Moreish.. involving eggs. WARNING: I get quite daft
I felt I should write. Its been awhile since I wrote. Since then stuff has happened, riots have erupted, Gaddafi's dissapeared, the last shuttle mission came and went, I had a technicolour doomed romance, I pondered the existence of Mt. Rushmore, a Meteor fell to earth near Cusco, Its started to get cold again, I almost considered moving to Paris. Lots of stuff.
Billions of things. I'm now the first employee of the London Bridge Experience to work both in the History section and the zombie section simultaneously. This is a thing. Its a thing of variety. Upstairs is silly. Here, in full I present the family history of the Eggman Family. A group I created on a whim for a certain week of shows. I hope it proves illuminating..
C. 60AD - Weetabix Eggman
Weetabix Eggman, an egg trader from Gaul finds himself caught up in the Iceni revolt. While selling eggs in Colechester, the Roman capital, a bunch of naked blue iceni warriors appear and set about tearing up the place, a number of his eggs are smashed, unsold, so Weetabix packs up his stand and hightails it for Londinium where, no sooner has he set up his stall then the revolt catches up with him. Put upon by a naked blue warrior he narrowly avoids death when a Roman centurion intervenes. However, said centurion is killed, in a scuffle that smashes the rest of eggs and scatters his tame hens that until then had followed him in line throughout his egg selling life. Seeking compensation, Weetabix finds the Governers tent, but finds him beheaded. A group of idots help him look for his chickens, they take off after one but never return. Weetabix waits around for a few hours before deciding to get out of Brittania.
c.1014AD -Olaf Eggmanson
Olaf is a 5th generation Norwiegen descended from Weetabix, whose ancestors settled in Norway around 740AD. Selling eggs. Olaf's father Bjorn had died passing on his chicken farm to his son, however this was taken by the Danes during one of the many internecine Scandanavian wars of the late 10th century. So, joining the Viking fleet under the leadership of Olaf Harroldson, Olaf Eggmanson sailed to London with the last remaining family hens stowed in the bow of the craft. There, with an army of new recruits, he aided in tearing down London bridge. Olaf then settled in England, changing his name to Eggman and shearing off his long blond hair. His chickens were fruitful and multiplied.
c1205AD - Thomas Eggman
Thomas Eggman earned fame and popularity for his Eggs when he became the Eggman of choice for Peter De Colechurch, the architect of London Bridge. He provided Peter with his favourite 'Poached Eggs' until his death in 1205. Famously (among the Eggman family anyway) during the consecration of Colechurch's crypt, Thomas crept past the assembled mourners and planted a single egg, by way of commemeration, in the right hand of Peter's corpse. Unfortunately the attending priest spotted Thomas, and he was kicked from the chapel. It was many years before an Eggman could stand in public and announce to all assembled that he was indeed an Eggman, such was the family embarrasment. Only the establishment of Eggman's Eggs on the bridge itself in 1209 saved the family name.
c. 1599AD - William Eggman
William, or Billy Eggman was tired of eggs, he was the eldest son of a family that had bred hens and sold eggs for over a millenium and a half. Thus it was, that on the eve of his 14th birthday he became the scion of the clan Eggman by rejecting his heritage and choosing instead to work with heads, becoming first apprentice to, and then the Keeper of the Heads. His father ran 'Eggman's eggs' on the bridge alone, the venerable 390 year old family business, he was now faced with the end of his egg selling line. He wept furiously and tried to train his hens in book keeping, but to no avail. He awaited his death with frustation. Fearing the end of Eggs.
But it was not to be, 10 years into his job as Keeper of the Heads, William became more and more obsessed with the resemblance of eggs to heads, the boiling of them, the baldness of the skull as it slowly revealed itself before the administrations of the flocking crows. And so, in 1599 he put word around that he was looking for an apprentice. In 1600, chastened, but certain, he returned to the shop on the bridge, ready to commit fully to the egg that flowed in his veins.
c.1633AD - Robert Eggman
The reign of Robert, son of William, marked the beginnings of a rapid decline for the Eggman family's fortunes. By 1633, Eggman's Eggs was at the height of its power, hens in cages lined the walls, a huge wooden egg hung above the door, anyone who was anyone in 17th century London made it known that their egg of choice was an Eggmans. But in 1633 disaster struck, a fire ravaged the bridge, burning 41 houses in all, during the blaze half of the Eggman premises was swept away, along with 90 percent of their prize winning poultry stock. The entire front wall with its egg shaped entrance, along with the ancient wooden egg suspended above it, the symbol of the family for over 100 years, was burned away. The lack of a wall made chicken containment difficult, and the increasingly stressed Robert never thought to construct a new one, so blinkered was he by the success he'd witnessed converted to ash. Eventually the stress killed him, leaving the shop in the hands of his imaginitive but dimwitted son Benedict.
c.1667AD - Benedict Eggman
In 1666 came the great fire of London, it marked another great blow for the crippled Egg shop of Eggman, all of the remaining Hens went mental and ran straight into the blaze. Their unlaid eggs frying inside them. Unable to procure hens, Benedict turned instead to other animals, conducting bizarre experiments to see which, if any, could produce a suitable saleable egg.
First Benedict procured a Turkey, but on taking it home he realised he'd been had, the turkey was dead, bringing it back to the store he obtained another bird, a chicken, a great spark of joy lit in Benedict's heart, but on returning home it was quickly doused as he realised he'd once again taken home a deceased bird. Deciding to take matters into his own hands he captured a pigeon and set about attempting to sell its eggs, after 6 months of this he realised that there just wasn't the market for it, and anyway, the pigeon itself had impaled its head on a curved spike, protruding from the establishments half a roof, dying instantly.
Next, Benedict captured a duck from a pond in Southwark. This, for a week at least, proved a success, but the poor animal proved fierce lonesome for its pond and its weeping kept Benedict awake many a night. Then, one dreadful morning, Benedict came down the half a stairs in his half a house to find the duck had hung itself during the night, joining the pigeon as a gruesome sacrifice on the eggy alter of science. Benedict was greatly moved by the death of the duck, as, having grown up around fowl, he was often closer to them then he was to the majority of humans who entered his life. So, one April morning in 1667 he decided to change tack, purchasing a Badger. Unfortunately, the Badger, however much he was goaded, failed to produce any eggs, so taking a fine blade Benedict proceeded to dissect the beast in search of anything remotely eggy. He failed. The skin he hung on a hook next to the hanging duck and the pigeon. Soon the body of a stoat joined them, also dissected, again no eggs.
At this juncture a man by the name of Roger the Profane came a knocking on the patch of air that used to hold a door, with a bird for sale, it was a Turkey by the name of Finbarr, its price, 3 of the families mystical 'ever-eggs' special Eggman family eggs that never went off, produced by a hen that had lived for 200 years from 1305 to 1505, itself the wonder of its age, its eggs a culinary delight of delights that astounded the world. After this purchase, only two of the prized eggs remained in Eggman's possession. (Though others lay uneaten elsewhere, one in the Sultans palace in Baghdad, one at the bottom of the Atlantic, and another in the year 505340AD, where it had landed in the hands of a sentient star faring squirral after dropping through a Temporal rift. For a time, one of these special eggs was incorporated into the crown jewels, where it lasted for a good 10 years or so before a nasty cleaning accident. Heads literally rolled) It was a staggering price for a turkey, but Benedict was desperate. (Noone knows what became of Roger, or the eggs in his possessions, many works of fiction have been written about this fabled cache of ever-eggs, one of the more well known ones, and a personal favourite is of course by Agatha Christie. In her 'Egg Salad', the Belgium Detective Hercule Poirot relies on his Egg knowledge the solve a string of murders involving omlettes in Siams burgeoning egg culture of the 1920s. Although her theory that the eggs formed the basis of the Thai monarchy is interesting, it has no basis on any historicalogical evidence)
The Turkey was an extraordinary character, living for only a week, it produced only one thing before it died, an orange, as it died it uttered a single sentence "I am the future" but noone, let alone Benedict, has been able to decipher the meaning of that.
The last of Benedict's animals he found as he walked along the quays one morning, there, swimming towards him out of the mid morning mist, coughing like some withered old minister, was what Benedict assumed to be a Walrus. Luring it into his shop with the promise of Haggis, Benedict tied the whiskered beast down and set upon his hind regions for 3 weeks with a mallet. The only thing that emerged from the poor creature was a human hand, a right one, pointing at something forever mysterious. It was only with the intervention of a band of random midnight shoppers that Benedict the eggman was told that it was not in fact a Walrus, but was instead a common household Pig. As thanks for this information Benedict set about preparing an omlette with the two last remaining eggs. Obviously delirious from the 3 weeks of continuous pounding, Benedict accidentally managed to set the bridge on fire yet again as he lit his stove. The resulting fire destroyed the rest of Eggman's Egg shop, and Benedict was left to rebuild.
Cornelius Eggman - c.1856AD
Cornelius Eggman inherited a different, rather ordinary egg shop, in a London much changed. He found he could not exist as a salesman selling eggs alone, so he branched out. Eggman's Eggs, Books, and Bamboo was an unusual establishment to say the least, littered as it was with various inventions this Victorian Eggman devised and sold. However unlikely, Cornelius managed to carve himself a niche market out of the eccentric upper classes that abounded in the London of his era. As such, the great stink of 1856 hit his business rather hard, as the upper classes fled London for the country to escape the stench rising out of the river. Cornelius attempted to solve the problem by thinking empirically, that is, by adding the opposite of each smell to the river, in the hopes of cancelling the odour out. Thus, Owls were added to combat the smell of rotting fish (They flew away), a swimming competition for the boys and girls of Southwark workhouse was organised to eliminate the odor of dead bodies (None of the children could swim, most died, 4 were committed), and eggs were added to overcome the smell of all the poo added to the river by Thomas Crappers new flushing system (Also unsuccessful).
It was all for nought, and the family's eggs supplies were all used up fruitlessly and profitlessly. Thus Cornelious Eggman's life saw the family transition from Egg selling to just selling Books and Bamboo, as well as the occassional reversible hankerchief. Still, for the family, it had been a good run of it.
Billions of things. I'm now the first employee of the London Bridge Experience to work both in the History section and the zombie section simultaneously. This is a thing. Its a thing of variety. Upstairs is silly. Here, in full I present the family history of the Eggman Family. A group I created on a whim for a certain week of shows. I hope it proves illuminating..
C. 60AD - Weetabix Eggman
Weetabix Eggman, an egg trader from Gaul finds himself caught up in the Iceni revolt. While selling eggs in Colechester, the Roman capital, a bunch of naked blue iceni warriors appear and set about tearing up the place, a number of his eggs are smashed, unsold, so Weetabix packs up his stand and hightails it for Londinium where, no sooner has he set up his stall then the revolt catches up with him. Put upon by a naked blue warrior he narrowly avoids death when a Roman centurion intervenes. However, said centurion is killed, in a scuffle that smashes the rest of eggs and scatters his tame hens that until then had followed him in line throughout his egg selling life. Seeking compensation, Weetabix finds the Governers tent, but finds him beheaded. A group of idots help him look for his chickens, they take off after one but never return. Weetabix waits around for a few hours before deciding to get out of Brittania.
c.1014AD -Olaf Eggmanson
Olaf is a 5th generation Norwiegen descended from Weetabix, whose ancestors settled in Norway around 740AD. Selling eggs. Olaf's father Bjorn had died passing on his chicken farm to his son, however this was taken by the Danes during one of the many internecine Scandanavian wars of the late 10th century. So, joining the Viking fleet under the leadership of Olaf Harroldson, Olaf Eggmanson sailed to London with the last remaining family hens stowed in the bow of the craft. There, with an army of new recruits, he aided in tearing down London bridge. Olaf then settled in England, changing his name to Eggman and shearing off his long blond hair. His chickens were fruitful and multiplied.
c1205AD - Thomas Eggman
Thomas Eggman earned fame and popularity for his Eggs when he became the Eggman of choice for Peter De Colechurch, the architect of London Bridge. He provided Peter with his favourite 'Poached Eggs' until his death in 1205. Famously (among the Eggman family anyway) during the consecration of Colechurch's crypt, Thomas crept past the assembled mourners and planted a single egg, by way of commemeration, in the right hand of Peter's corpse. Unfortunately the attending priest spotted Thomas, and he was kicked from the chapel. It was many years before an Eggman could stand in public and announce to all assembled that he was indeed an Eggman, such was the family embarrasment. Only the establishment of Eggman's Eggs on the bridge itself in 1209 saved the family name.
c. 1599AD - William Eggman
William, or Billy Eggman was tired of eggs, he was the eldest son of a family that had bred hens and sold eggs for over a millenium and a half. Thus it was, that on the eve of his 14th birthday he became the scion of the clan Eggman by rejecting his heritage and choosing instead to work with heads, becoming first apprentice to, and then the Keeper of the Heads. His father ran 'Eggman's eggs' on the bridge alone, the venerable 390 year old family business, he was now faced with the end of his egg selling line. He wept furiously and tried to train his hens in book keeping, but to no avail. He awaited his death with frustation. Fearing the end of Eggs.
But it was not to be, 10 years into his job as Keeper of the Heads, William became more and more obsessed with the resemblance of eggs to heads, the boiling of them, the baldness of the skull as it slowly revealed itself before the administrations of the flocking crows. And so, in 1599 he put word around that he was looking for an apprentice. In 1600, chastened, but certain, he returned to the shop on the bridge, ready to commit fully to the egg that flowed in his veins.
c.1633AD - Robert Eggman
The reign of Robert, son of William, marked the beginnings of a rapid decline for the Eggman family's fortunes. By 1633, Eggman's Eggs was at the height of its power, hens in cages lined the walls, a huge wooden egg hung above the door, anyone who was anyone in 17th century London made it known that their egg of choice was an Eggmans. But in 1633 disaster struck, a fire ravaged the bridge, burning 41 houses in all, during the blaze half of the Eggman premises was swept away, along with 90 percent of their prize winning poultry stock. The entire front wall with its egg shaped entrance, along with the ancient wooden egg suspended above it, the symbol of the family for over 100 years, was burned away. The lack of a wall made chicken containment difficult, and the increasingly stressed Robert never thought to construct a new one, so blinkered was he by the success he'd witnessed converted to ash. Eventually the stress killed him, leaving the shop in the hands of his imaginitive but dimwitted son Benedict.
c.1667AD - Benedict Eggman
In 1666 came the great fire of London, it marked another great blow for the crippled Egg shop of Eggman, all of the remaining Hens went mental and ran straight into the blaze. Their unlaid eggs frying inside them. Unable to procure hens, Benedict turned instead to other animals, conducting bizarre experiments to see which, if any, could produce a suitable saleable egg.
First Benedict procured a Turkey, but on taking it home he realised he'd been had, the turkey was dead, bringing it back to the store he obtained another bird, a chicken, a great spark of joy lit in Benedict's heart, but on returning home it was quickly doused as he realised he'd once again taken home a deceased bird. Deciding to take matters into his own hands he captured a pigeon and set about attempting to sell its eggs, after 6 months of this he realised that there just wasn't the market for it, and anyway, the pigeon itself had impaled its head on a curved spike, protruding from the establishments half a roof, dying instantly.
Next, Benedict captured a duck from a pond in Southwark. This, for a week at least, proved a success, but the poor animal proved fierce lonesome for its pond and its weeping kept Benedict awake many a night. Then, one dreadful morning, Benedict came down the half a stairs in his half a house to find the duck had hung itself during the night, joining the pigeon as a gruesome sacrifice on the eggy alter of science. Benedict was greatly moved by the death of the duck, as, having grown up around fowl, he was often closer to them then he was to the majority of humans who entered his life. So, one April morning in 1667 he decided to change tack, purchasing a Badger. Unfortunately, the Badger, however much he was goaded, failed to produce any eggs, so taking a fine blade Benedict proceeded to dissect the beast in search of anything remotely eggy. He failed. The skin he hung on a hook next to the hanging duck and the pigeon. Soon the body of a stoat joined them, also dissected, again no eggs.
At this juncture a man by the name of Roger the Profane came a knocking on the patch of air that used to hold a door, with a bird for sale, it was a Turkey by the name of Finbarr, its price, 3 of the families mystical 'ever-eggs' special Eggman family eggs that never went off, produced by a hen that had lived for 200 years from 1305 to 1505, itself the wonder of its age, its eggs a culinary delight of delights that astounded the world. After this purchase, only two of the prized eggs remained in Eggman's possession. (Though others lay uneaten elsewhere, one in the Sultans palace in Baghdad, one at the bottom of the Atlantic, and another in the year 505340AD, where it had landed in the hands of a sentient star faring squirral after dropping through a Temporal rift. For a time, one of these special eggs was incorporated into the crown jewels, where it lasted for a good 10 years or so before a nasty cleaning accident. Heads literally rolled) It was a staggering price for a turkey, but Benedict was desperate. (Noone knows what became of Roger, or the eggs in his possessions, many works of fiction have been written about this fabled cache of ever-eggs, one of the more well known ones, and a personal favourite is of course by Agatha Christie. In her 'Egg Salad', the Belgium Detective Hercule Poirot relies on his Egg knowledge the solve a string of murders involving omlettes in Siams burgeoning egg culture of the 1920s. Although her theory that the eggs formed the basis of the Thai monarchy is interesting, it has no basis on any historicalogical evidence)
The Turkey was an extraordinary character, living for only a week, it produced only one thing before it died, an orange, as it died it uttered a single sentence "I am the future" but noone, let alone Benedict, has been able to decipher the meaning of that.
The last of Benedict's animals he found as he walked along the quays one morning, there, swimming towards him out of the mid morning mist, coughing like some withered old minister, was what Benedict assumed to be a Walrus. Luring it into his shop with the promise of Haggis, Benedict tied the whiskered beast down and set upon his hind regions for 3 weeks with a mallet. The only thing that emerged from the poor creature was a human hand, a right one, pointing at something forever mysterious. It was only with the intervention of a band of random midnight shoppers that Benedict the eggman was told that it was not in fact a Walrus, but was instead a common household Pig. As thanks for this information Benedict set about preparing an omlette with the two last remaining eggs. Obviously delirious from the 3 weeks of continuous pounding, Benedict accidentally managed to set the bridge on fire yet again as he lit his stove. The resulting fire destroyed the rest of Eggman's Egg shop, and Benedict was left to rebuild.
Cornelius Eggman - c.1856AD
Cornelius Eggman inherited a different, rather ordinary egg shop, in a London much changed. He found he could not exist as a salesman selling eggs alone, so he branched out. Eggman's Eggs, Books, and Bamboo was an unusual establishment to say the least, littered as it was with various inventions this Victorian Eggman devised and sold. However unlikely, Cornelius managed to carve himself a niche market out of the eccentric upper classes that abounded in the London of his era. As such, the great stink of 1856 hit his business rather hard, as the upper classes fled London for the country to escape the stench rising out of the river. Cornelius attempted to solve the problem by thinking empirically, that is, by adding the opposite of each smell to the river, in the hopes of cancelling the odour out. Thus, Owls were added to combat the smell of rotting fish (They flew away), a swimming competition for the boys and girls of Southwark workhouse was organised to eliminate the odor of dead bodies (None of the children could swim, most died, 4 were committed), and eggs were added to overcome the smell of all the poo added to the river by Thomas Crappers new flushing system (Also unsuccessful).
It was all for nought, and the family's eggs supplies were all used up fruitlessly and profitlessly. Thus Cornelious Eggman's life saw the family transition from Egg selling to just selling Books and Bamboo, as well as the occassional reversible hankerchief. Still, for the family, it had been a good run of it.
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