perfidy

Alright, everybody on the floor. I'm hijacking this blog and flying it to Cuba!

Can't get enough of that Harry Potter? Me neither! The Guardian this week sponsored a contest for readers to re-write a certain crucial scene from the most recent Harry Potter book in the styles of other famous authors. The two winners I can identify are damned hoots!

Chaucer

"At Hogwarte's, schoole of wizardrye,
Unfoldeth drede folle tragedie!
Yonge Ron Weasleye, and classmayt Pottyr:
Fallen preye to 'tvyle rottyr,
Who, throughoute Harry's sadde lyfe,
Hath been the source of muche stryfe;
Hys parente's lyves, rendyred shorte,
By naughtie manne: Voldemorte!

Pottyr and freynd, in't towyr trapp'd,
At mercie of thyss eevil ratte!
What woe! What payn! Unluckiness!
To looke upon poor boye's dystresse.
"Fore all thysse tyme, my plans you've foyled,
Designs divertyd, and schemes despoyled!"
So began the Dark Lorde's awfolle gloatyng,
And standarde badde guy showéboatynge,
"But not todaye, you little shytte!
Payn's true meanynge, thou shalt wytte!"

And then it sort of goes on from there in the same vein and the whole thing is pretty brilliant. As is, by the way, the Irvine Welsh:

The sweat wis lashing oafay Ron; he wis tremblin. Ah wis jist sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, focusing on ma new Choaclit Frog jizz mag, tryin no tae notice the cunt. He wis bringing me doon. Ah tried to keep ma attention oan Wendolin the Weird, who wis takin oaf her bikini toap.

- Potts. Ah've goat tae see the Professor, the boy Weasley gasped, shaking his heid.

Ah wanted the radge tae jist fuck oaf ootay ma specs, tae go oan his ain and jist leave us wi wee Wendolin. Oan the ither hand, ah'd be needin a Cheerin Charm n aw before long, n if that cunt went n scored he'd haud oot oan us, the sick basturt.

Doonin the Great Hall, some a they shitey wee Slytherins were hingin aboot.

- Square go, then, speccy cunt! C'moan ya crappin basturts! one ay thum shouted.

- Fuck oaf, ya plukey-faced wee pureblood! Ron snarled as we piled up the spiral staircase wi the wee Slytherin cunts flinging hexes eftir us.

Ah wisnae chuffed at Ron. - Fuckssake, ya fuckin radge. That wis wee Draco - he hings aboot wi they Death Eatin casuals frae Hogsmeade, ah sais

- Harry, the ginger fucker snaps, clenchin his wand tightly - ah want tae see the Professor n ah dinnae give a fuck aboot any cunt or anything else. Goat that?

'The Professor' wis Albus Dumbledore, a teacher whae supplied the Hogwarts scheme. Ah preferred tae score ma tricks fi Albie or his sidekick McGonagall rather than Snape and the Slytherin mob. Better gear, usually.

Pure gold, thanks to the beautiful and talented Gary Farber.