Camelot

Some claimed that Camelot was noble, a place built upon the stony ground of good-intentions, it was new and fangled, it was progressive in a time of little progress. I have seen it, I was there, always there was the choking fog of intrigue, even the unintrigued grabbed their throats least subversive thoughts escaped them. Old King Arthur was deliriously inane, the people pitied him and did not love him, some said he was an alien lizard being, some claimed that he was soulless, or so it seemed, and yet he was forever babbling about restoring the soul of the Kingdom. Corruption grew like a malignant Ivy. The women of Camelot were constantly angry, their anger made them fat with a wishful bile. Many females wanted to be men, yet strangely enough they hated the menfolk. The men were fragile and sensitive, Merlin had cursed them with the fey magic of 'Low T'. Trust me, it was a great day when the kingdom fell to the massed hordes of disaffected and disgruntled Goths. Fresh blood was drunk from royal goblets, children with wooden swords chased the pork out of feral gangs of squealing hogs until they were as nakedly pink as plucked chickens.