Someone To Watch Over Me

Sidey’s Weekend Theme is “the secret watcher”…

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The Princess was stunning.

She was amazingly beautiful, wore a flowing dress that, when she moved, was not so much figure-hugging as figure-caressing, and she had a twinkle in her eye that suggested she’d rather be chased than chaste.

From across the ballroom the Prince stared open-mouthed in admiration. He started to move toward her and, walking invisibly beside him, his Fairy Godfather smiled.

Then the giant doors opened and in walked an even more beautiful girl in an even more amazing dress. She clinked as she walked, as if her sparkling necklace was bouncing against her startling chest, or as if she had a six-pack of beer hidden under her skirt. The cause of the sound, though, was neither of these things.

She was wearing glass slippers.

The Prince, as if in a trance, crossed the room to her and took her by the hand. The orchestra, who could take a hint, began to play Wonderful Tonight.

“Ah, bollocks,“ said the Princess audibly.

I know how you feel, thought the Fairy Godfather. Suddenly Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother appeared beside him.

“That wasn’t fair,” said the Fairy Godfather. “I had him set up with the Princess.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Cinderella’s Godmother. “You know you’re not allowed to.”

This was true. The Godfathers were not allowed to interfere, mainly since they insisted in speaking in Italian accents no matter where they were from, and because their stock solution to every problem was to take out a contract on any opposition. Oh, and because the Godmothers were women, so what they said went.

The Fairy Godfathers were secret watchers and nothing else. They had no control over the fate of their charges, hapless Princes with no brains.

“Look at him,” said the Fairy Godfather disgustedly. “The Princess has wealth, beauty, breeding and a kingdom, or at least a princessdom. You’ve stuck him with a girl with no money, ridiculous taste in shoes and two frighteningly ugly sisters, which makes you wonder what she’ll look like in five years time, once she has unlimited access to the pizza larder.”

“I don’t care,” said the Fairy Godmother. “As long as she’s home by twelve my girl will be happy, and I can move onwards and upwards.” She disappeared to fill out her application form for the position of Guardian Angel, the next invisible rung on their invisible career ladder.

The Fairy Godfather watched as the evening progressed, as did the relationship. Cinderella and the Prince sat staring into each others eyes, while at the other end of the top table the Princess was getting both determinedly drunk and off with one of Cinderella’s footmen, unaware that he was actually a toad.

Then the clock struck eleven. Cinderella suddenly leapt from her chair and ran from the ballroom. The Prince followed her outside and watched as she raced towards her coach. One glass slipper came off, bounced down a couple of steps, and shattered.

The Prince watched open-mouthed as she vanished forever from his life. Then the Princess, nudged on by her own Fairy Godmother, came and put a consoling arm around him. She whispered in his ear (“rebound sex?”), he shrugged, took her hand and the two turned and went back into the castle.

Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother appeared beside the Godfather.

“What happened?” she gasped. “It’s only eleven o’clock.”

“Someone,” said the Fairy Godfather, “said she would get a lifetime supply of L’Oreal beauty products, the chance to audition for the X-Factor, and a dinner for two with the One Direction band member of her choice, as long as she left an hour early.”

“Someone?” said the Fairy Godmother.

The Fairy Godfather smiled. “I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse,” he said.

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