[Get This]




In need of nutritional advice, Zen Master Biscuit happened upon his good friend Le Pen as they were swimming in the lake one summers evening.

As their fair heads bumped together they immediately recognised each other.

"Ah! Zen Master Biscuit!", splurted Le Pen, "What a rare and precious occasion that our crowns should meet in agreement upon the Divine Nature of All Things relative and also absolute!"

Le Pen was very attractive looking considering his age.

"Do you know anything about losing weight, you fine looking chap?" enquired Master Biscuit.

"Well for a start I don't eat biscuits!", smiled Le Pen.

"Ok. Ok. Ok. Let's not get too personal!", scowled old Biscuit.

"Ha. Ha!", chortled Le Pen, "Ok. Well the great dietician Co Lon Clenze suggests in his great book 'The Classic of the No Way of Nutrimentalness' for us to eat like a king in the morning and eat like a beggar at night."

"Thank you my good friend. This advice is invaluable to me." And so saying he leapt out of the water in one huge lump, landed on the shore but realised it was the shore without his clothes on. So he leapt back into the lake and swam like an eclectic eel to the other shore where he rubbed himself down with a towel and a spare biscuit...

"Hey! Master Biscuit!", shouted Le Pen from the great lake.

"What is it old fruity Pen?" replied Biscuit "Can't you see I'm in a hurry?"

"That's my towel!", snorted Le Pen.

"Sorry Pen!", barked Biscuit, "But this is important."

And he ran off to find a King! He was stopped by the village police for running naked through the town centre.

"Biscuit!", shouted the policewoman, "With such a body I am surprised that you should be evoking the great dance of the claypot-on-the-potters-wheel! Anyhow, it's not the right time of the year for that dance. This season it's "Those that wear many robes even in the warm summers eve." Don't you ever consult your Classic DaiBottawa Diary, you that go by the name of Biscuit?"

"I have no time for such talk!", yelled Zen Master Biscuit as he ran off down the street, "But here are the reasons. One, i am search of the highest nutritional advice in the Land. Two, I am the chief editor of the DaiBottawa Diary and thus never read the publication. Three, could you lend me your coat for half an hour my dear?"

Thus spake Zen Master Biscuit.

So this is how The Biscuit happened to arrive at the King's Court dressed in a policewoman's coat on that otherwise uneventful day.

The Guard stopped our Biscuit at the Palace Gates.

"'Ere ye Biscuit!", grisped the Guard, "What in 'evens noime brangs ye to the palash thish 'ere marning?"

The guard liked to sparkle up his day by speaking in different regional accents and dialects. This being his twenty third year in service, he was getting rather proud of his abilities and thought to give old Biscuit one of his best recitals.

"Very good, dear Gropple." For that was the guards name. "I am very much in need of an audience with our good King!"

"Awroight my dear luv biscuit," said the Guard Gropple. Zen Master Biscuit was on good terms with the palace staff as he was very much coming and going, hither and thither, to and from the palace on regular occasions, and just like today, on some irregular occasions also.

"Phew", cried the Biscuit to the Heavens, "That's enough narrative. Let's get on with the story. The racings on at 3.30 and I need to look my best!"

"Right ho Biscuit!", barked the Guard loudly and operatically at the same time.

He reached into his shoulder bag (Palace regulation uniform) and brought forth his trumpet!

"Yes! Fantastic old Gropple! Give it a blow and summon the four winds from the five corners of somewhere or another."

"Sorry to be a source of disappointment Biscuit," mooched the guard sadly, "But we is banned from blowing it anymore since that incident with the cow and the Queen of Bargartha. I think you might remember your small but vitally important part on that day."

"Oh yes!", the Biscuit exclaimed with delight, "Yes. Now I remember."

"That's a great pity Biscuit. For on the day you forgot and thus we can no longer bloweth our horneth for another five thousand years into the future. By which time they will have probably and quiet regretably, forgotten what the horn of crumpet is all about!"

"Rubbish Gropple. Absolute pith!", chortled the biscuit, "No one will ever forget the meaning of the horn of crumpet."

Suddenly a voice spoke rather sharpishly from the backdrop of eternity.

"Excuse me you two? Could we get on with the story please. I have a dentist appointment within the hour."

"Absolutely my dear!", unisoned Gropple and the Biscuit.

Biscuit scratched his head furiously. I must remember to buy a hairbrush, he thought.

"Now where were we Gropple?"

"You were just going to lend me your hairbrush!"

"No. No. No. That's later after the dance scene."

"Yes. Silly me. Well may Heaven blight me with a thousand years of nose bunkles and ear rigglers. If that ain't the truth of the matter me old Biscuit and blimey cor luv a duck an' when we get out of this remind me to buy you something for the weekend."

"GET ON WITH IT!" Roared the voice from the silent void.

"My that silent void is making a lot of noise today isn't it Biscuit!", smiled Gropple.

"Yes. Well spotted there Grops me old fruit. Hmmm very peculiar it is to. Too peculiar for the likes of me and you, eh Gropple. Grops. Groplike friend."

Time for an accent thinks Gropple. Deep breath in.

"VERILY. FOR SOOF! TIS SO! AND IN THE END ALL THINGS SHALL BE SO. And so forth and so on." he boomed majestically in a Shakespearian fashion. Unfortunately for our Gropple, Shakespeare is out of fashion this season! He should have consulted his Daibottawa Diary!

"The problem with the Daibottawa diary Biscuit, is that most people misread it at first glance as 'Dairy' like something that house's cows for the production of milk and other milk based edibles. You must do something about the title Biscuit."

"Yes. Well spotted there Grops me old fruit."


"SHUT UP! You silent void. The only peaceful abode in the entire creation that zillions of bewildered and suffering souls seek! Why can't you play your part and keep quiet. I mean what will happen when all those millions of meditators turn up knocking on your door, offering up all sorts of treats, that most of 'ere mortals would die for, and there you go greeting them with a loud, booming voice! Saying stupid things from the back of Eternity. I mean! It doesn't really inspire a person to follow the spiritual path to eternal bliss does it?!"

There was a silent pause from the silent void.

"Come on!", shouted Biscuit, "Speak up! What have you to say about that then!"

There was another silent pause from the silent, ever-still, ever blissful void of pure emptiness that sitteth at the very centre of all things and sez nothing what-so-ever-i-can-tell-you. It was a similar silent pause but just slightly different which was obvious only to the trained ear.

"Sorry", whispered the ever-silent-void rather sheepishly.

"That's better", snapped Biscuit, "And don't you forget it!"

He turned sternly to Gropple.

"Sound the Trumpet of Crumpet Gropple. Damn these billibus laws!"

"I will", Gropple smugged, "If you will stop turning sternly and turn just like anybody else. I mean. Who do you think you are turning sternly around here. Eh? Think your special do you Biscuit. Going around with a name like Zen Master Biscuit? It's all gone to your head mate."

"Ok. Ok. Ok. I will. I agree. I do. Now blow that trumpet."

Sound of a jazz trumpet solo.

"Great Witherspoons Gropple!" Biscuit spun the policewoman's hat around his head in amazement. "Now that's some crumpet trumpet playing daddy-o."

As if by magic, the King appeared suddenly in a puff of smoke looking hurriedly dressed, smoking a cigar.

"This had better be important Biscuit!", snarled the King, "I am expecting The Queen of Leatherstocks to be arriving very soon."

"Oh mighty King! The Full Moon of the Full Sky. 18 Full Street. Fulhampton. FU16 8AN." He addressed the King.

"I warn you Biscuit. My postal address has never been FU! I hope you are not insinuating something buttery?" The King raised a kingly eyebrow.


"How did you say that without moving your lips, Biscuit?"

"I didn't!", retorted Biscuit.

"Didn't what?", boomed the King.

"Do that again will you", chuckled Gropple.

"Do what?", boomed the King.

"That booming", chuckled Gropple, "It railly is vairy Kingly and roight and praper it is too."

"Ok. But on one condition," boomed the King.

"Too late", chuckled Biscuit.

"Too late for what?" boomed the King.

"Too late for conditions about booming, that's what!" chuckled Biscuit.

"Look. Will you two stop chuckling all your lines. It's not fair on us Kings who can only go around booming all the time", boomed the King.

"That's not what you said last week after Queen LeatherStockings royal visit", boomed Gropple.

"Now look here Gropple!" boomed the King, "No booming infront of the King you know the rules of the Land."


"How did you say that without moving your lips Gropple? What's going on around here? All this chuckling and saying sorry without moving your lips. Not to mention booming infront of the King. And also it's Leatherstocks not leatherstockings!" boomed the King with a twitch at the name of the Queen or was it the mention of leatherstockings. We will never know and neither should we want to because some things are private especially if you are The King of The Land.


"Ok. Ok. Ok. I want some answers and I would like them soon. But being a reasonable and gentle King I shall allow you to think things over and submit in writing your answers on a postcard. Address it to me, The King..."

"The Full Moon of the Full Sky. 18 Full Street. Fulhampton. FU16 8AN. Yeah. We know how to address our King." chorused Gropple and The Biscuit.

"Yes", coughed the King, "That's more like it. Send them second class to save on the pennies, after all it's me that's paying for all of this at the end of the day."

He flapped his majestic hand at the Kingdom of The Land.





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