Tag: Picts

Roller Derby Apocalypse (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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39 Romance novel cover parodies ideas | romance novel covers, romance, book humor

Introducing Chapter CDXIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular confides in her readers, “Dear readers, I must confide in you! I approach this chapter with something closely akin to dread, fearful of what I might set loose upon the world.” We do not know what she’s talking about.

Here in Scurveyshire, the roller derby rink is just about ready for the Ulan Bator Lake Smelts to take on the Plaguesby Whatevers. This is part of the diabolical plot hatched by Tom the Pict. We join him as he confides in his pet snail, Rupert.

“Hah, my slimy little friend! Nyah-ha-ha! If our diabolical plot succeeds, we will drive all the English out of England, and the Scots out of Scotland, and the whole isle of Britain shall belong to the Picts!”

Rupert makes a gesture with his antennae that translates to, “But there aren’t enough Picts left to fill up a good-sized phone booth. You don’t even know any other Picts.” This observation moves Tom to a fit of sobbing.

Meanwhile, Johnno the Merry Minstrel has heard some disturbing things about Ulan Bator’s premier women’s roller derby team–

Time out! Urgent interjection by the author!

“Oh, my stars! Some addled ass from Iowa has written to ‘inform’ me–inform me!–that there was no such place as Ulan Bator in the Victorian Era. And you know the stupid letter had to fall under the gaze of Mr. Pitfall!” Ms. Crepuscular sighs. “What a tantrum ensued! The poor man just can’t stand to be reminded that Ulan Bator used to be called something else. He goes to pieces if you tell him that! And this time he did it right in the middle of my living room. Oh, fap!”

We leave her to pick up the pieces. The chapter will have to be finished some other time. Mr. Pitfall can regenerate himself if all the pieces can be found.

Roller Derby Comes to Scurveyshire! (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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The Victorian Era-Skating Ice and Roller-Victorian Days - angelpig.net

Victorian roller derby

As every reader with nothing better to do will surely remember, Violet Crepuscular has left her readers wondering whether there are Picts hiding out in Scurveyshire and planning to use the ancient Pictish sport of roller derby to expel all the English out of England.

Introducing Chapter CDXI of her immortal epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Ms. Crepuscular addresses her readers thus: “Dear readers, I hope you don’t mind if I address you thus. It has become necessary for me to introduce a new character into the story: the plot cannot be carried forward without it. Without further ado, meet… Tom the Pict!”

Yes, alas, there is a Pict lurking among the gibbering masses of Scurveyshire. “You may wonder,” adds Violet, “what one measly Pict–” not a figure of speech: he really does have measles–“can do to evict the English from England. Please continue reading!”

Tom’s idea is to strike while everyone is attending the roller derby match between Plaguesby and Ulan Bator. Please don’t bother to write to Ms. Crepuscular to point out to her that Ulan Bator was certainly not called “Ulan Bator” during the Victorian Era. Her neighbor, Mr. Pitfall, flies into a rage whenever this topic is brought up.

Tom the Pict, the story continues, has successfully disguised himself as a normal person, and the measles deter anyone from getting too close. He only speaks Pictish when he talks to himself or to his pet snail, Rupert.

And everyone, but everyone, is going to be at that roller derby rink!

A Completely Unnecessary Flashback (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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Oy Rodney – Lee Duigon

Introducing Chapter CDX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular writes, “Dear reader, in order to fully understand Chapter CDX of my epic romance, Oy, Rodney, it is necessary for us to go back in time some fifteen hundred years. This is what we writers call a flashback. Because we’re flashing back.”

What she’s leading up to is a discourse on the Picts, “the original inhabitants of Britain, who came to this happy isle, this seat of kings, from the Solomon Islands. To this day,” she babbles, “the trained ear can detect no difference between Pictish and Solomon Islandese. They also play several of the same board games.”

What does this have to do with anything? Oh, come now–you don’t think Ms. Crepuscular would ever leave us stranded in a non sequitur, do you?

She does point out that the Picts were responsible for people in ancient Britain getting rid of their trousers and wearing kilts instead. “It is because the Picts were invertebrate thieves,” she writes. I am not sure about that word “invertebrate.” Something’s wrong with it. “Many a Roman, reaching into his pocket for a denarius, to his dismay found all his pockets empty. This happened to so many people that they started referring to their empty pockets as ‘Pict Pockets.’ Later this referred to picked pockets of Pictish populations isolated in northern Britain and West Virginia.”

You learn something new every day.

“Getting to my point,” Violet promises, “as every schoolgirl knows, roller derby was the national pastime of the Picts and their gift to the world at large. And roller derby is coming to Scurveyshire! And what, dear reader, would happen if there were picked Picts secretly hiding out on Scurveyshire, waiting for the opportunity to cast all the foreigners out of Britain? And using roller derby to do it!”

But we will have to wait for another chapter to learn the answer to that question.