During my school workshops I mention an early attempt I made at writing a children’s book – a comedy fantasy novel called KENTUCKY FRIED FAIRY. I’ve mentioned it on the blog a few times, and if you do a search for the title you’ll even find a few sample chapters to download and read.
Today, though, I thought I’d give you a glimpse into where the book’s title comes from. You’ll find the answer – along with a fairly detailed description of the process – somewhere in the extract below.
There is very little to compare to the many and varied sights, sounds and smells of market day in Upper Stumm, as Ben and Claire are only just discovering. Before we get to those, however, I feel a quick geography lesson is in order.
Hobley’s Square, where the children are now, is situated slap bang in the middle of Upper Stumm. Upper Stumm is by far the larger of the two boroughs which make up the City of Stumm, the other borough being Middle Stumm. No-one can recall what happened to Lower Stumm, but after several decades of arguing about it, historians agreed that presumably it must have existed at some point or another, and to leave it at that.
Stumm itself is the largest – and, indeed, only – city in the land of Volgorthia. Volgorthia in turn is one of the three biggest countries in the whole of Sub-Divan, which, as if you didn’t know, is a vast and expansive world only accessible via a few portals scattered across a variety of dimensions.
Those wishing to discover the exact location of these dimensional doorways are invited to turn to page two hundred and eighty seven of It’s a Bit Like a Big Banana, Really, where Brunt Thrushtap of Ing has helpfully provided a most informative and detailed fold out map.
Although one of Upper Stumm’s busiest locations, Hobley’s Square only truly comes alive on market day, which takes place twice a month and which, despite the name, can often last for anything up to a fortnight.
During this period the expansive square is crammed to bursting point with salesman, traders, and wave after relentless wave of fanatical bargain-spotters. On each market day morning the more fanciful traders set up quaint little thatched roof stalls from which they sell their wares. Inevitably, these are torn down by the fervent masses of over-zealous shoppers some five minutes later, but it’s the thought that counts.
The produce on sale at Stumm market ranges from the ordinary to the outrageously elaborate. It is not unusual for one trader to be selling small nick nacks made from his own rotten teeth, while the next trader along is advertising the wide range of magical spells and powerful elixirs he has available. Obviously in this instance the real bargain would be the scabby tooth sculpture, as everyone knows there’s no such thing as magic.
Unless you’re talking about fairy magic, of course, which is a different matter entirely. It’s powerful stuff, fairy magic, and not something to be meddled with lightly. There are a range of fairy products available at Stumm market, one of which can be found in no other country in all of Sub-Divan.
There’s an old saying that suggests that every time someone says, “I don’t believe in fairies,” a fairy dies. This is nonsense. While it may hurt their feelings a little, saying you don’t believe in fairies will not directly bring about a fairy’s death.
Snatching one from the air, coating it in flour, egg and breadcrumbs, then plunging it into boiling oil for three to four minutes, on the other hand, almost certainly will.
It was a uniquely Volgorthian delicacy, rumoured to have been conjured up in the castle kitchens by Lord Volgorth himself during a particularly voracious attack of the midnight munchies. Soon the recipe spread far and wide, until all across the land, from Ingle to Shum, everyone was hungrily munching on the dish Lord Volgorth had dubbed: “Kentucky Fried Fairy”.
Before long, Kentucky Fried Fairy had become the unofficial national dish of Volgorthia, quickly overtaking the official national dish of Stewed Scum Slug in the popularity stakes. These days, no matter where you are in the country, no matter what time of day or night it is, somewhere nearby there’ll be someone merrily plunging fairies into scalding oil and serving them up with fried sticks of potato and little soggy napkins which smell faintly of lemons.
Make no mistake, they have one hell of a time of it in Volgorthia, fairies.
