The Damp Cardigan Rises
Cardigan Towers is a vast structure set against a backdrop of unimaginable beauty and unparalleled wonder. Winged creatures of unmatched terror circle the turrets that, even in the daytime, seem permanently bathed in the brightest of moon beams. Through the infinite corridors and immense halls a sense of judgement resides that could only have been forged by an ancient, medieval blacksmith out of pure energy. It is here; in near solitude that Lord Cardigan, an impressive specimen of masculinity, sits on his throne of judgement dealing out opinions for his winged pets to deliver to the tyrannous.
Lord Cardigan (or Damp to those who know him well enough to risk there fragile lives by addressing him thusly) awoke with a problem. The master of all he surveys rarely has a problem with anything that can’t be sorted out with a quick swing of his opinion hammer which is nothing like the one Thor has. The problem was directly related to the lack of a symbol instead of the issues created weekly by The Conservative, his mortal enemy.
“A DRAWING!” exclaimed our hero waking the creatures who deliver his sermons to the masses using only one wing, the left one. They hate the right wing you see (so close to satire).
“I need a drawing. One that adequately represents the glorious history of myself and will strike fear into the hearts and minds of the wicked and isn’t a bit like Batman’s.”
Out of his chamber and into the great hall of the structure ran the Lord. He was looking for his only companion.
“ALEC!” screamed Cardigan. “Alec I need you at once.”
The booming voice of the philanthropist shook the very walls and reverberated until Alec appeared, almost in complete silence. Alec is Lord Cardigan’s entirely heterosexual man servant who waits on our hero’s every need and, in most versions of the myth, is the only other person aware of what’s going on which is still nothing like Batman.
“You rang m’lord.”
“Where have you been I’ve been calling you for hours?”
“I’m sorry sir, I was drawing up the plans you asked for. You know the ones about the possibility of turning the network of caves underneath the Towers into a state of the art command centre.”
“Never mind that now.”
“Oh really? That’s a shame. I was just getting to the part where you slide down a pole that inexplicably changes your clothes halfway down”.
“I need a drawing Alec.”
“That’s what I was doing.”
“No. I need a symbol, one that represents my intolerance of evil, a pictorial chart of my wrath, if you will.”
“Ok sir. What shall I draw?”
“JESUS! I can’t do everything around here. You do it. Go on, back to your quarters and get on with it. While your there, get me a Snickers Duo.”
“Anything else?”
“A summer fruits Oasis.”
“Very well sir.”
Alec glided off to his cell to carry out his masters bidding. Cardigan was left to ponder the possibilities of his entirely original idea. What could this symbol do for me? He thought of the fear that will be induced by the mere sight of the pictographic embodiment of all that he stands for. He sweated with excitement when conjuring up thoughts of symbol themed vehicles and crime fighting outfits that don’t feature rubber nipples. What of the merchandising? “I’ll be RICH!” he joyously announced to himself. Why has no one ever thought of retaining merchandising rights before? “God, I AM a visionary.”
Cardigan’s depth of vision is matched only by his impatience. He wanted his drawing NOW. He needs it before he can call the building contractors in to build his Damp-Cave and blindly hope that they will never speak to anyone of what they have built. (Come on, you can’t honestly think that he could take on such a vast project and complete it on his own.)
Sitting on his throne his patience has worn so thin people have named a diet after it. His hand punched the intercom;
“ALEC! Where is my symbol?” Cardigan screamed. There was silence for a few seconds. Alec’s voice crackled through the speakers;
“Uh, it’s only been ten minutes sir.”
“I don’t care, bring me what I asked for”
“We’re all out of Snickers sir.”
“Not the chocolate you fool MY DRAWING!”
“It’s not done yet sir.”
“Well bring me what you’ve done so far” snarled the Lord “and, my drink.”
“Very well” huffed the servant and he left the confines of his cell to present his master with his work.
Alec entered the private chambers of Lord Cardigan as he had done many times before, in fear. Resting on his outstretched palms was a silver platter and resting on that was a freshly chilled summer fruits Oasis and a piece of paper. All his years of servitude and etiquette training could not stop his hands from trembling as he approached his master.
“Thank you Alec” smiled Lord Cardigan in a rare moment of gratitude. He took the drink first, prolonging the visible agony for his manservant. He then, very slowly, turned the piece of paper over to reveal what he hoped would be a frightening depiction of his wrath.
“What the fuck is this?” asked Cardigan calmly.
“It’s what you asked for” replied Alec somewhat bemused.
“I asked for this? I asked for you to insult me and my family’s lineage?”
“I have not meant to insult you sir. I merely did as I was required.”
“It’s a fucking cardigan Alec. You have drawn a DAMP cardigan! Did I ask you to draw my fucking surname? No, I did not. Do you know why?
“No sir”
“Because of how stupid and unimaginably pointless that would’ve been”
“But sir, you asked me to draw something that will strike fear into the hearts of the wicked.”
“I know I did. Explain yourself”
“Well, I couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than you sir”
Cardigan pondered this for a moment. His reluctant servant was right.
“Alec, I have underestimated you. You have outdone yourself this time. Here, you may finish my summer fruits Oasis.”
Alec took the near empty bottle and shook the remaining drops into his parched mouth.
“Thank you sir. You are most generous.”
“I know. Now, there is one more thing I need from you before dinner”
“What’s that sir?”
“I have just had a vision. Whenever anyone is in need of me, wherever they are, there should be a device for drawing this symbol in the sky. Build me one.”
“Like a Damp Signal?”
“Yes but we’ll call it something else.”
And so it came to pass. The wrongs and injustices of the world would be taken care of by our watchful guardian and protector wielding the awesome power of the blog. He’s perhaps, not the hero we deserve right now but the hero we need. He is our DAMP KNIGHT.
Excerpt taken from ‘The Chronicles of Cardigan’ Version 2.
Phil Watson
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