THE KNIGHTS OF THE IKEA TABLE

Guinevere 4

Tintagel, Cornwall. The Dark Ages: King Arthur and most of the rest of the Knights of the Round Table are in Newquay for Sir Percival’s stag night. It promises to be one hell of a bash. Only Sir Lancelot, Guinevere and Sir Galahad remain in the castle that is Camelot. Galahad, not a boozer at the best of times, has suffered from insomnia of late and simply couldn’t face attending Percival’s celebrations. And so it is that while the ‘cat’s away the mice do play.’  You see for some little time now Lancelot and Gwen have been conducting a clandestine love affair. Usually it has been an escape to the railway sidings; the deepest corners of the forest and the caves at the back of Poundland yet this day, in a fortress that for all intents and purposes is empty, the lovers consider it safe to stay home. No preying eyes and all that. Yes, today it is upon the Round Table itself where the congruence of desire expresses itself.

Unaware of all this is Sir Galahad once again denied access to dreamland. He rises from his bed chamber and pops downstairs to the kitchen, a peck of goat’s milk in his favourite pewter mug the object of his particular desire.  As he brings the nocturnal thirst quencher to his lips he is suddenly taken aback by an extremely loud crashing sound emanating from the Great Hall.  Plainly something is amiss. Galahad decides to investigate.

For their part, and at the very peak; the very fulfilment of carnal desire and having been going hammer and tong at it for the past hour or so a very naked Gwen and Lancelot both in a state of some considerable shock extract themselves from the tangle of their union. What has happened is that in the heat of passion the pair have managed to break in half the legendary Round Table. It is ruined beyond any repair.

We join the scene as Galahad makes his entry – an entry that causes the lovely Gwen to scurry around the place in an attempt to recover her clothes which lay strewn all about and therefore recapture at least a vestige of modesty. It is with extreme embarrassment, not just about being ‘found out’ but also being caught thus that she is consumed by a cold shudder from her head to the tips of her toes as Galahad wolf whistles her and bellows;

Galahad: “Blimey, I didn’t know you had a dragon tattooed on your bum luv. Nice one! See you kept your socks on Lancelot you old romantic you.”

Lancelot: “You haven’t seen me trousers lying about anywhere have you?”

Galahad: “No mate. What a bloody mess – look at The Round Table it’s buggered beyond belief. Sacrilege I tell you. Christ, it was made out of mahogany especially imported from the Amazonian Rain forests before the embargo on such timber came into to force. You Sir are in shit street. I mean I’ll keep me big gob shut about you shagging his missus but as for the table, well mate you’re going to have to put your hands up for that one I can tell you.  Art will go mental over this you know that.”

Lancelot: “Crikey, I hadn’t taken it all in. I need a plan me old mucker. Any ideas?”

Galahad: “Bolloxed if I have if the truth be told. Down to you old son.”

Guinevere returns from the shadows of the darkest corner of the Great Hall, her decorum and her decency restored.

Gwen: “First of all you can keep your witticisms to yourself and your eyes off my bum Galahad. Secondly, given the plight we now find ourselves in we have but one simple choice. A hasty and less than ideal one yet we must, simply must purchase a new Round Table before King Arthur returns.”

Galahad: “And where ‘dragon girl’ do you propose to make this acquisition at this late stage in the day – all the shops will be shut.”

Gwen: “Make one more mention of my bum and I’ll swing for you.”

Galahad: “Yes please.”

Lancelot: “Shut it Galahad we’ve got some serious thinking to do.”

Gwen: “IKEA sell tables. Let’s get one from them.”

Lancelot: “The closest IKEA is in bloody Bristol. That’s a full three day ride up the A38 then the M5 just to get there let alone getting it back here.”

Galahad: “True. That’s out of the question, Art’s back here early PM tomorrow he said, and he’ll have a zonking hangover so his mood wouldn’t have been that good at the best of times – now this.”

Gwen: “Wuzzocks! Have neither of you heard of the internet. We shop online; pay a little extra and they guarantee next day delivery.”

Lancelot: “Right let’s go for it.”

Galahad: “It was you two ‘going for it that’s got you both in this mess. I’m off to bed.”

With that Galahad leaves hoping for 40 winks. Gwen nips off to get her iPad. Together Lancelot and Gwen review the online catalogue and order the only ‘round’ table IKEA sell. Early the next morning a sign written horse and cart turn up and deliver a giant flat packed table. Gwen and Lancelot have difficulty getting into the package – that is until Lancelot grabs hold of Excalibur from the wall and prizes it apart.

Gwen: “Do you think he’ll notice it’s smaller than the old one and has a smoky reinforced glass top?”

Lancelot: “Haven’t got a clue luv. It’s these instructions that have left me somewhat bolloxed. I can’t make head or tail of them.”

After an hour or so of struggling the new Round Table is complete. Lancelot, sweating his cods off and with hands proudly on hips notes it is extravagantly smaller than the original.

Lancelot: “Bloody hell Gwen didn’t you check the measurements before you ordered. He’s bound to notice. It’s more bull’s-eye than dartboard. From the gallery it looks like a bloody foot stool.”

Gwen: “Not really they were all in metric and you know I can’t get me head around that. What we going to do? We need a magician to sort this out.”

In unison they bawl: “MERLIN!”

Somewhere deep in the forest, an owl sat serenely upon his shoulder an old wizard with a crooked walking stick awakens.

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51 thoughts on “THE KNIGHTS OF THE IKEA TABLE

  1. A wondrous tale of fair Camelot methinks. When Arthur returns and notices the small table they can just say … Ah, methinks Sire that ye should have gone to spec-savers. Anyway Merlin should sort it out right enough.

    1. Your opening gambit sounded like my missus talking about me behind my back! I have yet to complete the construction of any IKEA item without having several bits left over.

    1. Many years ago we got told off in IKEA for walking about the shop in the ‘wrong’ direction. They told us to follow the arrows…my riposte, ‘What arrows, thought this shop was a safe environment’. Ms Monotone looked confused and largely ignored me after that!

      1. I am going to risk posting it…Shirl just reminded me to replace the word ‘bollocks’ with ‘botheration’ as it’s meant to be for kids…I make one mistakes and she edits me! So unfair.

      2. It is so hot here today I’m thinking of moving into the fridge. Shirl’s suntrap bit in the corner of the garden is reading 41 degrees! Keep the hamsters inside this weather I reckon.

      1. Still dying a little from the heat here…can’t cope. A son who prefers summer to winter trying to work in the boiling attic doesn’t help either!

  2. Never have I enjoyed the romping s in Camelot more than finding this jewel that gets down into the nitty gritty of what went on at the round table! Cheers and Bravo Mike, and how generous of you to give Ikea a plug! 🙂

    1. I hate IKEA with a vengeance…as I mentioned to another in this thread, I/we were once told in no uncertain terms that we had to follow the arrows around the store. Often I have wondered if it would have been like Agincourt had we gone the chosen route! Plus, of course, I cannot assemble things they sell.

      1. Never been to the Ikea but I like browsing their catalog ! This is a great write , thoroughly entertained. Back to Ikea, I doubt their round tables are sturdy enough for the goings on between Gwen and Lance. Love that visual!

      2. True enough, yet with Arthur returning soon I expect it will be back to the railway sidings (did I get that from a Peter Gabriel song? Rings a bell thinking about it) for our covert lovers.

  3. Ikea!!!

    Who would have thunk a lady of such an era, had a dragon tattoo. Must be the Illuminati again. Or ikea. Ikea is the way of the future Mike Steeden. Do you prefer antique stores then?

    1. Tattoo’s (although they weren’t called tattoo’s until the 18th century) were even applied to the bodies of Iron Age Britons I understand…which makes me wonder if very big people back then had a mammoth tattoo. Not sure about IKEA. Just the one visit and I didn’t like it; don’t like flat pack things as they cause me stress. I tend to buy things where I spot them…charity shops are great for pictures. I even took a photo of 2 things I got for 50 pence from a charity shop recently but am not sure how to get a snap into this thread…you see you take on the pictures would be something I’d value…I shall try to copy and paste but likely it won’t work!
      ….didn’t work!

      1. What were they called before tattoo’s?

        IKEA is indeed a strange place. Easy to dislike. I see it as a theme park though, same with most malls, city strips etc. I haven’t yet the courage to see how long I can get away with sleeping in one of the showroom beds for, but that is one of my goals in life.

        I like charity shops too.

    1. At least I was honest with Shirl when we got together all those years ago. I am hopelessly impractical, indeed it bores me rigid and causes stress; she has that gift, yet I shop for food and cook; she can’t cook at all. Seems to work thankfully.

      1. Wash up as I go along…haven’t worked out how to ‘start’ the dishwasher thing…looks boring to me, too many buttons to have to consign to memory.

      2. When she is away she allows me one setting, even draws a picture of it to help. First go at this years back she didn’t explain where the liquid stuff had to go (3 little compartments in a draw. Why?). Good luck smiled, the lady next door took charge of things!

      3. Having, as I do, a brain that doesn’t function re practical things really doesn’t help either. Maybe it’s a left handed thing yet even now in my 111 year I still cannot put a key in a door and remember which way opens it, or locks it. Yet cooking, devoid of boring recipe books I have no trouble with at all.

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