The Flamingo’s Courtly Call
When the ambassador of Blushmirage visited the Potatolord
In spud-bound halls where tubers reign,
A flamingo strode through golden grain—
His velvet cloak, a crimson tide,
With noble poise and stately stride.
The Potatolord, enthroned in starch,
His crown aglow beneath the arch
Of golden spires and tater towers,
Held court amid the root-born flowers.
“Your plumage gleams,” the monarch said,
“Like sunrise on a buttered bread.
What brings thee here, oh feathered knight,
To lands of mash and royal rite?”
He bowed his neck, a curving plume,
“From lands of salt and seaside bloom,
I seek alliance, trade, and lore—
A pact of peace from shore to spore.”
They dined on chips and gravy dreams,
And danced beneath the moonlit beams.
The flamingo twirled, the spud did sway,
And treaties bloomed in mashed array.
Then Potatolord44, a sprout so bold,
With youthful eyes and skin of gold,
Stepped forth to learn the courtly art,
A tender spud with noble heart.
He watched the pact of wing and root,
And pledged his voice to fair pursuit.
Thus future reign was gently sown,
In mashed domains where peace had grown.
So let it be in tales retold:
The day pink grace met russet gold.
Where root and wing in court did blend,
And flamingo kissed the spud-shaped friend.
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Part 2
Then Potatolord44, a sprout so keen,
Rolled in the court with a cheeky sheen.
“Oi, guv’nor Spud!” he cried with glee,
“Got mash for the masses, chips for free!”
The flamingo bowed with noble grace,
But a grin spread wide on his feathered face.
“Cor blimey lad, you’ve got the knack.
Pie and mash, and a crisp sarnie snack!”
The court erupted, spuds did cheer,
For youthful slang rang loud and clear.
And so the pact of wing and root
Was sealed with banter, bold and cute.
Chronicle of the Great Wing‑Root Alliance
In the Year of the Overcooked Chip, when the sky resembled gravy spilt upon a napkin, the Magpies descended in a flurry of caws, intent on pilfering every shiny fork in the kingdom.
The flamingos, proud in their velvet trousers and ruffled collars, flapped furiously but found themselves outnumbered. The potatoes, meanwhile, rolled in circles, muttering about starch reserves and the price of mash.
It was Potatolord42, armed with nothing but a sack of boiled jackets and a suspiciously squeaky trumpet, who cried:
“Oi, feathered friends! Let us unite our roots and wings, else the spoons be lost forever!”
Thus began the Wing‑Root Alliance:
- Flamingos formed aerial squadrons, swooping with beaks sharpened like chip‑cutters.
- Potatoes launched themselves from trebuchets, bouncing gloriously into magpie ranks.
- Together they invented the Mashed‑Wing Maneuver, wherein flamingos dropped potatoes from the sky, creating sticky traps that grounded the birds mid‑caw.
The battle was ended when a giant pie was launched from the trebuchet exploding in pink custard and confusing everyone.
The magpies, confused by this culinary‑avian and custard onslaught, retreated to the hedgerows, clutching only a single teaspoon and a bewildered scarecrow.
Victory was declared by unanimous cheer: flamingos danced in mashed potato, potatoes wore feathered hats, and the Royal Ladle was restored to its gravy throne.
Thus the Chronicle records:
- Flamingos and potatoes, once odd allies, became the stuff of legend.
- Magpies are now banned from all chip‑shops within the kingdom.
- Potatolord42 was promoted to “Commander of Winged Root Operations and Keeper of the Trumpet.”
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