men who were up for the job. Godwinson, Harold Hardraada and William Duke of Normandy. None of them had what could be called cast iron rights to the throne, but that didn’t stop them all getting a bit fighty about the whole thing. Harold Hardraada’s claim was that when Harthacnut (son of the often misspelled Cnut the Great) was alive him and Magnus, who went on to be King of Denmarkhad made a pact that if one of them died then the other could become king of their country. But as Magnus was king of Denmark he didn’t bother going after England when Harthacnut died and let Edward the Confessor have it. In

"Oh bugger, that cad Godwinson is about to kill me!"

short, Harold Hardraada had no real claim to the throne, but Harold Godwinson’s brother Tostig said “Go for it mate, me and all the noblemen in Britain will be right behind you!” This was a bit of an exaggeration, but Hardraada went for it. He went over to the North of England in September of 1066 and had a big fight with the other Harold and his army . The big fight happened at Stamford Bridge – luckily Chelsea were not playing at home that day, because then the fight would have to have taken place somewhere else – and Godwinson won. So, for the time being Godwinson remained king.

What was Godwinson’s claim to the throne? Well there was minor family connection, but ultimately, him and his mates reckoned that just before he died, Edward the Confessor came out of his coma and said “yeah, be the king for me, Harold Godwinson, not Hardraada or William of Normandy… ach, urgh…[silence]” before dying. When William heard about this over in Normandy he thought it was all a bit chinny, chinny,

William "I'm the king now!" the Conqueror

reck-on. That said, although he too had a tiny bit of a family connection, his claim to the throne was based on the fact that back in 1051 Edward had told him he wanted William to be the King of England when he died and that Harold G had agreed that he should be in 1062. It seems an awful lot of people were claiming things that had been said when no one else was around, but then that was what it was like in ye olden times with no digital recorders or mobile phones or computers and stuff like that. They couldn’t even write quickly, so by the time some monk had got round to copying down what Edward the Confessor had said it would probably be the next year and he’d have taken so long drawing nice pictures around the first capital letter that he’d have forgotten half of it and had to make the rest up as he went along.

Any road up. As we all know, after betting the other Harold, the still living Harold had to get his arse down to Hastings or Battle – which was so named because it was a good place for a bit of a barny – and have another fight with William. He wasn’t so lucky this time and ended up deaded. Some say it was with an arrow through the eye, but in fact he had the shit kicked out of him by William and three of his mates. The cartoon that they drew of it all after, like the writing by the monks, took a long time to put together and a lot of it was made up.

Since this date, The English have been afeared of having a king named Harold in case the same sort of thing happens to him, so the name has been banned by the Royal Family, along with the names, Jason, Vincent, Kevin and Nigel.

Today is the brithday of a so-called actress who is generally known as Trudy Styler, Mrs Sting, or as I like to call her, in reference to her stupid face, a jug-eared, monkey-faced cunt*.

She met Sting while she was appearing in Macbeth with a drunk Peter O’Toole and her friend and Sting’s then wife Frances Tomelty. She stole her husband and then started having lots of babies by him, spending his money, pretending to give a shit about the planet and ill-treating her staff.

Jug-eared, Monkey=faced Cunt

Her and Sting like to go on about how much sex they have and how good at it they are. Listening to this is a good way of making yourself sick if you have accidentally swallowed poison. Sting claims that he is a master of Tantric sex and so he can do it for hours without coming. What he fails to admit is that if he’s doing it with a normally attractive woman he comes in about 5 seconds and it’s only because Styler has a face like a jug-eared monkey-cunt that he cannot come and so he pretends to be all tantric and shit.

Anyway, she is an unpleasant piece of nothing who is only famous because she nicked her mate’s husband and gave birth to his progeny. As well as being a shit human being, she is also a shit actress. She is also a shithead of a producer type thing as can be evidenced by her love of mockney Guy Ritchie. Today she is probably dressed like a clueless bint and eating baby mice while drinking champagne while imagining that she’s good at sex because her so-called tantric husband takes hours to come.

Should I wish her a happy birthday? Ha! I think not.

*Please note that I am a great lover of monkeys and would hate to insult them in any way by claiming that they look like this she-devil.  Given that I have done that, can I please apologise and make it clear that when I call her a monkey-faced cunt, I am referring to a very rare monkey so ugly that even its mother would not be able to love it. Thank you.



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May 28th

On this day in 585b.c there was a big solar eclipse that had been predicted by this philosopher and mathematics type guy named Thales. It took place during a big battle between the king of Lydia whose name was probably Alyattes II (all those classical scholars don’t really know, can’t agree and so probably came up with something that looked a bit old-fashioned and foreign to make it look like they know what they’re talking about) and the king of Media or Medes who was called Cyaxares or Hvakhshathra or perhaps even Phil.

Oh no, it's got dark! Mum, I've shat myself!

Thankfully, for all the difficulty with the names of the people involved, the battle itself was simply named The battle of the Eclipse. Well, that or the Battle of Halys, which was the name of the river where they were having their almighty ruck. At this point the protagonists had been at war for over five years. They were fighting about the usual sort of stuff, “you looked at my wine sac funny”, “you don’t give me ’nuff respec'” and “how dare you presume to have a bigger penis than me you cad!” Ultimately, these are the reasons for every war ever. Well, that and “my gods are better than yours” and the odd moustache-off that’s happened over the millennia. So there they were on this day, clashing swords and shields and giving it really rather large when “KA-BOOM!” there’s a solar eclipse.

Even though Thales had predicted this – using maths not magic, Thales was really not down with the whole magic and mythology thing – and it wasn’t really a surprise as such, most of the two armies shat their pants when day became night and the stench was unbearable. As a result, the two kings, Phil and Aly decided that they should stop fighting and declare a truce. This was met with much rejoicing as the soldiers pants were beginning to chafe and they all fancied going  home for a nice shower, a bit of how’s your father and  chance to catch up on I’m a Trojan Warrior Get Me Out of Here! and Greek Idol. A few details were tidied

Thales with his "yeah, whatevs, I told you so" face

up: the river Halys became the border between the warring factions and Aly’s daughter was married to Phil’s son and it was all done and dusted.

Now, you may be wondering why we’ve wandered back so far into the days of yore. Well, my friends, this is the earliest event in history that can be dated with such precision and accuracy. As a result it’s a sort of year zero of history and something that other events can be dated from and stuff like that. It’s a pretty important event, even though it’s peopled with a bunch of characters whose names are subject to argument, who mistook a solar event that had been predicted as an act of the gods telling them to stop being arses and who shat themselves in fear. History’s great like that. Everyone’s expecting derring-do and feats of great heroism and while that’s sometimes that’s what you get, other times it’s cowardly poo-pants and made up names.


Today is and was the birthday of the Dionne quintuplets, five girls who were born in 1934 in Canada. They are the first recorded quintuplets to survive infancy and their life was more than a little rum.

The girls as toddlers

First things first, they should have been sextuplets, but it is understood that their mother, Elzire, miscarried one of the foetuses in the third month of her pregnancy. The girls, Yvonne, Annette, Cécile, Émilie and Marie, were born two months premature and not expected to survive, but of course they did. News of their birth spread quickly after their mother enquired how much it would cost to announce the birth of five babies in the local newspaper. They captured the imaginations of people throughout North America and gifts and letters flooded in to congratulate and help the family. However, within four months the girls had been taken away from their parents under a guardianship act by the government of Ontario. Their parents were found to be unfit parents for quintuplets (but not for their other children) and the girls were taken into the custody of the doctor who had been present at their birth as well as hired nurses, maids and housekeepers.

The guardianship was supposed to last for two years, but for the next nine years. They also became a tourist attraction, bigger even than the Niagara Falls and lived their lives under the view of upwards of 6,000 people a day who would watch them playing from a viewing gallery. The girls did not see them (two-way mirrors), but they heard them. Until released back into the custody of their parents in 1943,

Life as a freak show

they had no real experience of the outside world. In effect they were circus freaks in the employ of the Ontarian government.

Once back with their parents, moneys that the girls had earned were put into building a large house for the Dionne family, but the girls were not told this and were made to feel bad about all the trouble they had brought upon the family. Their lives weren’t exactly a thing of joy for them. At the age of 18 all the girls moved out of the family home never to return again.

It’s crazy to think that this happened so recently, but then again, one only has to look at the “Octo-mum” to know that times haven’t changed that much. Three of the girls are now dead, but Annette and Cécile are still living. Happy birthday to you, ladies. I hope that age and distance from that dreadful time has brought more peace, joy and love to your lives.

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