Transmission: 30 May 1996
Cable 7 - Live
Are we sitting comfortably, boys and girls? Then I shall begin.
Once upon a time, long ago, the Kingdom was stricken by alopecia
and those few remaining with hair were revered as Gods.
Rapunzel, the King's only daughter, not only had a full head
of hair but had hair that hung down her back. However, after liberal applications
of Immac her back was silky smooth and her golden locks tumbled from her head,
unfettered, like wheat in the wind.
Whilst it was nice to be venerated as one of the few people in
the Kingdom to have natural hair there was the added problem of being victimised
by those who needed one of the cheap wigs on sale in the market to attain
the full Elton John effect.
Such was the animosity of the vociferous few towards his daughter
that the King was forced to provide her with safe housing within the grounds
of the Palace.
It was fortunate that the King was wealthy enough to so provide
for his daughter as the local council was very reluctant to make her a special
case. Perhaps if she had been a one legged, black, single parent lesbian they
may have been more sympathetic.
And so it was that the King called in the best builders in the
land and work on a suitable property was started immediately. After what seemed
like a short time, but which was in actual fact several months, the Princess's
new home was complete and the Barrett brothers got their first, last and only
bonus for early completion.
However, the house was not as safe as the King had been led to
believe and, after just a week, the security of the house had been compromised
by extremists and he was forced to recall the builders to reassess the Princess'
needs.
To save starting afresh with a new house the builders suggested
putting an additional floor on top of the existing building and locking the
ground floor up. This was duly done; but still the activists gained entry.
Whilst the Princess was very willing to have her defences penetrated,
the King was not. Understandable, really. It's a father thing.
In desperation the King decreed that the ground floor be sealed
and entry be via a ladder to the first floor.
This was fine until the zealots used a similar ladder one night
to breach the defences. The King furiously ordered the first floor sealed
as well. The Princess complained that she didn't have enough rooms to live
in so the King ordered further stories to be added to the top of the building.
Week by week the lower levels were assaulted, week by week the
assaulted levels were sealed and week by week new levels were added to the
top until the Princess was marooned at the top of a tower so high she could
overlook the entire kingdom. But at last she was safe from the marauding
bigots below.
Whilst her safety was now assured she now had new pressing problems.
As a Princess, tradition decreed that she marry and procreate by the time
she was 21 and time was marching on.
Although she was a modern Princess and didn't feel she had to
bow to public pressure to marry out of duty, she rather fancied the procreation
side of tradition. But, how to procreate when the nearest man was at least
300 feet below her?
Her live-in maids had regaled her with tales of modern science,
test tubes and the fact that you could get by without a man but she really
couldn't see herself getting intimate with something that had Pyrex etched
into its side and didn't include batteries. Panasonic was OK but glass was
a bit impersonal.
She told her father to find her a husband but, as she had to
shout from the top of the tower, all the neighbours heard it and very soon
word spread that the Princess was open to gentlemen callers.
Never was the front drive of the Palace so busy. Carriages arrived
hourly from far and wide. The King had to take on a Social Secretary to cope
with the demand for an attempt on the North Face of the Tower.
As with all fathers, no young swain was going to be good enough
for the King's daughter. Having her locked in a 300 foot tower gave him the
perfect excuse to weed out most suitors before they even got within hailing
distance of his precious Princess.
However, after careful vetting by the King a select few were
allowed to make an attempt at gaining entry to the Princess's boudoir. These
few were only allowed to try because the Princess's nagging, akin to an on-heat
alleycat, was becoming intolerable to the King.
To safeguard his daughter's honour the King chose those that,
physically, were not likely to be able to conquer the Tower. That way the
Princess could not accuse him of being unco-operative while he was assured
of her continuing isolation.
What the King did not take account of was that the wimps he chose
to assault the impregnable tower had, due to Nature's lot, a surfeit of brains
to balance the deficit of brawn.
The first attempt on the Tower by an anorak clad anaemic looked
set for success right from the start. Armed with sheaves of paper covered
in calculations, the spotty youth proceeded to build a complicated catapult
arrangement some hundred yards from the base of the Tower. After several days
the contraption was, he announced, ready to propel him through the air and
into the Princess's arms.
The King was dubious but, as he had given his permission for
the attempt and had, therefore, given tacit approval for a marriage if successful,
gave his congratulatory speech. The first of many.
"It is with great honour that we, the peoples of the Kingdom,
gather today to wish you every success in your attempt to rescue the Princess
from her isolation, take her hand in marriage and, ultimately, provide an
heir for the throne."
Strapping himself into the catapult, resplendent in his new anorak,
the suitor pulled the lever, shot into the air in the direction of the Tower,
overshot the top floor and was never seen again.
Presenting the sheaf of paper computations and plans to his learned
men afterwards, the King was unsurprised to hear that a stray decimal point
in the trajectory calculations was awry.
After many disastrous attempts on the edifice of the Princess's
honour the final contender arrived at the foot of the Tower. By this time
the Princess had grown bored with the expectation generated by all these attempts
and was ready and willing to help in any way she could, just so that she could
finally get her man, any man, and settle down to procreation. And anyway,
she'd run out of batteries.
And so it was that when she was asked to throw down her hair,
she did so without a moment's hesitation. Perhaps if she had thought before
doing so there would have been a different ending to our tale.
As it was, she unwound her hair and tossed her tresses out of
her bedroom window and watched as they tumbled to the ground and landed at
the feet of her latest, and spottiest, beau. 300 feet of golden hair shimmered
in the sunlight as the beau grasped handfuls and hauled himself up to first
one floor and then another.
As each floor was reached the Princess could feel the tension
on her scalp. And such was her relief that her ordeal was almost over that
it wasn't until the poor boy was almost halfway up that she suddenly realised
the consequences of his putting his weight on her hair; and in public.
She was just about to scream at him to go back when the unthinkable
happened. The cheap glue which held the hair to her head parted company with
her scalp and the wig, for that was what it was, fell to the ground killing
the swain and 20 onlookers.
The King was mortified and in a fit of temper ordered the tower
permanently sealed and the Princess left to her doom.
It was never known whether she starved to death or simply gave
up the will to live after having been exposed as no better than the other
slapheads in the Kingdom
©
Pariss 1996
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