Myths Of Great Britain.

[BIAD]

Before the days of the sensation-yearning tabloids, there was a chap in Britain who -I'm sure, would be in the running to being the patron saint
of these dubious mediums of information. Geoffrey of Monmouth shaped the history of Great Britain and to some extent, assured the myths
and legends would survive into the future.

Geoff was big on King Arthur and his spell-wielding magician Merlin, yet his major work 'The Historia Regum Britanniae or The History of the
Kings of Britain offers other tales of kingly bare-thighed men who sought ownership of the little island just off the European coast. One of these
shaven-chested heroes was Brutus of Troy, the accepted first King of Britain.

Brutus came over to a known land called Albion with his Trojan warriors after a bit of a skit with some Gauls and arriving at the mouth of the
River Dart in what would become Devon on the south coast of England, he and his men found someone waiting for them at the estuary.

To say there were giants in the earth then would be an understatement, because as Brutus docked his ship at a place that would become
known at Totnes, he saw a huge figure called Goemagot stood alongside his tree-high companions wondering who these illegal immigrants
were.
These gargantuans were the 'Alebion' a race of people who never knew the word 'ladder' and the supposed descendants of Poseidon.

Doing what men do in written narratives of yore, Brutus, the Trojans and Goemagot's men went at it. After a while and after some blood was
spilled, the Giants took to the moors in hiding and waited for what their leader wanted them to do next. Strangely, Goemagot was taken captive
and Brutus' men tended his injuries, maybe these little foreigners weren't so bad after all?

But Brutus of Troy had a plan and when Goemagot's wounds had healed and he was fit enough, the man who'd accidently killed his parents
when he was younger proposed to the Giant of Albion that he should take part in a wrestling match.

With Goemagot's brethren cajoled back from the wilds of Dartmoor to witness the dust-up, Brutus delegated his strongest kinsman -Cornelius,
to grapple the massive colossus to the ground. Even though the WWL hadn't been invented yet, Cornelius was an experienced wrestler and
donned his leotard in readiness.



Probably with some background music similar to when Kirk fought Spock on the planet Vulcan, Goemagot was finally tossed from the cliffs
at Plymouth Hoe and the die was set for how Britain was born. The Giant's body was destroyed on the rocks below, his blood turning the sea
red and the Cornish seagulls were happy that wouldn't need to venture far for their supper. The remaining Alebion put on their best Nikes
and fled back to the wildness of Dartmoor and Cornwall, where they were left in peace for many years.



Feeling a little chuffed with himself, Brutus is said to have renamed the land of rain and dodgy Prime Ministers to Bruti, a place where Trojans
would exchange their swords for umbrellas.