'Once upon a time, in merry old England, there lived a dashing young prince, who is loved by all. Though the Prince had no lack of suitors, he turned them all away, for his heart belongs to only one. Alas, the Duke of York, fair in countenance yet wicked like the devil, embittered after being spurned, had an evil design. One day, while the Prince had his guard down, Duke of York had her followers spirit him away, away to the highest tower at her castle, where all manners of foul creatures run about. Hearing of the Prince's fate, the heroic Prince of Wales gathered her band of heroes, to mount a rescue

.'

"All of us have mustered, as you ordered, milady, Prince of Wales."

"Verily, Dame Warspite, my heart leapt with joy at the sight of you and company. Tis' task at hand, I cannot do alone. My sister must be stopped, before she enthralls the prince."

'Casting their sight a the imposing keep of Castle York at the far distance, the heroes began murmuring among themselves. Even from where they stood, they could sense the rampant evil.'

"Surely a work of witchcraft, tis' loathsome air."

"There is no end to Duke of York's wickedness, and witchcraft is just one of its facets. Still, trouble yourself not, dame Centaur. With your bow and arrow and my sword, we shall prevail."

"Magic, ye say? I hardly can wait to test my own against it! I have toiled for years poring over tomes for nothing! The Duke is an embarrassment to everyone named York, and we shall bring an end to her schemes!"

"Well said, dame Renown, dame York; your words are most welcome."

'Marching forward, our heroes soon met their first obstacle, the gate to Duke of York's dark city, surrounded by seemingly insurmountable walls.'

"No enemy on sight...how peculiar..."

"Aye. It is like she is expecting us, milady."

"True. My sister had a score to settle with me, it seems. Keep your guards up. Now, how do we breach the gate, Warspite?"

"Fortunately, I am prepared. Bring out the battering ram!"

"Wa-wait! I didn't read anything about thiiiis!!!"

"Hush, Glowworm, you are ruining the atmosphere. It is in the script, you just didn't read closely!"

"Indeed, no choice but to ram! Position yourselves!"

'And with a mighty strike, the gate did went down, and our heroes pressed onward towards the lair of Duke of York, one of the devil's own, and her vile minions.'

As the stage was darkened to facilitate the change of scene, Belfast stepped away from the microphone. She was quite proud of her narration, a welcome distraction from her duty as a maid, and most likely others will feel the same, too. Welcome as it is though, she did wonder about one thing.

'Who wrote this sort of trite prose?'