Pope Clement VI
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|Charles III, Charles the Bland, that guy|
|King of England, Oprussor of Oireland|
|Charles III taking time out of his busy regal schedule, of doing nothing, to stare vacantly off into space. He is most likely pondering which buttock to scratch that afternoon.|
|Reign||1547 - 1554|
|Somewhere nondescript no doubt|
|Died||5 November 1554|
|A hotel toilet.|
|Predecessor||Henry the Heart-throb|
|Successor||Honkers the Talking Goose|
|Consort||Three; Paul the Honest, Henry the Loudmouth, Holes the Sockpuppet.|
|Issue||Where to start…|
|Father||Toss up between King Henry VI, Philip I of Spain, William the Adulterer, the speaker of the house, several presents, a jester and a particularly large pony.|
|Mother||Maria the Loose|
Normally one of these articles begins by listing the amazing achievements of the aforementioned monarch, like Henry V commanded the English army to victory in France. or James II could down 15 scotches in one sitting without throwing up all over the vestal robes. But, alas, while other leaders were putting their mark on history, Charles was standing in the corner, playing whatever the medieval version of Pac-man was.
The Unimpressive Years
Charles III was born in 1512, second son of King Henry VI and Queen Maria the Very Loose. The King was not present at Charles' birth, he was too busy invading most of continental Europe for the fifth time. In fact, had she been given the choice, even his mother would not have been present at the birth. She would have preferred to be out spending the king's money on countless pairs of shoes, or spending “quality time” with the gardener. His birth was met with nationwide shrugging of shoulders and quickly forgotten.
Charles early life can best be summed up as a disappointment, constantly overshadowed by his much more successful brother and in some cases his dead frog collection. He displayed no talent in leadership class, struggled through falconry, dropped out of diplomacy and failed dismally in pantaloon wearing class despite his drop-dead gorgeous legs. No, he may have not had regal skills or a curly moustache, but little Charlie displayed other spectacular talents that fitted a soon-to-be second in line position perfectly. He could pick his nose at a 9th grade level and boasted the finest pornographic tapestry collection in all the land.
Sadly, on the 19th of January, 1547, a tragic and shocking event occurred, one that would alter the course of history forever. Duke Nibbles, the Royal Hamster and Baron of Kent went missing. The official word was that Duke Nibbles had moved to the farm, but a cardboard box backing up the toilet told the true story.
Having been shafted from the crown by his older brother, Charles seemed set on living the hard and strenuous life of the second in line; constantly struggling to reach the grapes fed to him by hand, nearly drowning in seas of gold, forcing court staffers to perform demeaning acts for his entertainment - such a harsh and unrewarding life.
But then fate intervened again. His brother, the unbelievably attractive, tanned, oh so romantic, deep, poetry writing, blue eyed, super wealthy sigh anniversary and birthday remembering, listening, witty deeper sigh King unbelievably deep sigh Harry was struck down by an unknown STD after just 3 months of rule.
Charles was King... once he finished looking at his filthy tapestries.
The Forgettable Years
Charles was coronated in a hastily organized ceremony out the back of the local birth/marriage/divorce/second marriage/subsequent divorce/lonely death/coronation registrar. Adorned with a cheap tiara from the local souvenir shop, Charles delivered a gushing speech thanking everyone from his dead frog collection to the puppeteer that regularly visited his class, and even more regularly the boy's bedrooms. Such blatant flattery was lauded as either the sign of a calculating genius or a total retard. I'll let you decide which.
His first speech to parliament in 1547 is considered by many as one of the most rousing presentations in history, laying down the law, in affect saying “Here I am. Obey my every word”, and clearly stating exactly how he liked his pie.
|“|| Page 1259, The British Annals
And the king uttered to the expectant parliamentary audience;
Well… Yeah... Um…
Keep on doing… stuff.
The speech was followed by many a sigh and much rolling of eyes, but the consensus was that it had been a rather bitchin' speech.
Charles was expected to take the usual path of an English king;
Gushing Speech - Strong Speech - Invade France - Pose for picture - Invade Holy Land - Get Married to Random Royal of other country - Pose - Purge various religious groups - Pose - Get married again - Pose - Invade Holy Land again (If too lazy just invade France) - Get married again - Pose - Pose - Pose - Pose - Pose - Pose - Pose - Invade France yet again - Pose - Bake Some Cookies - Pose with cookies - Die
But, alas, Charles seemed to have become lost somewhere between Strong Speech and the traditional invasion of France, choosing instead to play incredibly primitive arcade games and look at his now expanded filthy tapestry collection. Gradually public opinion turned from anticipation to indifference then annoyance, boredom, indignation, constipation, hungry and finally crankiness.
In addition to his regular pizza ordering, sleeping into 4pm every day and regular parties with his wild haired "College Buddies", who referred to him as Your Royal Dudeness; Charles' gross misuse of royal powers drew criticism from many nobles. His prank calls became an extreme annoyance, taking months to transport through rain hail or shine only to turn out to be pathetic, usually filthy puns. A good example is this note which lead to the deaths of 17 Servants.
|“|| The exact words of His Majesty, King Charles "Fat-man" III
I am seeking a Lord I. Lykmen, middle name Really.
Pffttt he he he he
Dude, you'll spoil the prank
But, in his one and only foray into politics, he did legalize a tall green crop with strange shaped leaves for general use. Not much is remembered of the following couple of years except the royal bedside table became pants-wettingly funny.
Years passed, Charles became balder, fatter and lazier. The wild parties had come to an end, replaced by a bottle of Vodka behind the throne. He passed time, mainly by scratching and rubbing his nose and buttocks depending on which was dripping or itching.
The Interesting Years Slightly Less Unimpressive Years
Outside England it was a very interesting time to be around; Spain was invading the new world, the Dutch were invading France, Italy was invading itself, most of Europe was invading Poland and giant reptilian monsters were invading Japan.
Inside England however it was a different story. The only news of note was that a Yorkshire fishwife had baked a particularly good batch of cookies, but even this was short lived as it was later discovered that the chocolate chips were actually rat droppings and the nice chewy bits were her husband's arm.
Not that the king helped the situation much. His diplomatic endeavours extended as far as sending a delegation, primarily represented by his index finger, on the arduous journey up his left nostril. In words of one syllable; it was probably time to move.
In November, 1555 the parliament ordered the castle be fumigated after a large rat population was discovered living behind the throne. Now, normally the parliament would have just left the rats to breed until they devoured the whole inbred population of the castle and be done with this whole monarchy thing, but rejecting building applications has become incessantly boring and a particularly large rat had taken off with the Prime-minister's sheep liver Danish. So Charlie boy and the rest of the assorted royal household were shipped off to the nearest hotel.
Ye Newe Chunder Boxe was not the finest institution in the land, but - apparently - it was fit for a King. Having called for room service numerous times throughout the night without success, the king decided to bless the dining room with his presence. Upon discovering that neither peacock nor pickled leopard was on the menu the monarch settled on the cold pork pie that would be his downfall.
Following several rounds of ale, an arm wrestling match, several more rounds of ale, an attempt to chat up a well endowed woman and even more rounds of ale the king returned to his exclusive suite. It was there on November the 5th that the royal consort found him the next day, lying slumped, lifeless over the crapper; his favourite sexually explicit T-shirt wrapped around his royal forehead.
His death was met with shock, which quickly turned to acceptance. The funeral precession only made it halfway to Westminster Abbey before it was interrupted by rumours of a talking goose. As word spread of the goose the reign of Charles III was quickly swept into the sands of time, where most suggest it belongs.
Everything that Charles had done was gradually reversed in time; France was duly invaded, the royal toilets were cleaned, throne reupholstered and royal hydroponics room replaced with a simple conservatory.
With nothing to satirize or take cheap jibes at, entertainers had fallen on hard times during his reign. The most popular stage show during the majority of the reign was Imitation of the King, which involved a large man sitting on a stool doing absolutely nothing for two and a quarter hours. The show achieved critical acclaim, with the nose picking scene granted particular praise and soon became a staple of English classes across the world.
Music other than that with gratuitous numbers of guitar riffs and repetitive screaming was frowned upon. But somehow this ditty slipped through;
|“|| Cue the lute
For there was a king named Charles the third,
T'was little more than an arrogant turd,
All he did was sit on his throne,
And eat pheasant meat from the bone.
In his reign he achieved no-thing,
You’d think in eight years he’d do something?
He didn’t take France, but he had the chance,
Catholics or Jews, he did purge none,
Nor was he stabbed or shot with a gun.
He wasn’t mocked in a Shakespeare play,
There weren’t even rumours that he was gay.
He smoked green plants, and soiled his pants.
He was a complete and total stoner,
Also most likely played with his bon-
Damn my lute has just bro-ken
Screw it – I’m not start-ing again.
Hmm hmm huh hmm huh hmm Charles the third, you self ob-sessed tur-d.
However, in a last flourish, Charles III is granted a brief mention in the 1869 epic novel War and Peace.
|“||The guards sat forlorn, throwing away time into the deep abyss of history. A scene reminiscent of the reign of King Whatshisname... you know... the one with the hat.||”|
Some people believe that Charles III faked his own death and moved to Switzerland for more excitement, despite the fact death would be much more interesting than Switzerland. However, Charles the Third is not believed to be the lead singer of a Serbian heavy metal band of the same name that finished runner up in the 1984 Eurovision song contest.
- ↑ Probably the cause of this whole darned mess.
- ↑ Regarded as the most important skill a king can possess
- ↑ Yeah like they would have that in the British Annals.
You just can't stop picking faults can you?
- ↑ I lie. Bureaucrats could never get tired of watching people suffer.
- ↑ Oh how times have changed, now you can only get deep fried sheep liver Danishes.
- ↑ Later to become Ye Old Chunder Boxe - 500 years may have passed but the beer is just as bad.
- ↑ A very complicated process that involved the king writing an official decree, a royal courier carrying the decree on the arduous journey down to the dining room, an official speaker reading the decree to the gathered audience and the inn keeper ignoring the decree and using it to scratch his bum.
- ↑ Which turned out to just be smoke, mirrors and complex computer graphics.
- ↑ Oh great, now you're misquoting War and Peace...
Fine, be that way. You can narrate it. I'm going... going...
wait, that’s not the door… here it is!
Forgot my keys.