101 YEARS OLD AND STILL REWRITING HISTORY...
EDWARD the Confessor died childless on January 5, 1066, leaving the succession to the throne of England a matter of great dispute. The main rivals were the English earl Harold Godwinson and the French Duke, William of Normandy, both of whom maintained that Edward had nominated them as successor.
Some scrolls I have just found in the attic of Beachcomber Towers however throw much light on this dispute. They reveal that Harold II, as he became after his coronation on January 6, 1066, was in the habit of scrawling his thoughts in the middle of the night on parchment and sending them to William, who sent back his terse replies with a French stamp on.
These were apparently known at the time as “Twytterynges” but their contents were thought lost until now.
The first message comes from Harold and is dated January 7: “Yah, boo, sucks, I’m the King now and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
William replied: “Oh yeah? Gimme your crown, or else.”
Harold: “Or else what? You and whose army?”
William: “My army. I have archers who could hit your eye with an arrow at a considerable distance.”
Harold: “My archers are better than your archers and my arrows are sharper too. Don’t even think about it.”
William: “By the time I’ve finished with you and your archers, England will be mine and you’ll all be a part of Europe. Except you, who’ll be dead.”
Harold: “England will never be part of Europe.”
William: “It was part of Europe before the last Ice Age and will be so again. It’s what the English want.”
Harold: “Codswallop! I’ve talked it over with many of my countrymen and by a clear majority they don’t want to have anything to do with you froggies.”
William: “Take that back! Or I’ll come with my archers and sort you out.”
Harold: “No I won’t take it back. And if you continue with your threats, my own army will cross the Channel and utterly demolish your lot. As soon as they’ve sorted out the Vikings in the North of England, that is.”
William: “Bring it on, I say. You’re just delaying matters ‘cos you’re an old scaredy-cat.”
Harold: “Scared? Scared of you? Don’t make me laugh. They call you William the Bastard and I can see why.”
William: “Right, that’s it! You’ll call me William the Conqueror by the time I’ve finished with you. Get your diary out and we’ll fix the time and place for a showdown. I’ll come over, sort you out, then have a transition period of a few years while my accountants conduct a proper survey of all my new realm so that we can put a fair system of taxation in place.”
Harold: “I told you I’m busy with the Norse invaders at the moment. I’m not going to change my schedule just for the convenience of your Domesday [probably a mis-twytterynge for ‘Doomsday’] scenario.”
William: “Right! Just be at Hastings in October. And if you’re don’t show up, I’ll tell the world you’re chicken.” Harold: “You Bastard!” And the rest is history.