GOBLINS AND GOATS

GOBLINS AND GOATS   I’m a goblin, though I’ll also answer to brownie, boggart or even bwcan [if you’re Welsh]. If I was about ten times my present bulk I wouldn’t object to troll – after all trolls are biologically identical, though much larger, an example, of course, of environmental adaptation. Like your pygmies, in reverse. Call me any of these, but for pity’s sake, say it plain – please, please eschew any of those prissy politically-correct phrases so beloved of humanity these days. I am NOT a ‘differently-bodied elf’ nor am I an ‘emotionally-challenged gnome’ They are both different species entirely. For clarity’s sake I suppose I must add that most species in Faerie are related, albeit sometimes quite distantly, and that not a little inter-specific mating happens, though not all offspring are viable. You should also know that goblins are vegetarians – not vegans since we are inordinately fond of milk and cheese. But no meat whatsoever.   Enough. I don’t suppose you want a complete description of the phylogeny or mating habits of the denizens of Faerie, and, indeed, such is not my intention. Just enough for you make sense of the rest of this little rant.   For rant it is: I intend to expose once and for all the gross calumny enshrined in that odious and error-strewn tale called “The Three Billy Goats Gruff” I was reminded, not for the first time, of this packet of misinformation during a pleasant moment of post-coital relaxation with a lonely but amorous shepherdess. The telling of the tale quite spoilt my mood and put paid to any resumption of our dalliance.   Let us examine – and correct – the tale in detail.   The story begins with a troll under a bridge listening to goats ‘trip-trapping’ overhead. Oh come on! If it’s ‘trip-trapping’ it must be a wooden bridge – probably a small rustic plank-and-pole over a stream. If it was stone the sound would be ‘click-clacking’ wouldn’t it? If metal it would be ‘clink-clanking’. So it was wood, and likely small [else you’d hear very little] – which, moreover, means that IT COULD NOT POSSIBLY BE A TROLL. I can tell you, before you try to argue, that it was in fact a dire hobgoblin, a distant cousin of mine. So that’s the first major error.   The goblin’s query as to who was trip-trapping over his bridge rings true; however, as does the fact that he lets the Little Billy Goat Gruff, and later the Middle-Sized Billy Goat Gruff, cross the bridge without molestation. His confrontation with the Big Billy Goat Gruff was a grave mistake on the goat’s part, since I can assure you that goblins are much faster than Billy Goats Gruff of any size, and that his butt remained unbutted … and in any case all goblins are very strong swimmers and would not possibly drown in a shallow stream.   So if he didn’t expect, or want, the Big Billy Goat Gruff to eat [and remember goblins are vegetarian] just what did he eagerly anticipate?   Why … a Nanny Goat Mild of course.   Yes, he was so looking forward to an encounter with a warm compliant Nanny Goat Mild, which he would tenderly milk with gentle fingers – a process they both relished: he for the milk [and subsequently cheese] he would later enjoy, and she for his loving ministrations. Now, I am afraid I’m going to shock you just a little, because the milking process stimulated not only his appetite but other instincts too. In short, his arousal was both prominent and urgent, and since goblins are not given to procrastination he promptly suits his actions to his urges and consummates the union. Now don’t look like that! Such couplings have occurred since time immemorial and are mutually beneficial and pleasurable – especially to the Nanny Goat Mild [after all, Billy Goats Gruff, though invariably randy, are all one-minute-wonders]. Goblins are considerate and vigorous lovers.   What of the progeny, you ask? What monstrosities could result from such an unnatural act? Ah, but your assumptions are wrong [again] … have you not heard of the lithe and happy creatures, who romp and revel in the depths of our woods, replete with handsome goblin physique from the waist up, and with dainty goat’s hips, furry legs and agile feet?   Still don’t know? Well, these wonderful beings are none other than satyrs, beloved of nymphs [and not a few amorous country wenches]. Hardly monsters in anyone’s book! Whatever you think – not that I care too much – I shall continue to look kindly [and lustfully] upon my lovely furry inamoratas and take pride in my robust and energetic children.   After all, who knows which goblin’s offspring Will be the Second Coming Of The Great God Pan?