The UK Diaries III:Life is Feud-iful.

By Will Averill

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Hello, History buffs! Welcome back to the UK Diaries history series, now as regular as your grandfather. College is back in session, and professor Willie gonna learn you up UK stylee straight through the Middle of some damn Ages. When we left off, shit was tight in England, with the Vikings up 34-7 on the native Brits, 4th quarter, 2nd down near the 15 yard line. All of this meant nothing to the British, however, as Malcom Glazer had not yet arrived to bring them the joys of "The Real Football".

Britain in the early 11th century was mostly controlled by the Danes. Swein Forkbeard, Father of Cnute, and his son, Swein's Little Guy, had succeeded in adding England to Scandinavia's Huge Assed Empire (c). All this was passed to Hardacnute, who lost it. He had it before he left the house, but somewhere between the bar and that chick's house, he totally put it down somewhere--for just a second, and it was gone. It all went down like this--

A Hardacnute to Crack--

Hardacnute was the last Danish king of England, tragically he frittered his life away before choking to death in his long johns on an eclair, a glazed look in his eyes, in a someone ironic twist. One finds it hard to think of a cruller fate. Succession fell to his son, Edward the Confessor who, at the time, was known as Edward the No-Good-Lazy-Ass-Piece-of-Shit, but history has been kind. Edward solidified his claim to the throne by dispossessing his mother Emma of her wealth at Winchester. Edward was such a naughty bitch. Apart from that, Edward’s rock star moment was naming William of Normandy his successor and making Harold of Wessex regent of England. Then they wrote out their names in cocaine on Phillipa of Stoke-On-Trent’s prize poodle Dennis and got real high. They were rollicking good times. Good times.

The good times didn’t last, though, and after Edward died in a pool of soomebody else's vomit after the Detroit Ford Field show, Harold of Wessex claimed the crown, and with it, England. This made William of Normandy real mad, and so the two met in 1066 at Hastings.

Unfortunately, even with the help of Tim, Assistant Manager, Used CD’s, Harold was unable to secure England without a credit card and two forms of ID, and so gave up his life and country to the Normans. All of this is recorded in the Bayuex tapestry, available exclusively on ebay, so act now! The Bayuex Tapestry—like your Grandmothers curtains. Of. Rage!

“We are the Conquerors, my friends!” William the Conqueror pwnz u—

So Christmas 1066 rolls around and England is William the Conqueror’s bitch now. William’s occupation brought feudal law to England as opposed to the stern Ikea and Abba streamlined rule of its former Nordic masters. It wasn’t all checkerboard-stainless-steel-hash-bars-and-bob-cuts in London’s what I’m saying. Also, William brought bureaucracy to England in the form of the Domesday Book by Dan Brown, and it’s sequel Domesday Book and the Goblet of Fire, which was read overnight by the literate population of England, and boy was he tired the next day! The Domesday Book was a big list of all of England’s stuff, so that the Norman’s would know who to kill for it. Over 13,000 places were named, colorful local villages like Shitsville, Turdston, Crapsburg, Typhuswich, and Pudding Norton.

The Normans also brought castle building to England, which they boasted were “built to last 1,000 years”. Yeah, nice try, you Norman jackasses. Where’s your God now???

William also started another dynastic tradition, the sort-of ignoring Scotland and Wales, tradition. Scotland was considered best left untouched (Ye tooch me, ye geet a boot ein yer willay!), and try as hard as they might, they just couldn’t find Wales . Still confused, William the Conqueror died, leading too—

I cut ye, m’lord! The reign of Rufus (1087-1100)—

So William T.C. (as his posse knew him) bequeathed the crown to his favorite son William “I cut ye” Rufus, bequeathed the duchy of Normandy to his eldest son Robert, and to his youngest son Henry, bequeathed Jack Shit, a pleasant peasant pheasant plucker. William “I cut ye” Rufus was a huge, violent, gay, walking party-- like Richard Simmons with street cred. William was best known for taxing the living crap out of England, a trend that continues to this day. From the beginning William’s reign was fraught with betrayal. “My reign,” he’d cry, “it’s fucking fraught!” From Normandy, his brother Robert plotted to overthrow him, and from Scotland Malcolm McMalcommalcolm staggered as far south as Carslile tossing cabers all over the place before His Drunkeness passed out. So William went hunting in 1100, and got his silly big gay white ass killed.

Henry I: Ye Phantome Menace (1100-1135)

So sho’ nuff, Henry happens to be on the same hunting expedition where Rufus gets whacked, whistling and looking really, really innocent with those big doe eyes. He hauled ass to Winchester (where the elite meet to enjoy England’s treasury treat) just ahead of William of Bretuelli, whose sole contribution to history is to come in second in this race. Henry I was widely known as a competent and able administrator, which in this family means HE COULD SPELL HIS OWN NAME. He made himself popular by removing from office the Royal Exchequer Ranulf Flambard, a level three Tax Collector with a magic Ring of Counting and +2 Boots of Silence. His THAC0 was tight, yo. But Henry showed no mercy, cause sometimes life’s a bitch. Henry’s brother Robert tried to uprise, enlisting Ranulf and his magic boots, but that shit failed.

Henry followed up the work of his father, codifying laws and sending justices to different areas of the country to make sure these laws were carried out. This consolidation gave a unity to England which the still tribal Wales and Scotland lacked. None of this mattered to Death, who killeded Henry in 1135 to make way for—

Steve-0, the Lamest King Evar (1135-1154)

What Henry gained, Stephen of Blois blew. Stephen was Henry’s nephew, and gained early notoriety by running away from Antioch during the First Crusade, which he later justified as a really, really effective feigned retreat. In 1126, Stephen took an oath to accept the succession of Mailtda, Henry I’s daughter. After Henry’s death, Stephen was all like “PSYCHE!”, and took the crown. Matilda don’t play dat, and she allied with David McDaviddavid, son of Malcolm McMalcolmmalcolm of the Scots. David was raised by the Normans—Norman Rockwell and Norman Bates. From them, he learned sentimentality combined with bouts of psychotic rage and mindless violence which made him the quintessential Scotsman, and he was able to drive his armies as far as Yorkshire before he got too drunk and they all had to walk. Meanwhile, Matilda waltzed into Arundel with a rather large and peckish army, and civil war broke out like a spotty teenaged face before prom.

Just when it looked like prom would be ruined, along came a strong and powerful number two. Henry II, that is.

Oh, Henry II (1154-1189) Henry II was fucking awesome. Seriously. He’s my favorite Monarch of all time next to Prince Charles and Satchel Paige. I know that history is supposed to be impartial and all, but seriously, this frickin’ guy--I mean, what about this guy? First off, he was married to Eleanor of Aquataine, who divorced from Louis VII after she had an affair with her Uncle Raymond. What’s Uncle Raymond got in his cookie Jar?

Henry was known for his boundless energy, legalistic mind, keg stands, and shrewd decisions. When he took the crown, one of his first steps was to reduce the power of the barons, leading to the Rolling Baron Blackout of 1155. After that, he turned hi attention to the church, relying on his close ally Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury to carry out his religious policies. I, too, rely on Archbishop Theobald to carry out my religious policies. I mean, who wouldn’t?

The Crusades opened up new trade to England, and the invention of the wheeled plough awed peasants. Of course, so did fire and cheese. But that’s cause peasants are stupid. Henry wasn’t stupid, except when it came to Thomas Becket.

Henry had a childhood friend named Thomas Becket. He was moody, and Irish, and wrote strange plays. They did everything together—laugh, love, cuddle. They were best friends. Then Henry made Thomas (or Beccles, as he called him) Archbishop of Canterbury. And the love just went. Beccles became sullen, and quarrelsome—and kept asking if his ass looked big in these robes. He became unbearable, moping around the house in his pajamas while sipping vodka out of a Sprite can and beating the children. Henry couldn’t take it anymore, and in a fit of pique, muttered to four of his knights something innocuous like “I wish to fuck someone would fucking kill that fucking guy.” His knights took this literarly, and Becket was slain in his own cathedral—"Jesus’s Crib and Bingo Hall—Pancake Feed on Wednesday." But by striking him down, Becket became more powerful than you could possible imagine, and in Henry’s weakened position, he was forced to defend himself against rebellion from his own sons Fillipe, Tyrone, Carl Jr. and Richard the Lionhearted, egged on by Eleanor of Aquataine. He imprisoned Eleanor at Castle Rising in Norfolk (wives caged and tortured since 1118), and pissed off and hated, he died.

The Dread Lion Hearted Dick: Richard I (1189-1199)

Squandered his country’s wealth on foreign wars and left his nation’s economy devestated. Always on vacation. And he wasn’t even from Texas. Go figure.

It all goes down the John (1199-1216)

Although Richard’s reign saw things beginning to slacken, it was during John’s reign that Ye Olde Shit hit Ye Olde Fan. John attempted to regain his families land in Normandy, only to be pushed back across the channel, losing all of England’s claim to France with the exceptions of the Channel Islands, and both of the pelicans on them. Played by Alan Rickman, King John lost a humiliating defeat to Kevin Costner, and was forced to sign the Manga Carta, a Japanese comic with adult themes where a girl and a dragon spirit set great government up in the dance of 1,000 snowdrops. When the witch is beaten with kindness, parliament is formed, and Godzilla brings crops to the poor.

Ironically, the end of his reign and his ignomous burial at Worcester showed that England had become the center of the Plantagenet (and following) monarchies. They eye of Sauron would turn inwards—to Scotland and Wales, the conquest of which would bring ultimate power to the Universe and a thousand years of evil--but that’s another story for another time.

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Posted by davidryan (David Ryan) on August 23, 2005 at 5:02 p.m. (Suggest removal)

Holy cow these are my favorite things to read. Thanks, Will.

Hastings.

Priceless.

Posted by OtherJoel (anonymous) on August 23, 2005 at 5:15 p.m. (Suggest removal)

"Hardacnute was the last Danish king of England, tragically he frittered his life away before choking to death in his long johns on an eclair, a glazed look in his eyes, in a someone ironic twist. One finds it hard to think of a cruller fate. "

Very nice - I never knew history could be so tasty.

Posted by pissykitty (Melissa Lynch) on August 23, 2005 at 5:21 p.m. (Suggest removal)

Wow, what a riveting installation on the UK Diaries! I loved it, and it was so informative. Somehow, even if its not quite as described, the idea of Eleanor of Aquitaine knockin' da boots totally made my day. Thank you!

Posted by cfdxprt (anonymous) on August 23, 2005 at 6:15 p.m. (Suggest removal)

I am totally speechless and trying to catch my breath from laughing too much.

We need to get gramps more prunes to improve his regularity!

Posted by UKept (anonymous) on August 24, 2005 at 7:03 a.m. (Suggest removal)

Kitty--Eleanor of Aquataine totally liked to get her freak on. 1)Married to a French King, who she divorced to get nasty with 2) her uncle (who was really named Raymond...I do not make this up) and 3)dumped Dad's bro for Henry, who she made the moves on and seduced, even though she was much older than him. And she wasn't even a public schoolteacher!

Here's to you Eleanor of Aquataine, you fine Mrs. Robinson of yore.

Other Joel--try as I might, I could fit neither Boston Creme, nor cinammon bun in that sentence without things getting really nasty.

David--It come to me in a dream. Books, Music, Video, and the sunset of the Saxon empire.

Posted by copt_a_feel (anonymous) on August 24, 2005 at 9:15 a.m. (Suggest removal)

Hey Will -
Always nice to indulge in a little Averillean prose. What’s this I hear about you making a pilgrimage back to Larrytown? Britta and I will be back the weekend of Oct. 22nd for the annual Coptober fest. We need to get together if our schedules match up.

Kitty – Is that you? How the hell have you been? Shoot me an email; it would be great to hear from you! (nate@natecopt.com)

-Nate

Posted by quinn (Patrick Quinn) on August 24, 2005 at 11:07 a.m. (Suggest removal)

Britain's gain is America's loss. Imagine the great American history text this man has in him.

"The eye of Sauron turned inward..."

The UK Diaries III:Life is Feud-iful.

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