Saturday, February 28, 2009
A Fool and his Money
The Morris dancer scowled. His black face was painted in traditional fashion to prevent the people he begged from guessing his identity. Dancing was one thing, after all, and begging was generally rewarded with a free dinner in prison. He banged Jasfoup on the head with an inflated bladder. “Tuppence?” he said. “This isn’t 1930.”
“Indeed not.” Jasfoup fished out a couple of pound coins from his purse. “I saw you dancing the ‘Queen of Fulsome’s Jig’,” he said, “but from what tradition were the handkerchief movements?”
“From the village of make-it-up-as-you-go-along,” said the dancer. Thanks for the beer token.