Our anonymous spoof writer has just sent me this spoof after being inspired by some of the Team Anne Boleyn versus Team Catherine of Aragon stuff that has been going on online recently.
It is a bizarre world and I find it staggering that these Tudor queens are often used as an excuse for aggression and very inappropriate behaviour. Thank you to all The Anne Boleyn Files visitors who are normal, friendly people, if not a little obsessed with Tudor history, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now here’s some very tongue-in-cheek fun to brighten up your frantic Friday.
Remember, it’s just a spoof… no Tudor queen was harmed in the writing of this and full respect is given.
Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour faced each other across the ring. Every other member of the court was taking bets on them. Anne was evens, Jane was just behind but poor Catherine was only running at 50-1.
Thomas Cranmer was very uncomfortable. “But I quite like all of them.”
Everyone else stared at him. “How can you like all of them you weirdo? It’s like liking pears, apples and plums,” said Norfolk.
Everyone looked a bit sheepish at that because most of them realised they liked pears, apples and plums. They all turned back to the three spandex clad women in the ring.
Anne ‘the Lutheran Bull’ Boleyn raised her fists in readiness. Catherine ‘the Catholic Matador’ of Aragon did likewise.
“I’m in the mood for a bull fight,” snarled Catherine, “you’re going down, Boleyn.”
Anne Boleyn circled her enemy. “In your dreams, Kate.”
Jane ‘the Wolf Hall Wonder’ Seymour went to join in, her lips curled back in a grimace.
Catherine turned on her. “Wait your turn, Wolfy, this one’s mine.”
Jane backed down while pacing the edge of the ring like a caged….wolf.
The Lutheran Bull was the first to strike.
Thomas Cromwell, in the commentary box, drew in his breath, “and the Lutheran Bull hits the Catholic Matador just below the jaw line. The Matador recovers well and aims for the Bull’s midriff. It must be said ladies and gentlemen that age and weight are against the Matador who has seen better days. SHE MISSES! The Bull moves in and takes advantage with a few body blows.”
The crowd’s money was on the Bull as Anne landed some well placed punches.
Cromwell nearly exploded, “the Wolf Hall Wonder has entered the ring! Ladies and gentlemen this is unprecedented. The Wolf has the Bull round the legs and has grappled her to the ground. I DON’T BELIEVE IT! The Matador has thrown herself on top of them. The three of them are wrestling in the middle of the ring. This is unbelievable.”
As the crowd watched the spectacle with open mouths the women changed tack.
“My father’s better than your father,” Catherine yelled at Anne.
“No he isn’t,” Anne yelled back, “your father smells of fish and anyway, my father has a bigger carriage than your father.”
Jane joined in. ” My brothers are better than your brother,” she spat at Anne.
Anne’s face contorted. “Right, that’s it, you’re dead meat, Wolfy. My brother could beat both your brothers and your friends single handedly with one arm tied behind his back!”
George Boleyn, who was Anne’s manager for the fight, and until then had been concerned that his sister’s gum shield may have fallen out, really wished she would shut up. Thomas and Edward Seymour, Francis Bryan and Nicholas Carew all looked at him and made ‘come on then’ signs at him. George smiled at them and gave a cheery wave before entering the ring and shoving the gum shield back into Anne’s mouth with rather more vigour than he had intended. Anne nearly choked, but regained her composure.
Thomas Boleyn was nearly beside himself. “Sock it to her Anne! Don’t let a Seymour get the better of you. Go for her jugular.”
Anne ‘the Bull’ Boleyn grabbed Jane ‘the Wolf’ Seymour by the throat at exactly the same time as Jane grabbed Catherine ‘the Matador’ by the nose and Catherine grabbed Anne by the ear.
“Ouch”, said all three women at once as they sat in a triangle wincing and glaring at one another.
“Led go of by dose,” Catherine wailed at Jane.
“Only if she lets go of my throat”, croaked Jane.
George Boleyn stepped up to the plate. “I think it would be an absolutely marvellous idea if you all let go on a count of three… one, two, three.”
The ladies all let go and stared expectantly at Henry. All three said at the same time, “choose!”
Henry looked at them all in horror, ” I can’t choose to spend my days with one of you hellcats.”
He gazed lovingly at Mark Smeaton before taking his hand, ” Mark has promised to teach me how to fiddle. We’re off to Gretna Green. Don’t wait up.”