Angelica, the beautiful daughter of a local monarch, has expressed her gratitude to Sir Ruggiero, a knight-errant of humble origins who recently saved her from certain death by slaying the dragon that was poised to devour her. She has admitted that she had been in a bit of a tight spot and will certainly know who to call if she is ever threatened by a mythical beast again.
‘I’m rather embarrassed, as a kick-ass feminist heroine, to find myself screaming for help outside a dank cave,’ Angelica said. ‘In my defence, though, I was bollock-naked at the time – I had been bound and chained there as a virgin sacrifice, though – actually no, let’s not go there – anyway, my karate skills weren’t going to be much help. So I hate to say it, but I guess it’s just as well a fully armed man just happened to be passing at the time.’
With staggering courage, Ruggiero charged the dragon head-on until his noble steed was forced back by searing tongues of sulphurous flames. He then dismounted, beating away the fire with his shield, until he could close in and ram his lance deep into the heart of the pitiless beast, then sliced off its head with a single blow amid a fearful bellowing that would have shaken the Earth to its very core.
‘He then fell to his knees in front of me and proclaimed himself my humble servant, who lived but to fulfil my every wish. Cringimus maximus,’ said Angelica. ‘I don’t know if he wanted a shag or something, but he definitely seemed to have a bit of a sense of entitlement. And his clothes were absolutely filthy after six months on horseback in the forest, eeew.’
Having warned Ruggiero not to patronise her any further, Angelica commandeered his winged horse to ride back to the palace to reflect on her lucky escape. ‘I suppose I could see if they need any more guards for the garrison if he comes by again,’ she said. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be going – my father will probably want to marry me off to some gormless son of a neighbouring king before too long, so me and the girls are slipping off to Flanders to drink mead and eat minge while we still can.’