A Nursery Crime.

By colin_williams

Mon, 13 Sep 2004

512 reads

A Nursery Crime.
By Colin Williams.

Old King Cole banged his gavel angrily and called for silence.
"So, Mr Owl. You have heard the charges brought against you. Do you have anything to say?"
The Owl glanced nervously around the packed court-room. He swallowed audibly. "I... I was not aware your Majesty that taking honey to the land where the bongo trees grow was an offence!"
"It is smuggling - pure and simple," replied the King.
"But it was for our own consumption!" hooted the Owl.
The King frowned. "Our? Do I take it that you were not alone?"
"Of course not, I was accompanied by the Pussycat."
The King pursed his lips. "Running away to sea with a cat? This sounds a bit strange to me!"
The Owl remained silent.
"I don't know!" snapped the King. "This land of ours is becoming a hotbed of crime. Yesterday I had a Welshman before me who confessed to going to someone's house and stealing a leg of beef. Then the rotter went back and stole a leg of lamb! Tomorrow, his victim will stand before me charged with beating the Welshman over the head with a marrow bone!"
The Owl blinked several times and stared down at the ground.
"Last week," continued the King, "Tom, the piper's son, stole a pig and legged it. Then there's the old woman who lives in a shoe; she would not be in such a mess if that cad Bobby Shafto had done the right thing by her instead of running away to sea!"
The King fell silent. The court waited expectantly.
"And another thing!" yelled the King. "I've heard disturbing reports about Hickety, pickety, the fine hen. It is alleged that she is laying eggs for gentlemen. Which in itself is not a crime, but now, gentlemen go there every day to see what the fine hen doth lay - and I think it's disgusting!"
The Owl fidgeted.
"Anyway, where was I?" frowned the King. "Oh, yes - the Owl. Call the two witnesses. Call, Jack and Jill."
A buzz of voices filled the air as all eyes turned to follow Jack and
Jill's progress into the dock.
"I believe you two had a clear view from the top of the hill on the
morning in question," stated the King.
"Jack glanced nervously at Jill. "Well... Sort of. It was a bit crowded up there that day."
Old King Cole frowned. "Crowded? How so?"
Jill spoke up. "The Grand Old Duke of York was there, your Majesty. Marching his men up and down the 'ill like there was no
tomorrer!"
"Mad as a hatter!" nodded the King. "He's got this theory you know. He reckons that if his men are exactly halfway up the hill they are neither up, nor down. I told him it depends on which way his troops are facing. If they face up the hill then it's obvious that they are halfway up. If they face down the hill - then they are halfway down!"
"What if they are looking to the right or left?" asked the Owl
smugly.
The withering scowl from the King made the Owl wish he had kept his beak firmly shut.
"You might think that you are a wise old bird," snapped the King. "But you aren't doing yourself any favours!" He turned to Jack and Jill. "So did you observe the Owl in his pea-green boat or not?"
Jack and Jill both shook their heads.
The King was clearly disappointed. "Before I dismiss you both, tell me; why do you continue to trek up and down that hill for a pail of water? Everybody knows that the well has been empty for years!"
Jill blushed. Jack grinned. The crowd smaned.
The King covered his embarrassment with a feigned bout of coughing which lasted until Jack and Jill had skipped their way out of the court-room.
"Who's the next witness?" the King asked gruffly.
Hector Protector, the court official consulted his notes.
"Er... Pipper Petter. Pepper Pitter. Peeper Pipper. Petter ... The
pepper per-per-pickler, your Majesty!"
"Call him then!" scowled the King.
Hector turned green. "Do I have to?" he moaned.
"Yes! It's what you get paid for!"
Hector took a deep breath. He hesitated, then grinned. "Call the next witness!" he screamed.
A pungent aroma filled the room as Peter Piper made his entrance.
"Will this take long?" asked Peter. "Only I have to pack a parcel of
perfectly proportioned pecks of pickled peppers for the 'Pumpkin and Pickle Purveyors of Peterborough' and my Pa will paddle me if the package is prevented from being posted post-haste. Papa gets panicky if the prescribed piquant preserves are not placed with the purchaser with priority."
The King's eyebrows danced madly. "Can't you talk normally?" he
gasped.
Peter looked puzzled. "Pardon? I presumed my presence here in this place was primarily to procure by probing, my proficiency to pronounce any proof that I perhaps witnessed in regards to the pilfering of the pickled pilchards from Polly's party when she turned her back to put the kettle on."
The King closed his eyes and uttered a most un-kinglike comment.
Hector leaned across to Peter and whispered. "You're in the wrong court-room!"
Peter giggled. "Perhaps the pepper pickle picker is in a peck of a
pickle himself!"
"Get out now while the King is busy bashing his gavel over his head," advised Hector.
Peter rushed away to a chorus of boos and hisses.
The King stared blankly at the mass of faces before him.
"I used to be a merry old soul!" he sighed. "And then they gave me this job! I'm dying for my pipe, but this is a no-smoking court. I've lost my bowl, and my fiddlers have all packed up and left. I cannot be seen to have a good fiddle any more, not in my
position! Ah, twee-tweedle-dee! It's nearly three. So let's get on with it!"
Hector hurriedly rifled through his notes. "The next witness is Little Miss Muffet, your Majesty."
"Well get her in here then!" cried the King.
Miss Muffet entered the court-room. The spectators gasped and pointed at her condition. Her face was muddy and her clothes were ripped and hanging in tatters.
"What the devil has happened to you?" gasped the King.
Miss Muffet sobbed. "I was just sitting down on a tuffet to eat my
curds and whey, when..."
"It wasn't that pesky spider again, was it?" interrupted the
King.
Miss Muffet shook her head. Tears flew from her face. "No, your
Majesty. In fact, Incy Wincy tried to protect me, but sadly ... sadly
... he got flattened!"
"Go on," coaxed Hector.
Miss Muffet glanced at Hector. She beckoned him to her and whispered in his ear. Hector looked shocked. He turned and faced the King. "Your Majesty, Little Miss Muffet sat down on her tuffet, her clothes all ripped and torn, because it wasn't a spider that sat down beside her - it was Little boy Blue - with his horn!"
The court-room erupted with gasps and cries of indignation.
"Right, that's it!" yelled the King. "I want that scallywag in front of
me this very day. Guards! Go out and search under all the haystacks until you find him. And while you're about it, if you see some old weirdo hanging about dressed all in leather; nab him as well!"
Several burly officers of the King's Guard got to their feet and made their way out of the court room.
"Wait!" yelled the King. "I want Georgie Porgie arrested as
well."
The room fell silent.
A timid female voice commented, "What? That sweet little pig? What can he be guilty of?"
Old King Cole banged his gavel angrily. "I have heard it said that
Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them
cry!"
"But that's only a bit of harmless fun!" yelled Jack Sprat.
"When the boys came out to play..." continued the King, "he kissed them too! He's funny that way!"
"Hang him!" screamed Jack Sprat.
"Order in court!" bellowed the King. "Now where were we? Ah, yes, Miss Muffet. Would you please tell the court what you saw?"
"Hairy legs, a golden horn and a lot of blood!" she replied.
The King smiled sweetly. "No, my dear. Did you see the Owl setting sail in his beautiful pea-green boat?"
Miss Muffet nodded silently.
"So what exactly did you observe?" urged the King.
"The Owl setting sail in his beautiful pea-green boat," replied Miss
Muffet.
The King rolled his eyes and muttered.
Hector stepped in. "Is that all you saw?" he asked.
Miss Muffet frowned. "Wait! I did see old Mother Hubbard."
The King looked puzzled. "Mother hubbard? Is she
involved?"
"I saw her go to her cupboard to get the poor postman a letter," cried Miss Muffet.
"And then?" coaxed the King.
"When she got there, the cupboard was bare! So they had it without one, and it was better!"
"Out!" screamed the King, his face as red as a beetroot. "Go on! I
won't have that nice Mother Hubbard talked of in such a manner!"
"But it's true!" protested Miss Muffet as she was ushered from the room by a smaning Hector.
The King buried his head in his hands. "I don't know!" he moaned in a muffled voice. "What is this land coming to?"
After a few moments he leaped to his feet. "Right! That's it! Owl, you are free to go. From this moment I declare an amnesty!"
The crowd gasped.
"If anyone has committed any crimes of late I urge you to come to this court tomorrow morning and I will hear your confessions. Don't worry, nobody will face any charges. Let's get this land of ours cleaned up! We will start afresh. I have heard that the media are coming here soon to do a documentary on us all. Who knows, perhaps we will become famous. So let's get sorted! We don't want children to read nasty things about us, do we?"
The following day Old king Cole gasped when he saw the long snaking queue of miscreants waiting for him to hear their confessions.
For eight long days the King listened with morbid fascination to all
sorts of crimes. He heard of fighting cats of Kilkenny. A black sheep flogging wool on the black market. A really nasty story about twenty-four black- birds cremated in a pie and he almost passed out when he heard of some character who smelled the blood of an Englishmen and threatened to grind up his bones to make his bread!
"Enough! Enough! I've heard enough," screamed the King. "I'm resigning! I can't take no more of this - I'm emigrating!"
Three reporters at the back of the courtroom scribbled down the latest scoop. Consulting each other they all agreed that they had enough material to write a whole volume of verses.
As the reporters rushed away, Old King Cole set sail with the Owl and the Pussycat to the land where the bongo-trees grow.
....He even supplied the honey.