The King and I were born in South Africa a few centuries apart. He was born an extremely rare albino giant kingfisher in 1688 and grew up to be an expert fisherman fishing the magnificent unspoilt coastal pools of the bay of the Cape of Good Hope. That was when the first European settlers started arriving in fantastical ships unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Most intrigued by the mysterious strange new people, he decided to stow away on board a ship returning back to Britain, much to his dear mother's chagrin, and embark on an epic and audacious adventure. At sea, he experienced an exciting series of escapades, the most perilous of which was almost being devoured by a scurvy ravaged sailor on the last leg of the journey. Fortunately, he managed to fly ashore and land safely in Kent. After surreptitiously rambling around and reconnoitring the lie of the land at that historic time, he encountered Count Mandrake, the magical mandrake root manikin, equally surreptitiously rambling around the English country side. Naturally they became best friends, as you know, because you read ABOUT it and how he came to be on his last legs and then get his new legs, yes? Perhaps one day you'll get to read a more detailed embellishment of their intrigues in an epistolary or epic scholarly researched book, depending on which format the Queen decides upon. Otherwise, the King is Head of the Avian Reconnaissance Monitoring Earth Network aka A.R.M.E.N and spends most of his time consorting with birds to discuss the plight of the planet at large. He receives messages about the state of affairs across the globe from the migratory birds. Currently there's not much good news at all as far as we Consumans are concerned. Sadly we're NOT in their good books!
The King is an international connoisseur of books with good looks and reads and is guardian of The Book of Bird, an ever expanding set of volumes begun centuries ago. Today the latest copies are beautifully hand written by the King’s official Royal Calligrapher, a commanding wooden doll called Berdine Blotbottom who has whale travelled the world. Her wooden hand made whale is named Captain Will. He has legs so he's also land worthy. Berdine now limits her whale riding to weekends partly because she was getting annoyed with having a soggy sea bottom all the time and partly because she now writes for the King most of the time. Berdine is completely fluent in Bird. The Book of Bird books, hardly bigger than match boxes, are beautifully bound with chocolate habanero chilli leather and stored in an extra special library in the King’s Palace. This has to be the most fascinating book collection in all the world, unfortunately I haven't been privy to any of its content, as the ruling founders don't believe I'm "quite of the right ilk as yet". The delicate pliable yet strong golden orb spider silk pages are scribed with teensy tiny twiggy text legible to birds and Berdine but totally unfathomable to humans. The scripts are recorded tales from birds from all over the world for they are the true truth seekers and tweeters of our world wide web of intrigue and human league of confusion and corruption. Each precious book, once completed, is watermarked with a solitary sad tear discharged by the King to make it official. This practice inspired his wife to honour him with the beautanical name, Filigrane meaning ‘watermark’ in French. It's heart breaking to see the King so sad. What can we do Consumans?