The introduction: A proud Irishman and a stupid, wise council
1st December 1418 Nantes, at duke Jean VI le Sage's castle (in his finest living room if you want to know) :
- Bonjour my friend, what did you sey yorr neem wazz? The Grand Duke asked.
In front of him stood a proud Irishman, though his tiny bodymass and cheap peasant clothes made him look like anyone else, and not “someone”. But the fact was that behind this shelter one of the greatest and most logic minds could be found.
- I’m Kennedy Brockhan, sir!
- So, you zaid zir to me, ahh? You know, here in Bretagne we hate the anglaise, hate, hat, hate! Get it?
- I… think so, sir!
- So, never speak this dirti languish to me agyn, ok? Ant especially not thiz sir thingy, got it?
- Yes, si..! Sorry, Monsieur
- Ant remember, in the contuniation, we’ll spick francais, got it? Ant don’t call me monsieur ok? Rateor (rather) Grand Duc.
- I see, Grand Duc.
After this short conversation they started speaking French with some Gaelic influence. To understand a shit about what they said I, in my blood, sweat and tears, have created the “Francais-Gaelic = English-omatic ™”. So here-after the dialogues will be shown in English even though they are spoken in French or Gaelic. Cool huh? And there is also a positive side effect, we’ll get rid of Duke Jean le Sage's bad English!
- So what do you want me, monsieur Brockhan?
- Gand Duke, I’ve left my family, my home, my birthplace Eire just to go to France. Just like you I can’t stand the English and the fact that they have gained French territory makes me mad! I want your co-operation for an English-free France. Together with Eire, Scotland and what is left of France we shall drive the English out of France and finally crush ‘em.
- (Wow somebody have had a weird growth) Emm... I don’t like the English and just like you I want them out of France but there is just one thing I have to tell you. For a month ago I had a bad dream about the English conquering and slaughtering their way to the throne of France and an idea popped up in my mind. What if Brittany would, just temporary, ally itself with England, take some French territory then backstab and attack the English with help from the gained territories.
- I, I thought you were against the English, completely against the English. Now you’ve created a secret alliance with them. You, you… scumbag!
- (I were right, he really HAD a weird growth) NOW YOU SHUT UP ASSHOLE! DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE TALKING TO? THE GRAND DUKE OF BRITANNY. I HAVE THE POWER TO ARCEBUSE YOU TO HELL SO BACK OFF!! As I were saying before, the grand duke gently continued, it’s just temporary and necessary to our survival.
- Buhuhuhu, the Irish sobbed.
- Sorry, it was not my intention to make you sad. I’m so sorry.
- Buhuhu, he continued, mummy, I want to see mummy, leave me alone! I want to se my mummy!
- Damn pathetic loser, go to hell!
And the Grand Duke of Bretagne left his livingroom leaving a sad Irishman crying….
1 January 1419
In duke Jean le Sage's meeting room in his castle in Nantes, a wise council have just had a crise meeting. Of course they spoke francais with some gaelic influence and once again I’ll have to turn on my “Francais-Gaelic = English-omatic™”:
- Welcome to the meeting, Duke Jean le Sage started, we have this crise meeting because of changed plans. Our Irishman has decided to go back home and we are left here without anyone to help us ruling the duchy. We all know that we can’t take the English nor the French without a mastermind. It is with great sorrow that I send this mastermind to Irishman home. So my question to you, wise council, is the following: Who the heck is now going to help us? We’ve got 30 thousands angry civilians complaining about war exhaustion, an army of not more than ten thousand soldiers and a crappy budget. Who do you suggest Wise Council?
The room was in complete silence, in this Wise Council ten members were brainstorming. Now you may wonder, if they were so wise, why didn’t they then help their duke? Now, even though they were elders and very experienced their IQ’s did not always exceed 50. So that anyone in the council would help to rule the duchy was completely excluded. But something very weird happened. Suddenly Jacques Côme, a new member of the council stood up and said to his grand duke:
- I can assist you, I can help you out of all misery, war exhaustion and calm down the civilians!
If I told you that there were more silence in the room before, I was wrong. The very complete silence made this fool’s cheeks tomato-red. After not more than four seconds the room practically exploded in laughter and this Jacques-fool silently sat down with all his face in blood-red colour. That was just AWKWARD!
- So I guess there is no other option than to surrender, without any form of IQ-ness Brittany will be lost. Or have you find out anything, Wise Master, chief of the Wise Council?
- Well, you know these small choko-biscuits, they come in these big packs at half the price! I tell you they are so good!
- I’m talking about the Irishman problem
- Oh, I must have felt asleep sorry.
- Damn you’re hopeless! All of you are so pathetic! Leave me alone!
In the fear of the dukes outrage the Wise Council fled out of the room and duke Jean le Sage sat down in his armchair and felt sad.
*Knaaar* went the door, and opened.
- What do you want me now, mumbled the duke and turned around his armchair. In front of him stood a proud Irishman.
- Hey, I’m Kennedy Brockhan – at your service Grand Duke of Britanny!
- Kennedy, what pleisure, smiled the duke, You know, I’m so sorry for my outbreak last time we saw each other. So you are goin to stay, arent’ you?
- Yep sir!
- And please, don’t call me sir…
In the forthcoming hours they conversed all about how they would rule the duchy, militairy and economic strategies and all that. They would become very good friends.
To be continued…