An Homage to Historical Fiction – A Boleyn Spoof
Posted By Claire on March 25, 2011
As we have been discussing representations of Anne Boleyn and also discussing historical fiction recently, one Anne Boleyn Files visitor wrote the following spoof featuring Anne and her brother, George, and poking fun at some of what has been written about them or seen on TV. Please share your thoughts on it.
A Boleyn Spoof
George and Anne were having a nice cosy conversation about the best way to commit adultery without getting caught. George had just come up with the rather ludicrous suggestion that a lover could hide in a marmalade cupboard.
Anne glared at him, “George, I love you dearly, but that’s the most ridiculous suggestion since you advised me to lace Catherine of Aragon’s mead with poison. All it did was send her purple. Clearly the woman has the constitution of an ox.”
George looked chastened, “Well, to be fair, it worked a treat on Wolsey. Everybody blamed it on suicide.”
He took a deep breath, “Seriously though Anne, we’ve got to get you pregnant or else we’ll both be charged with treason and beheaded, because that’s the obvious conclusion to you failing to give the King a son.”
Anne sighed sadly, “Even though no queen consort has ever been executed before, I know you’re right, George. I can just feel it in my waters. Anyway, on a completely different topic, even though I love you and I know you’ll go straight to hell, how are you and Mark Smeaton getting on?”
George looked wistful, “Oh, very well indeed. He’s a lovely little fiddler. Jane doesn’t seem very keen on him though. Having said that, I don’t see very much of Jane nowadays. She seems to spend most of her time hiding behind doors. In fact, on two occasions I’ve accidentally bashed her in the face as I’ve gone to leave a room. Once she actually went spinning off into the privy.”
Anne frowned, “I can see a time when Jane will tell falsehoods about us to the King. Talking of which, George, how would you like to impregnate me?”
George’s face lit up, “Oh rather! I know I fancy Mark, but even so, I must say that suggestion appeals to me. That’s probably because I’m a sexual deviant.”
Anne looked at her brother lovingly. “Thank you, George. All you need do is pretend I’m Mark and we’ll be home and dry. It’s just that I thought if I’m to get pregnant by a third party then it may as well be you. To me that seems perfectly logical, because as you know, I’m not very bright.”
George nodded understandingly, “I know sis, but then neither of us are known for our charm, intelligence and sense. Having said that, everyone around here is a bit daft and forgetful too. Remember when you first came to court and had to introduce me to the King even though he had known me for eight years and played tennis with me regularly? As for me, I’m positively thick. Let’s face it, my favourite pastime is hitting Jane around and seeing if I can throw her down the stairs without breaking anything. You know, like vases and stuff. So of course I would like to give you a child. So what if it’s got two heads and a tail!”
Anne nodded, “In addition to being thick, we are very cruel. Remember when I stole our sister’s baby out of spite. I’m just thankful no one picked up on the fact I tried to sell him to Gypsies. Then there was the time you and I boiled that Priest. Oh, how we did laugh!”
George grinned, “I know you say some cruel things to the Princess Mary sometimes, but I nearly fell out of my puffed up sleeves when you went for her with that pick-axe.”
They both laughed with fond remembrances before Anne became serious. She looked thoughtful and scratched her nose with one of her many fingers. As he always did, George wondered how she didn’t poke an eye out.
“We will go to Hell and back for this baby, George,'”said Anne as she walked meaningfully towards a cupboard in the corner of the room. From it she removed a black pointy hat and placed it on her head.
‘GRYFFINDOR!’ shouted the hat.
“Oh, shut up,” said Anne crossly before starting to speak in a strange language which George thought might be Greek.
After she had stopped speaking, George looked at her in excitement, “Are you pregnant now?”
“No, of course not. What do you think this is, the Immaculate Conception or something? It’s to ensure that our baby only has the one head and that it is perfect in every way.”
George had a few reservations about that. Mainly because his sister’s eyes had turned bright red and she was breathing smoke from both nostrils.
Never one to be deterred, George held his sister in a passionate embrace before taking his leave of her to see if he could find Mark, Francis Weston or a Cocker Spaniel, he wasn’t bothered which. As he opened the door he heard a loud yelp and discovered his wife crumpled up on the floor with a door nob shaped bruise on her forehead. He raised his eyes to heaven, “Not again, Jane,” he said as he pulled her to her feet.
She swayed slightly before coming to her senses, “Spying is the only way I can find out what’s going on around here, because you never tell me anything, George. And while we’re on the subject of you deficiencies, I’ve been asking around and I now know why you’ve never made me pregnant. That’s not the way you’re supposed to do it, George!”
“Really!” said George looking bewildered while blushing frantically, “I didn’t know, honest.”
Jane folded her arms with a look of contempt on her face, “I have no idea why I married into your family.”
“Nor me.” George said mournfully.
She continued as if he hadn’t said anything, “Mary and Anne are both trollops who have disgraced two courts. You have serious sexual problems and should really see a councillor. Your father’s a pimp and your mother takes drugs.”
“Good grief,” said George, “I never knew mother was a drug addict.”
Jane nodded knowingly, “It’s in the next novel. It’s the power of the written word, George.”
“Ah,” said George in sudden understanding, “Is that why I’ve gone from being completely heterosexual to fancying Mark nearly overnight? And is that why you’ve gone from being a pretty young woman to looking like Richard III?”
Jane nodded, which was difficult for her bearing in mind the size of her hump.
“So really Anne’s not a witch, we aren’t going to have a demon baby, you aren’t evil incarnate, I can stop beating you up, father’s not a pimp, and mother isn’t going to become a drug addict. And best still, I can start fancying women again!”
George was very excited at the sudden understanding that they weren’t confined to the pages of a book.
Just then he spotted Mark Smeaton climbing into the marmalade cupboard. George smiled broadly, suddenly remembering with relief that he actually preferred honey.