When the girl was brought to him, the king took her to a room in which there was a small spinning-wheel and a lot of straw.

"Now", said the king, "set to work and if by tomorrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die." Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone.

So there sat the poor craftsman's daughter, and for the life of her she did not know what to do. She grew more and more frightened for her life because of the cruel and avaricious king's threats, so much so that she started to weep in earnest.





All at once the door opened and in came a little man.

"Good evening", said the little manikin, "O young lady why are you crying so?". Like he didn't know, the smarmy little bollocks.

"Alas", said the girl, "I have all this straw to spin into gold and I do not know how to do it."

"Now there's a thing", said the man, stroking his whiskers, "I can do it for you if you will let me juggle your jugs, so to speak".

"Deal", said the girl, since she wanted to live and wisely reckoned a grope from a ginger midget was worth it.

So once the manikin had copped a feel, he set to work. Whirr, whirr, whirr, three turns, and the reel was full, then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold.





The sun had hardly risen when the king was knocking and kicking on the door, not a wise idea when you fanny round the place in crimson tights and no boots.

When the door had opened and he limped in and saw the gold, he was astonished and delighted but, being a greedy sadistic megalomaniac, he only wanted more. So he dumped the girl in a room with even more straw and commanded her to get goldifying if she valued her life.

The girl knew not how to help herself, and was again weeping and wringing her hands when the door opened again, and the little man appeared. Again he offered to spin the straw into gold if she would give him a good five minutes with the jubblies. She agreed and once he had gotten himself into a right old agitated state, again he began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.





The king rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still the desirous dandy demanded more, more, more! This time he locked the girl in a room with more straw than ever before and decided to sweeten the deal. If she failed to turn all this straw into gold by morning then she would be fed to the hounds, but if she succeeded - why then she would be his wife.

The girl rejoiced at this - oh what a catch - and anxiously waited on her little ginger groper. This time the manikin upped the ante - he was no longer interested in just the jubblies and would only sit at the wheel if she agreed to bounce his bones in the royal bed once she had become queen.

"In for a penny, in for a pound", thought the girl and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more spun the straw into gold.





When the king came in the next morning, he again rejoiced and took her in marriage and the pretty craftsman's daughter became a queen. Some questioned how she could marry such a hideous cross-dressing beast, but they had their tongues immediately put out before their negative vibes could spoil the atmos.

Now it happened that one morning the king had minced off to frolic round the countryside clad in a splendid pair of semi opaque tights which were soft and velvety and made his head spin and he put to death anyone caught staring at him in a non-positive way. This left the queen lying in bed, wondering about the manner in which she would spend another golden sheaf when

POOF

The little manikin appeared at the bottom of the bed.

"Staaaaand and deliver", said the little man, and he made little crude pelvic thrusts to go with the "Whoa whoa whoa" parts of the song.

"No", said the queen, "anything but that!" for the thought of his little ginger twanger was making her queasy. With that, she began to lament and cry so that the manikin pitied her.

"I will give you three days", said he, "and if by that time you have not found out my name, then there shall be foxy fellatio and florid fondlings galore."





So the queen spent a sleepless night thinking about the little man, and trying not to think about his little man. The sun had hardly risen when POOF - he again appeared.

"You are whiskery, you have a bizarre sense of humour and you have an accent most quaint. Are you Patrick McCabe?"

"No!", said the little man, "Two days left!", and with another POOF, he was gone.

On the second day, he reappeared and the queen had another go.

"You are stubby of stature, mysterious of origin and you poof about the place. Are you Tom Cruise?"

"No!", said the little man, "One day left!" and with a POOF, he was gone.





The desperate queen then resorted to sending a messenger out into the countryside. As luck would have it, he happened to be spying on a little man as he frolicked round a campfire in the middle of the night. As he danced, he sang:


They'll ne'er win my little game
And I'll schtup the queen at dawn
For man nor beast can know my name
is Rumpy Pumpy Vaughan!


You may imagine how glad the queen was when she heard the news. Go on, give it a go.

So when next morning the little man came in, and asked "Now queen with that smooth, smooth peaches and cream buttock, what is my name?"

And at first the queen looked forlorn and pensive and said "It is of no use for I shall never guess your name and it seems as if I have no option but to engage in Rumpy...Pumpy...Vaughan!"





"The devil has told you that! The devil has told you that!" cried the little frustrated man, and in his anger he drove his foot through the floorboards.

"That's the only wood getting some action today round here", laughed the queen as the little man was beaten by the guards, buggered by the king and barbecued by the cook.