I cannot tell you how long Snotting on ye Wold has existed, ( the estate agent was closed so I couldn't see the deeds) but it been around for a looooooooong time!. By 1066 it was a busy township and hub of industry. 'Snotters', as it is locally known, was ruled over by Sir Cedric Chlamydia Tiberius Wellstacked, a kindly man much loved by the people.When times were hard and they often were, Sir Cedric's beautiful wife, Lady Guinevere, would seek donations from the local land owners to help the less fortunate peasants.England was a green and pleasant land, the sun shone every day and everyone was happy.Oh, there were cut throats and bandits but they always had a cheeky smile as they went about their business and so they were tolerated.Rich merchants would travel with ludicrously fat purses in the hope they would be robbed, each hoping to claim the greatest amount lost, when they gathered at the Itchinknob Tavern, situated in the village of London.However, things were about to change....on the 26th September a Frenchman called William and a few thousand soldiers, all called Norman, landed at Pevensey. After a day building sand castles, riding donkeys and eating ice-cream they kicked the crap out of the English army, killed King Harold and occupied the country.These events caused a shift in meteorological conditions and England became grey and wet. ( a condition that prevails to this day ) The new regime set about building castles, imposing taxes, seizing the best land, raising taxes, sleeping with brides on their wedding night and adding taxes on top of taxes for added value. The people of 'Snotters' were somewhat 'irked' by these goings on and instigated a rebellion.Led by Sir Cedrick they withheld taxes and wrote rude slogans on walls.William sent his best 'diplomat' Sir Gisbert Bumsmear to negotiate a settlement. In keeping with tradition, negotiations were conducted on horseback during a stag hunt. Unfortunately Sir Cedrick was killed in a most unfortunate 'hunting accident' when he fell from his horse with a loaded crossbow and shot himself in the back seven times. No one had reason to doubt this as sworn statements were submitted by Sir Gisbert and his six men at arms. Overcome with remorse, Sir Gisbert moved into Wellstacked Manor and assumed the role of High Lord Protector of Snotting on ye Wold and erstwhile suitor for the hand of Lady Guinevere. 'Snotters' fell in line with the rest of the country and everybody was miserable, even the French.The incessant rain was too much to bare, by 1166 all the French nobles ( well their descendants obviously) had returned to France, leaving their army and life size cardboard cut outs of themselves to rule in their stead. Once more the specter of discontent hovered over Snotting on ye Wold...... Here our story begins, on a grey, damp morning much like any other. Neiwil Stoutfellow rose from his bed, careful not to disturb the buxom, redheaded stranger beside him. Throwing open the window he stood looking out on the still sleeping town, as he shook the ale induced mist from his brain, he urinated into the street below. Norman, one of the towns guards, standing beneath the window, looked heavenwards, shook his head and moved off along the street muttering to himself. Neiwil dressed and was about to go downstairs when he heard a yelp! followed by a thud! then,with the crashing of tiles and splintering of timber, the bed chamber was filled with dust.........as the dust settled Neiwil saw a man, spread eagled on the bed, among the debris of what had been his roof, with what appeared to be birds wings were his arms should be. "Who the hell are you"? Neiwil demanded. The recumbent figure sat up, much to the relief of the buxom redhead, shook the dust from his hair an announced " I am Threadbolt 'Birdman' Taylor, at your service". Neiwil shook his head, "Birdbrain's more like it.....Threadbolt? what sort of name is that?, you're not..... FRENCH are you?".