Little Red Riding Hood
Little Red Riding Hood was going to visit her gran in the little cottage in the wood. They hadn’t heard from gran recently and Little Red Riding Hood’s mum had sent her off with some Ginster’s pasties and a bottle of Buckfast in a
neat little folding basket she had bought in Lidl.
As she skipped through the wood she passed the old cottage, wrecked and derelict now after the accident when a batch of crystal meth her brother Kev was cooking exploded. She ignored the lewd comments from the boys who were plonking school, but she hadn’t noticed the Big Bad Wolf lurking behind a tree. The wolf had spotted her before and knew where she was headed. Running ahead of the little girl the wolf got to the cottage first, quickly killed the old woman and ate her all up. He then dressed himself in her clothes, drew the curtains shut, turned off the lights and climbed into bed to await the girl’s arrival.
Little Red Riding Hood rang the doorbell and called to her gran. When she heard the wolf tell her to let herself in she had her doubts. That doesn’t sound like gran she thought, but knowing the old lady’s fondness for rollups she turned the handle and entered. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness she heard the wolf say, “Come up closer to the bed my dear and give your old granny a hug”.
“Aye right”, said the little girl. She pulled a Glock 9 millimetre she was holding for her brother from her basket (he was doing a stretch in Polmont YOI at the time) and put two bullets through the wolf’s head. The Big Bad Wolf fell backwards, dead as a rock before his head hit the pillow. After all, even in poor light a big bad wolf looks as much like your granny as Postman Pat looks like George Clooney
Cinderella was miserable. She was virtually a slave, looking after her wicked stepmother and her two half-sisters who, as the saying goes, were well struck in years and ill favoured of countenance. Her father had made an unwise second marriage after her mum had run off with the man who delivered the shopping from Waitrose. The two sisters were spoiled by their mother and got the best of everything. They had smart-phones whilst Cinderella only had an old-fashioned thing she was ashamed to be seen with. They had I-PODs whilst Cinderella only had an old CD Walkman she had found in a charity shop.
To make things worse, there was a ball on that weekend where the Prince, who was unmarried, would attend. It was well known that it would be frequented by young women Art History graduates hoping for a morganatic marriage. To make matters worse her two sisters would attend, a fact they lost no opportunity to rub in.
Cinderella sat down and wept. As she sat there, a funny looking guy with glasses and a quiff shimmered into her view and said, “Don’t cry my dear, I shall make sure you go to the Ball.”
“How can I go to the Ball looking like this?” wailed the girl, “I’ve nothing to wear, and anyway, who are you?”
“I am your fairy godfather. Trust me, and you shall go to the Ball.”
“Excuse me, but isn’t it usually Fairy Godmother”
“Listen honeybunch”, the Fairy Godfather said “ most girls would give their eye teeth to get a makeover from me”.
The fairy godfather waved his magic wand and in a trice they were transported to Harvey Nicks mopping up the designer labels on his platinum card.
With another wave of his wand they were back home and in no time at all the Fairy Godfather had Cinderella looking like a WAG on ketamine.
“But how will I get to the ball fairy godfather?”
“Don’t you worry my dear, I know a guy who owes me a favour. He drives a stretch limo and he can fit you in between dropping footballers off at Glasgow nightspots and picking them up again. The only problem is that you’ll have to be outside the palace by midnight.”
“No sweat”, said Cinderella, “I’ll be there.”
The ball was a great success and the Prince was all over Cinderella like white on rice.
When he was at the bar getting her a Bacardi Breezer she glanced at her Tissot and realised that it was five minutes to midnight. She legged it down the stairs just in time to get the limo. In her panic however, she lost one of her Fashionista’s, but what the hell, she thought, they hadn’t cost her anything. Soon she was back at the house.
Life for Cinderella returned to normal, a skivvy to her stepmother and the gruesome twosome.
The Prince was distraught and hired private detectives to find this young girl who had captured his heart.
Fortunately Cinderella had left her mobile phone on and they made a trace to where she lived.
The Prince turned up with the designer shoe and, well, you know how it goes from here. Regan and Goneril bust a gut trying on the shoe before Cinders slipped it on and the rest is history. And they all lived happily ever after?
Well, not quite. After a few years the Prince tired of his young wife’s endless wittering on about AIDS and landmines and entered into a liaison with an older woman he had known in a biblical sense before he married. Since the prince was a rich man, he was able to hire an army of lawyers with Max Clifford doing his PR. A divorce quickly followed
Soon Cinders was back home again sweeping out the fireplace and suffering the sarcasm of her step-family.
Moral: Believe me, even if the guy swears his undying love on a stack of bibles there is no substitute for a watertight pre-nuptial agreement.
Hansel and Gretel
Hansel and Gretel’s mum and dad were going through a rough patch. They had been at each other’s throats now for months. One evening they had a particularly bad row culminating in their mother shouting “ and you never even seem to notice your children any more.”
“We have children,” replied father looking over his glasses, a habit his wife always found intensely irritating, “How many?”
There was the sound of crockery smashing, followed by the screech of tyres on tarmac as father headed out.
The unhappy children, who had overheard this exchange, decided there was nothing left to do but to run away. They had an uncle and aunt who were always kind to them and they decided that was where they would go. Besides, they had a Sky HD package. They packed some sandwiches in a little satchel and headed out into the big wood that lay behind their house.
Just in case they were to become lost, Hansel took a bag of breadcrumbs that he scattered behind him reasoning that they could always use these to retrace their steps.
After about an hour the children became quite despondent and realised they were lost. They also discovered that when they tried to retrace their steps the breadcrumbs had all disappeared. Unfortunately for them the crumbs came from a gluten free loaf that belonged to their mother who, in addition to being highly strung was gluten intolerant and suffered from irritable bowel syndrome. At least that’s what the doctor told her to get her out of his surgery. Unknown to them a squirrel called Spike, who was coeliac, just happened along and, thinking that all his birthdays had arrived on the same day, quickly hoovered up the crumbs.
Just when they were about to give up hope they came across a cute little house made of gingerbread with sugar sticks for window frames. They knocked the door, which was quickly answered by a little old lady who smiled sweetly at the children and invited them in.
Hansel was about to enter but Gretel, who like most little sisters was a lot sharper than her brother, asked the old lady if she could see her disclosure certificate. When the old lady snarled and slammed the door in their face they turned away and started to trudge disconsolately into the wood which was getting darker by the minute
The children, frightened and exhausted, lay down under a tree and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
All the birds and animals of the woods saw the little children and were touched by their plight. They began gathering leaves to cover Hansel and Gretel to keep them warm.
Unfortunately and contrary to that stuff they tell in fairy tales, leaves don’t really have any great thermal insulation properties and by the time the Search and Rescue team found them they were suffering from hypothermia. The children had to be lifted out by helicopter to hospital where, thankfully, they made a full recovery.
Hansel and Gretel had to take an after school job stacking shelves at Tesco to pay for their rescue, since the service had been privatised by our Coalition Government and their parents weren’t insured.
Moral: Sorry kids, but parents just aren’t always that good at the job. It is just something that you have to deal with. Take a gap year. You’ll be amazed just how much your mum and dad will have matured by the time you get back. Just wait until it’s your turn.
Oh, and if you ever contemplate running away, take a map, compass and a whistle and maybe even a GPS as well as a good Goretex outer shell.