Once upon a time there was a Caterpillar, a Princess, and a Giraffe. The Giraffe and the Princess had just stolen away from the Highness’ castle and were on their way to an Elven Birthday party for cake and ice cream.

The Giraffe and the Princess came upon the lowly caterpillar and stopped short. The Princess was riding the long-necked beast like a horse; side-saddle like a proper lady, and when they skidded to a stop, she slid from the Giraffe and landed next to the Caterpillar.

The caterpillar was eating a juicy leaf.

The Caterpillar turned to look at what was making the incredible trampling noises behind him and what had landed so very close to him. Whenever the caterpillar crawled around he made a sound that went Errrr-eeeee-errrrr-eeeee ::move index finger back and forth like a worm::

The Princess leaned down, close to the ground and whispered “Hallo Mr. Caterpillar! Would you like to come to a party and eat some cake?”

The Caterpillar looked up from his leaf at the Giraffe and Princess (errrrrrr). He looked back down at the leaf (eeeeeeeee). Then back at the Giraffe and Princess (errrrrrrrrr). Then back, again, to the leaf. (eeeeeeee). Finally he looked up at the pair, took a deep breath, and said:

“GET OFF ME FOOT YA DAFT CUNT!”

This was a cockney caterpillar.

The Giraffe, startled, reared up. The princess, looked down and noticed her toe WAS pressed upon the caterpillar. The Princess stepped back, and, unfortunately, stepped right underneath the raised hooves of the Giraffe. When the Giraffe found his footing again, he landed squarely on the princess.

The princess suffered major injuries. The worst injury was the severing of her Xiphoid process, also known as the xiphisternum, which lacerated her liver. She thusly bled out into her body cavity and died.

The end.

Moral of the story: Don’t fuck with Brits. Or caterpillars. Or maybe, don’t ask John for a bedtime story.

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