This is a quite, frivolous, Friday Fictioneers entry. Thanks to John Nixon for the photo.
As the court jester got older, he realised his frolics were assinine. He’d only gotten into the performing arts to get girls, but the pointy hat was a real turn-off. He’d have seen more action as a eunuch in Cleopatra’s service with the additional bonus of as ass’s milk as he could drink.
In an effort to regain his self-respect, he wrote a satirical monologue about Anglo-Castilian relations. The king was, presciently, unamused. The jester almost managed to keep his head by improvising a comical ditty on the harpsichord but came unstuck when he couldn’t find a rhyme for ‘merkin’.