THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS


One day, while scrolling through his phone,

Sir White let out a mournful groan.

He’d read a trending SOS:

The hashtag #DamselinDistress.

The pics of this forlorn affair

Exhibited a maiden fair

Who, for, perhaps, the hundredth hour

Was trapped inside a lofty tower

And down below her, truth be told,

He saw a sight that left him cold:

Patrolling, in a curved zigzag run

He saw a vicious, savage DRAGON.


Now knights believe that grand old story –

Live for honour, die for glory,

Prudence, truth and valour, seek,

Abate the wrong, protect the weak;

Achieve all this, and then you shall

Be kissable to *every* gal.

The rich will fill your purse with coin,

The femmes will jump upon your groin,

You’ll live enough for eighty lives,

Then die while pleasuring your wives.

Deciding that she must be freed,

He clambered up his trusty steed,

Then went full gallop, hooves like hell

To liberate the demoiselle.


He nightly slumbered under trees

And dreamt of lusty divorcees;

He thought of stopping at a florist

After passing through a forest

But when he’d ventured through the shire

Sir White beheld a burst of fire

And thought: “It might be cowardice

But why did I sign up for this?”


He sneaked up slow. Beneath a keep,

He saw the dragon, fast asleep.

The flames were from the dragon’s snoring;

Sir White exclaimed, “Well, this is boring.”

He charged with gallant certitude,

Cried God for virgins, dames, St Jude,

And struck the brute beneath the wing

Then thought: “Well, that one’s got to sting.”

The dragon writhed and thrashed and bled

Then squirmed and coiled and fell down dead.

Sir White advanced to claim his prize,

But promptly stopped and rubbed his eyes:

ANOTHER knight egressed the woods

And said: “I’m here to claim my goods.

Tis I! Sir White! The Hero True

But who the bloody hell are you?

Now stand aside, and acquiesce

The darling Damsel in Distress.”

Sir White cried out, “But *I’M* Sir White!

Thou’ve plagiarised my copyright!

This crime necessitates the action

Of single combat satisfaction.”

The two White Knights began to brawl

And pretty soon, this vicious maul

Had left them battered, bloodied, raw –

Approximately at death’s door.

But as they started feeling solemn

A door swung at the damsel’s column

And out emerged TWO wenches sweet,

Who walked and stood about their feet.

Sir White exclaimed, “Now there’s a plus –

A belladonna EACH for us!

Now neither knight need feel bereft

If thy take righty, I take left.

Young ladies, now that ye’ve been saved,

It’s high time that ye Misbehaved.

So nurse us till we’re in fine fettle –

Start by putting on the kettle.”


The taller damsel bent down low

And said: “We both have NAMES, you know.

I’m Professor Sarah Bourne,

And here’s my colleague, Dr Vaughan.

We’re both research biologists.

We write endangered species lists.

And you’re the biggest twits we’ve met –

You shouldn’t trust the internet.”

She phoned the RSPCA

Who hurried over, straight away.

Their foremost doc, a fine artiste,

Succeeded to revive the beast

(And as she is a bold dissenter

She sent it to a rescue centre).

The two White Knights were nursed and rested,

And from their clinic beds, arrested.


A useful message in this tale

(Particularly if you’re male)

Is White Knights often make things worse.

Probe please, the warning from this verse –

The world is full of vast illusions,

So don’t commit to quick conclusions.