And so it was that the knights of the Order of the Canon were victorious in the battle against the Wrigley’s of Wigan and the Noobs of Newcastle. They had thwarted the plan of the now annihilated sorcerer Ferguman to kick them out of the race for the Chalice Louise.
Now King Pete was about to abdicate the throne as he was old and without teeth…
(Lying on his royal canonry bed, he calls the Duke and Knights to his bedside…)
King Pete: Since I am old and cannot eat pies from the 12 Pins pub anymore as I am without teeth, I fear I may have to abdicate the throne to one much younger, fitter and wiser.
Duke Wenger: What is this? You mean you can eat nothing now but Madame Charmaine’s soufflé?
Lord Santos: Oh dear…this means I have –th some extra helpings of pork *sigh*
Lord Giroud: Oh shatap fatso! All you think about is grub. Small wonder Gremio didn’t keep you, the poor club’s trying to cut its food bill.
Duke Wenger: Enough of this! Ahem… Your Highness, to who would you abdicates the throne?
King Pete: Err… I have chosen the nobleman Chips Keswick to taketh my place.
All the knights: Huh?
Lord Santi: Artets, como el pescado y patatas fritas? (Like chips in fish and chips?)
Lord Artets: Si, como patatas Kettles y Pringles. (Yes, like Kettle crisps and Pringles)
Lord Mert whispers to Lord Wilshere: But, I thought Chips was old and had no teeth?
Lord Wilshere: Sssh…, he has dentures and goes for Botox twice a week.
Lord Mert looking somewhat confused: Oh…
The Greatest Striker that ever lived roars with laughter, he’s on the floor laughing his pants off. To save my fingers the pain of typing the spoilt brat’s name we’ll address him as TGSTEL= the greatest striker that ever lived…according to his valuations.
TGSTEL: So we’ll call him King Chips? Or crisps? Or potatoes crispiness Chips? Lool! Hahahahahaha! Oh dear! I think I’m going to piss in me pants! Lol!
Duke Wenger: Look here Dutch boy! Better behave yourself or else I’ll sell you to the German 3rd division and gladly take beer in exchange.
TGSTEL: Geez, no need to get all harsh on me boss.
And so it was, King Pete handed over the throne of the Kingdom Arsenalia to Chips Keswick.
All of Arsenalia: All hail King Chips! All hail his crispiness!
Whispers going through the crowd…
Baron of 1 nil down 2 one up: But where’s King Pete, he’s supposed to be at the coronation; some say he’s dead.
Baron Funny Gooner: No, I hear he’s in Barbados chilling with some Jordie chics.
Baron of 1 nil down 2 one up: oh, I see… lucky bastard.
But, in a land far, far away, evil brewed…
The eye poker, the joker who was wont to give himself a new name in the year of the rat, believed it was time to travel back to Britannia; sorcerer Ferguman was out of the way so it only felt right to raise hell in that little island country off the coast of the continent of Europia. He packed his bags and sailed to Britannia.
Upon his arrival, he saw that the terrain was the same but the foes were new, all except one, the warrior Prince from France. He refused to call him Duke, he did not deserve it; what had he achieved? But he, the eye poker had conquered four countries and their principalities, he had laid waste armies of great might and ground kingdoms to the dust, it was he who deserved royalty, no one else.
He wore a hood so that no one could see his face. He soon reached the gates of the Tsar in the dead of the night; the guards were expecting him. As he entered the familiar gates, he smiled. He would raise hell once again on this island country and not even the Prince from France could stop him, not all the armies in Britannia put together; he was, the Special One.
Want to follow the Cannon Chronicle series? Click here