WARNING: Exam Revision May Seriously Impair Your Grip On Reality!

One Way Round – England, Near London, May 2006

Wat liked the game on the Playstation 2.

It involved Hitting Things, and instead of the Things hitting you back like they did in real life, you got Points for hitting these Things, and lots of satisfying 'Oomph!' noises. He grinned.

'This is excellent! Can we have one to take back with us?'

'That depends,' I said from my position on the sofa, a few metres away, 'have you any electricity?'

Chaucer squinted at me from the other sofa-cushion: 'What?'

'Yes?'

'No, not you, you ginger clot! Never mind - if we haven't heard of it, we haven't got it. How did we get here anyway?'

'Witchcraft,' I grinned at him.

'You've bewitched me?' Wat paused the game and looked round, shocked.

'Oh, pick an explanation, I can't be bothered with them! You're having a dream, or I am, or you're imagining it, or something. What is this, one of those godawful stories where people spend fifteen chapters spouting tosh about a talking bird and mysterious dreams and then finding some mystic portal into…' I sighed in exasperation and gave up.

'Couldn't be bothered with them myself,' Chaucer smiled.

'No. That's why your masterpiece basically begins '…And then I went down the pub and met these blokes…'. Speaking of which, you're supposed to be helping me study. I bring you back here for some assistance because I've got an A-Level exam on 'The Canterbury Tales' in three days time, and first Wat insists on eating all my revision-break snacks, and now we're discussing Tekken 3!'

'Right!' Chaucer said, instantly play-acting at being studious and thumbing furiously through 'The Merchant's Tale', 'May I ask what you're studying to be? A teacher? A priest? Seeing as this is a world where you entertain yourselves by making tiny men in boxes fight each other…'

'…I did explain about the Playstation…'

'…it's probably a world advanced enough to let women have careers'

'What am I training to be? Umm…an English-reading…person?'

He stared at me, 'But…you can already read English'

'Yes, but they…' I stopped. 'Look, they just teach you how to read it better, alright?' realising that it actually did sound lamer than a one-legged horse.

'This system's insane…' Chaucer muttered, 'Next you'll be telling me people can fly'

With abysmal timing, a small passenger jet, en route to Gatwick, chugged across the horizon.

Sensing Wat might be about to have a fit, I flung him two packets of Smarties. I leant back, accidentally pressing the CD remote control.

Suddenly, a hideous wailing filled the air, accompanied by what sounded like the Philharmonic Orchestra falling off a cliff and into a scrapyard, maybe yanking some livestock along with them. Wat screamed and fell to his knees. Even Chaucer, naturally a six-foot slouch, jumped about a foot in the air and looked wildly about for the source of all this cacophony.

'Oh Lord! It's the apocalypse! The end is niiigh…!' Wat howled pitifully, clasping his hands together, 'Why's there never a priest around when you need one, if Judgement Day's upon us I'm hanged if I'm going to hell over two un-confessed jugs of mead!'

'It's not the apocalypse, is it?' Chaucer groaned at me, seemingly prepared to believe it.

'No, it's Cradle of Filth, although you could be forgiven for the mistake,' I finally grabbed the remote from down the back of the sofa cushion, and flicked it off, 'Whoops'

'How does that...thing...work?' Chaucer asked, examining the squat little machine that was responsible for the eardrum-bothering.

'Um. I don't know. You just put the disc in and have a special machine that reads the little invisible patterns on it'

'Yes, but how does it do that?'

'I...haven't the foggiest'

'Honestly. You're stuck in a world of magic and you don't even know how these enchantments work? And these tabs don't make sense. Look: this one reads 'skip', that one says 'play' – it sounds like bloody hopscotch, where's the 'clap' and 'jump' tabs? Oh do shut up, Wat! Look, ply him with some more of these little honey-beans…'

'Chocolate, Geoff'

Wat gruzzled at us, 'Shut up y'self, y'lanky git! I've just experienced serious trauma'

'The only trauma you ever went through was an empty plate And you can fong me for that when we get back,' he said, dismissing Wat's fists with a faintly camp wave of his hand, 'but I'm currently somewhat preoccupied, alright?'

'Geoff, this really is too much,' I said, examining The Merchants Tale with a faint smile on my face, 'This is filth. This is medieval pornography'

'How dare you! How dare you reduce my art to a lewd woodcut!'

'Lewd woodcuts?' said Wat,' Where…oi, lemme see'

'I don't have any, you vegetable' Geoff said wearily.

'You've got characters fornicating up a pear tree!' I flapped the book at him, 'Where do you get your ideas?'

'The muse comes upon me,' he said shyly, clasping his hands together with exaggerated modesty, peeping up from under colourless eyelashes.

'Look, your royal coyness, it's a physical impossibility'

'Yes?'

'Yes'

'Prove it'

'I...well…' I goldfished for a while, thinking 'Come with me to the nearest orchard and bring a ladder!' is not an appropriate response, 'Well anyway, I'm not complaining, it's a lot more fun to do an exam on than the bloody Tempest'

'Oh Lord,' he groaned, eyes rolling upwards at the ceiling, 'why did you bring me into the world seven hundred years too early for all the really good reading material?'

'Cheer up, they owe it all to you,' I said perkily, clapping him on the shoulder, 'I bet everyone back home's still la-dee-dahing about in Latin, Dominus this and Meus that, and there you are…'

'…spouting shite…' Wat chimed in

'…fathering the writing of the English Language…wait, did I just use the word 'fathering'?'

'Eh?' Wats ears pricked up, going pink at the charming thought of a new angle on which to point and laugh mercilessly at the poet 'What did you do?'

'Fathered the millions and millions of English language books we read nowadays,' I said woefully, crusading on with the word, one hand clamped across my forehead with embarrassment.

'Cor!' Wat looked impressed.

'Master Falhurst, my dearest carrot, we were referring to the English language. And that is why we don't enter into a conversation half-way through it,' Chaucer said, faintly amused, without skipping a beat.

'Yeah, whatever,' Wat grinned, with a hint of a leer,' you're just bein' modest, y'dog ain'tcha?' he said, He had about as much chance of understanding Geoffrey's flowerbed of a speaking-way as a no-armed blind archer had of hitting a bulls-eye.

'ANYWAY, I think that's quite enough on that,' I said, before I dug myself any further into the pit of doom I was currently excavating, 'We're not getting anywhere with this revision. I think it's time for a tea-break'

'T?' Chaucer said, frowning.

'Tea' I said firmly, leading the way, wondering if I could maybe just save the environment and boil the kettle on my burning cheeks. Wat trailed behind, staring at everything new around the house in wonderment and furiously chomping Revels.

-

The kitchen proved interesting.

However, they couldn't quite grasp the concept of brand names. Wat flatly refused to try a pinchful of Frosties, on the grounds that anyone who'd taken the trouble to write their name all over the box was clearly quite territorial about their food.

'I'm not having Frostie come after me, finking I've stolen 'is dinner!' he cried, mortally affronted. He really did need to get his priorities sorted.

'I feel I'm wasting my time here a bit,' I said, as Wat got interested in the fruit bowl and Chaucer merely leant back against the wall, breathing it all in and feeling inspired, 'I mean, I could've shown you anything. Mobile phones, electricity, DVDs, Empire magazine…and so far all I've managed to do is fret Geoff with all the stories he never got to read and have you both shite yourselves over a CD player. Oh,' I said, as Wat began trembling uncontrollably, pupils massively dilated, '…and give Wat his first sugar high'

'What's 'appening!'

'I knew those M&Ms were a mistake…'I mused, staring at him thoughtfully, 'don't worry, it's perfectly normal. Your body's just not used to the stuff in the chocolate. Give it an hour, you'll be back to normal. It may make you a bit happy'

Chaucer grinned widely

'Oh, looks like that fonging'll have to wait then, you're shaking too hard to even hit anything. Don't s'pose I can I have some more of them to take back with me?'

'Wat, how do you feel about dentists?'

Wat crossed himself and turned pale.

'I think that might be a no,' I oohed, handing them mugs of tea.

'S'this?' Wat lifted one out of the fruit bowl.

'Banana?'

'Eh?' Wat stared at it, seemingly faintly amused, 'D'you eat them?'

I toyed with the idea of saying 'No Wat, I hang it round my neck,' but he'd only have gone and believed me, and that might've turned out a little cringeworthy.

'Only,' he sniggered, picking one up. Oh, 'ere we go, I thought with an inward groan, some people really need to grow up. I know exactly what's coming, too.

Wat twitched with sugar-addled giggles 'Well, it kind of looks a bit like a…'

'A…?' Geof said, arching an eyebrow. Wat grinned widely, and opened his mouth, laughing.

'A…!' and the poet neatly inserted said fruit into Wat's wide-open mouth.

'I hope, Master Falhurst,' he smirked, as Wat spat the offending banana out, 'you weren't about to say anything unfit for a lady's ears…?'.

'You…you! Her –she…fonging well…!' Wat spluttered, unable to locate a punchable target to take out his indignity on. In the end, he settled for hurling the banana at the wall, calling it a bastard, and then stamping it into the carpet. Apparently, this proved theraputic – he calmed down and went back to the Smarties after that.

'I don't really count as a Lady, you know,' I nodded to Chaucer quietly.

'I know. I just wanted to see the expression on his tomato-like face'

'Ah'

'Sirs,' I said suddenly, feeling i must return to my studies, 'this has been sod all use as a study aid, but at least it kept me sane. I had nothing better to do, after all. I don't know what to say by way of a farewell…'

'Au revoir, you mean. Don't think I don't want to see you come back to us and make an arse of yourself too. I'll show you all kinds of interesting things you couldn't possibly…know…about' he said, trailing off somewhat at the strange look on my face.

Even writers' words come out mangled sometimes.

'Socially, I mean! Lots of opportunities for you get it wrong and embarrass yourself, it'll be extremely amusing. You really must,' Chaucer said, sounding quite strangely sincere.

'Geoff, give this to William, he'll appreciate it next time he falls off his horse,' I said, handing him a large tube of Savlon, 'and Geoff, if you get inspired to write something in an ink-free place or a moving vehicle or something, keep some parchment to hand and use these, they're easier than quills,' I said, kissing him on the cheek and handing him ten biros (God, I'm pathetic. Crunch time, and the best gift the modern world can offer the greatest writer of the age are some half-used Bics. I feel like a really rubbish version of Lady Galadriel)

'Ere, what about me?'

(Except Lady Galadriel wasn't stupid enough to leave out half the Fellowship)

'Keep the banana, Wat, I don't want it after you've dribbled on it. Oh go on then, take the marshmallows, I don't know why they're in the fruitbowl'

Chaucer, however, was staring at the gift with a look of amazement, testing it out on the back of his hand.

'Holy Mary. It's a quill with ink already in it…' he said breathlessly, 'and it writes upside down…'

'Yes!' I said, trying to summon up the same enthusiasm, 'It's really quite…exciting…or not…' I trailed off. Ah well, at least he was happy. Faint embarrassment was probably worth it to see the warm smi…arrogant smirk on his face.

'Farewell then. Please come and make an arse of yourself soon'

'I will, Geoff. And tell you how the exam goes'

'God be wi'ye'

'We've shortened it to 'goodbye', but thanks all the same!'

'Farewell!' they said affectionately.

'Bugger off!' I said, equally affectionately, waving.

Right. Now to tackle Queen Elizabeth 1st for the History Module and I'm fucked if it'll be by the same method!

-

Review, please, it keeps me happy…sane…alive.

I know it's all nonsense, wishful thinking and worse, but hopefully such bosh is as fun to read, as it is to write. One sequel chapter is planned.