King Flaxen 'The Addled'

Breaking news from the spa town of Tipton (incorporating Dudley West and Smethwick North). Today, it can be revealed that the tomb of the 'Mad Saxon' 10th-century king of Tipton (incorporating Halesowen and Brierley Hill) has been unearthed on the site of an ancient midden pit. King Flaxen (for it is none other), also known as 'Flaxen the Addled', ruled his mighty kingdom by a combination of sage administration, sound fiscal policy and extreme violence.

King Flaxen in Repose. Note the Clarity

His tomb lies today within the Tipton Metropolitan rubbish dump, adjacent to Mr Patel's kebab shop and home for tasty stray animals.

Dr Treehouse Mugumbo, renowned archaeologist and ferret tamer at Tipton University of Difficult Sums, takes up the narrative with characteristic fervour and verve: "This is a remarkable historical find of significant historical import and is likely to rewrite the history books, within the context of its historical in situ milieu as we know it. Arse"

King Flaxen was found in repose, be-straddled by his trusty double-headed Danish War axe, 'Twat Cruncher' and his mighty sword, 'Arse, Big Fat Arse Biter' (Arse). In addition, his body was bestrewn and interlarded with 100,000 Tipton groats, valued in today's money as equivalent to 5 billion Zimbabwe dollars, or about 50 pence. Also, upon his personage was a perfect working example of a 10th-century mobile phone. Apparently, though, his plan for free data had lapsed.

King Flaxen's remains are in astoundingly good condition. This is probably due to his fondness for imbibing the local alcoholic drink, mead, which embalmed his robust and beautifully formed frame. DNA has been extracted from his well-preserved scrotal sac, and genetic testing has unequivocally determined that the incumbent mayor of Tipton (incorporating Halesowen and Brierley Hill), Mr. Enoch Vowel, is a direct descendant of the mad Saxon king. On hearing the news, Mr. Vowel had this to say: "It comes as no surprise; I've always had this pervading feeling of being special; indeed, I went to a special school. I will be a wise and magnanimous ruler but will brook no dissent or criticism whatsoever. From now on, you will refer to me as King Enoch 'The Ferret' and scrape and bow in my presence under the pain of death administered by 'Twat Cruncher', Monday to Thursday (inclusive), and 'Arse, Big Fat Arse Biter' arse, Friday to Sunday. By right of birth, I now own the environs of Tipton (incorporating Halesowen, Brierley Hill and Dudley North) and all its chattels and bondsmen. I am a living earthly representation of the god Woden". 

Later that day, Mr. Vowel was shuffled orf to the local Insane Asylum without fuss or due ceremony.       

In a civic ceremony, sans Vowel, King Flaxen's remains were unceremoniously flung onto the Tipton Metropolitan dump site. They will remain here for an eternity unless consumed by stray dogs or rendered down for glue by a wandering band of Romanian/Albanian/(insert gypo of your choice here).

Stray dogs and gypos are said to be circling the periphery, as I write..........