Wednesday, 18 February 2009

Giant Bolster

I'm tellin' an old tale now, old as hills and ancient as trees. It's about a giant who roamed these parts long before you or I ever spoke of double-glazing, ring tones or the property market.

He was gruff as the gales that batter the Land's End peninsular and vicious with it. He wasn't too nice to his wife either and fell in love with the chaste St Agnes, patron saint of Celtic Cornwall. 

Being a nun she just wasn't into the whole romance thing, especially with a married giant. But Bolster continued to woo her with dead cows and by blowing the morning mists away.
Be glad you can't smell how bad his breath is...enough to make birds drop out of the sky, dead, for miles around...

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