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The Fairytale about the King who, with the help of his Wise Staff, ran a competition, to find a beautiful princess to sing songs to help soothe his son's (Prince Phestival) very swollen stage, and who was almost tricked by the evil step-mother of the princesses into picking her to mount his son's platform and sing to the king's loyal subjects, but who was fortunately saved from this awful fate by the poor quality of her illegal multiple submitted entries [oo err! Fnnr! Fnnr!]

or, for short,

The King, the Wise Staff, the Five Lucky Princesses, the Wicked Step-mother, Prince Phestival and his unusually Engorged Stage.

[Please note that the views expressed in this fairytale are NOT those of the management
of Revenge of the Lawn, who take no responsibility for the following fairytale]

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there lived an unusually large number of beautiful princesses, who all happened to have the same wicked step-mother, but all had very different fathers.

One day, the local king announced that there would be a music competition to try to find the beautiful princess with the most gorgeous voice, who would then be given access to Prince Phestival. Of course, there was great excitement as each princess was desparately in love with herself and felt that she herself should automatically be on Prince Phetival's "stage" [oo err! Fnnr! Fnnr!] And so they all practised their singing and instrumental skills to such a degree that they felt sure they would be mounting the Prince's large stage at the end of the contest.

However, their wicked step-mother also fancied a damn good rogering on top of the Prince's stage. She knew that , compared to the beautiful princesses, she was mutton dressed as lamb in musical terms and had the voice of a drunken bronchial sailor [she had once been a strapping bosun's mate on H.M.S. Gravel-Throated]. And so, the wicked step-mother devised a simple, visciously evil, but pitifully predictable plan: she would poison the princesses with poisoned apples.

But alas, given the approach of a competition, the difficulty of finding poisoned apples was one well-known and common problem that she had once again over-looked. Instead, she had to resort to a considerably less devious plan - especially when the magic mirror on the wall told her that she had a fine, exquiste voice. The wicked step-mother decided that, to have any chance of winning, she would have to submit multiple entries into the contest under various different names and wearing a different mask in each case, since it was strictly forbidden to sing more than once.

The day of the competition arrived, and everyone assembled in all their finery to perform their songs in front of the King's Wise Staff. The excitement was tangible, as each beautiful princess, and at least seven other rather rough-looking princesses, took to the stage in turn to deliver their songs. The wicked step-mother went up seven times with a different song and each time a different mask to disguise her evil deceit. Some of her songs were met with noises of approval by the nodding Wise Staff. It looked like her evil design was going to triumph!

Oh, who or what could stop her evil plan?

Was there no hero who could expose this malevolent trickery?

None of her masks fell off to reveal the dastardly crime.
No fairy god-mother used magic to uncover the deception.
No knight arrived to run the wicked god-mother through with his lance [oo err! Fnnr! Fnnr!].
Normal fairytale come-uppance laws failed to operate and it looked like the wicked god-mother's plan would work and she would be able to claim the Phestival's hand in marriage to much righteous boo-ing.

But the wicked-godmother had overlooked one thing - her entries were just not up to standard - her songs were crap. And so, the King's Wise Staff, relying on purity, honesty, and yet, no magic whatsoever, were able to see through the wicked god-mother's various musical caterwaulings, squeaks and grunts to rightfully award prizes to the top five beautiful princesses.

And so, the wicked god-mother became bitter and twisted and went grumbling off into the mists of West Wight, mumbling complaints about the poor quality of fairytale plotlines and climaxes these days etc ... while the King, the Wise Staff, Prince Phestival and the five lucky princesses lived happily ever after in a rather strange and increasingly disturbing menage-a-11.