Michael Allen - A Writer's Guide To Everything Important - The Omnibus Edition Of Seven Essential Guides For Fiction Writers

King Albert was sweating quite a lot now.

‘Ah, well,’ he said, ‘you see I haven’t been feeling too lively this last month, Esmerelda.’

‘Ms Esmerelda to you – even if you are King.’

‘Sorry, sorry, Ms Esmerelda. You see, I’ve been feeling a bit peaky, what with it being so warm and everything, and I’m not really used to it, not long-term. Gets on me chest a bit, does the heat, and I’ve always been chesty, ever since I was a little boy. Ask my mum if you don’t believe me.’

Esmerelda would have none of this. She proceeded to recite a further list of charges. These included missing appointments without advance notice, developing a head-ache at vital moments, and falling asleep within two minutes of completing his husbandly duties.

Speaking of falling asleep, the Grand Vizier was now well away, and snoring with it. I nudged King Albert and pointed this out.

‘Oh, he always does that,’ whispered Albert. ‘Completely bloody useless. He’s supposed to keep things running for me, but he hasn’t a clue. I ask him to do something and it’s Oh yes, your wish is my command, o master. And then a week or two later he denies that I ever told him to do anything.’

Meanwhile Esmerelda was finishing off her speech.

‘To conclude: the Union demands immediate and full rectification of all these faults and shortcomings, and in the absence of such complete and total rectification of all management failures, will reserve the right to take strike action. Is that clear?’

‘Oh, totally,’ said King Albert. And to our relief, Esmerelda got up and marched off. Keeping her nose in the air as she went.

We watched her go.

‘By heck,’ said King Albert. ‘If she was nothing but tits and arse that girl would be an absolute marvel. But unfortunately she’s got a mouth as well.’

I was too stunned by the sight of Esmerelda walking away to say anything. Her behind in movement was something that I have not witnessed the like of, nay, not in any of the universes what I have visited.

The Grand Vizier chose that moment to wake up.

‘Ah!’ he said. ‘Next item, complaints from the Union of Executioners and Torturers.’

King Albert became agitated. ‘What do they want this time?’

‘Much the same as before, your majesty. They went you to send them more customers. They are on piece-work, after all.’

King Albert groaned, even more pitifully than ever. ‘Go outside and tell them to wait a few minutes, Mr Vizier. Like, about twenty-four hours if you can manage it.’

‘Your wish is my command, o master,’ said the Grand Vizier. And he hobbled off towards the door, which was approximately two hundred yards away.

King Albert turned and looked at me. His expression was pitiful to behold. The poor fellow looked knackered.

‘You see what it’s like,’ he said. ‘Being King is absolutely no fun at all, Bernard! I’m now going to spend the next half-hour being bollocked by a gang of torturers and executioners – who are really frightening blokes, Bernard. And all because I don’t send them enough people to work on! But I don’t want to condemn anyone to death!’

And the poor chap began to sob, quite piteously.

‘I can’t play golf because although there’s a wonderful golf course, I didn’t think to ask for any clubs, you see. So there aren’t any.’

‘But there’s always the harem,’ I pointed out.

‘Harem? Don’t talk to me about the bloody harem.’ Tears streamed down King Albert’s cheeks. ‘I used to enjoy a really good shag. Nothing I enjoyed more, apart from my mum’s treacle tart. But now it’s just a horrible chore. You go in there, and you find there’s one on the bed, telling me to get on with it, and then there’s a whole bloody queue of them outside the door. And I get so worried that they’re going to lodge formal complaints that I can hardly get it up any more.’

Well, I could see that King Albert was in the most appalling mess, but he seemed to be unaware of the obvious solution.

‘But look here, Albert,’ I said. ‘There’s no need for all this gloom and doom. If you’re not having fun any longer, why don’t you just get up and leave?’

He turned to stare at me, his cheeks all wet with distress.

‘Leave? How could I possibly leave?’

‘Well,’ I said, in a most reasonable tone, ‘you could always come back with me.’

So he did.

Bernard had finished his story, and his pint, so I bought him another.

‘And that was that,’ he said. ‘Albert came back with me. Last Tuesday. Of course, he’d spent four years in the parallel universe where he was king, but in our universe he’d only been away ten days.’

‘But I saw Albert only yesterday,’ said the bloke with red hair. ‘And he told me he’d been away on holiday. In Benidorm.’

‘Ah, well, he would, wouldn’t he?’ said Bernard. ‘He’s a bit sensitive about the whole thing, is Albert. You would be too, in the circumstances.’

I don’t know about you, but I thought Bernard’s story about King Albert and the harem girls was really interesting. Of course, I didn’t believe all of it. I mean I didn’t believe that the Grand Vizier would have fallen asleep in the middle of an important meeting, for a start.

Anyway, I thought it would be quite interesting to have a word with King Albert, when I next saw him. I thought I might get him to tell me a bit more about Esmerelda and that. I think harem girls are really quite interesting. I wouldn’t mind meeting one or two myself. So, for the next couple of days, whenever I was going down Inkerman Street I kept my eyes open, and eventually I managed to bump into King Albert as he was walking towards the bus stop.

‘Morning,’ I said. I wasn’t sure if I should say ‘your majesty’ or not, but I thought not, on the whole, since he’s back in our universe now. ‘Did you have a good holiday?’

Albert shuddered, as if I had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt. ‘Ooh! Don’t ask, lad. Don’t ask.’

‘Bad, was it?’

‘Ooh, terrible, terrible.’

I made sure that no one could overhear us. ‘I, er, I gather you had a bit of trouble with the harem girls. Do you think I could have a few harem girls, if I had a rub of that lamp? I wouldn’t need as many as you, though. A couple of hundred would do for me.’

Albert looked up and down the street, just as I had, to make sure that no one else was listening. ‘You’ve been talking to Bernard, haven’t you?’ he said.

‘Well, yes,’ I admitted.

Albert looked me up and down. ‘How old are you, lad?’

‘Eighteen. Nearly.’

Albert nodded. ‘Well, I reckon you could do with a bit of advice.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to catch a bus in five minutes, but we’ve just got time. Let’s nip into the Dog and Ferret.’

We went into the pub and Albert ordered two pints and a double Scotch. ‘My friend’s paying,’ he said. So I did.

I took a look at Albert while we were waiting for the drinks. He had a very good suntan, and he did look as if he might have spent four years in a hot climate.

When the drinks arrived, Albert drank the whisky almost in one go. I was very impressed. Whenever I try to drink whisky I cough, and it makes my eyes water. Then he sank half of the pint of best bitter, and after that he guided me over to a quiet corner of the bar.

‘Now then, lad,’ he said. ‘Have you got a granny?’

‘I’ve got two.’

‘Right. Well, the day will come when one of your grannies asks you to clear out her loft for her. As they do. And the thing is this, see. If, when you’re poking about in the loft there, you come across an old lamp, do you know what you definitely should not do?’

‘No, Albert.’