A Message from The Great Curator
When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
Then I picked up a dusty volume of Herodutus’s' Histories from a shelf and immediately knew that it was all complete bollocks.
It didn't take me long to realise that all history was lies and they were all out to get me, so I set out with my trusty history pencil to gather real history. History not recorded by those stuff shirted arse-mongers at Oxford or Cambridge. This is the real thing.
So what if my only qualification is City and Guilds Grouting? I am the curator! The greatest collector of knowledge that the universe has ever seen.
Here in this place, here, I have gathered the finest and truest histories known to man and I hope you enjoy them.
He Should be Trundled Out on a Biddy
In the sleepy breasts of West Yorkshire sits a small town called Cleckheaton. This is a town with a secret only know to millions. It is the town where the phrase ‘he should be trundled out on a biddy’ originates and the only place where you can find it etched into a thousand pork pies.
I hope you enjoy this history.