Open Wide the Gates! Weekend 1, Bristol Renaissance Faire 2010

Brilliant snappery by Brent Price II; find more heart-expanding work by this fine Phooligan at http://www.stunninglight.com/

I've only just fully recovered from Opening Weekend at the Bristol Renaissance Faire - and it's a good thing, too, because tomorrow's Weekend 2! Her Majesty's Progress in Bristol is full of international intrigue, romance, derring-do, devoted and adored mad Phooligans a-plenty, a joust by Phoole Faves the Hanlon-Lees that will blow your mind with everything from horror to hilarity, and -- yes! -- PORPENTINES. Here are some more of the magic moments:

Photo by Larry Maka

Photo by Kayoz Swicago, with more amazing work at http://yourphotoworld.com/

Photo by Deniiiiiiise Prohaska! I am not actually drunk in this picture, although over on the FaceBook, T. Stacy Hicks captioned this one as "Drunk, Drunker, Drunkest." With Jenni Glueckstein as Magnolia May and Richard Weber as Lord Mayor Egads Newcastle.

Another precious moment from Denise Prohaska. T. Stacy Hicks captioned this one: "She has no idea where she is right now."

Photo by James Tampa. These pirates needed to keep their identities a secret, and I happened to have a package of false moustaches, which I had just received as a gift from indulgent and generous Phooligans Clay and Randi Stiller. These moustaches shall be mentioned again later.

Joy Blast! Photo by James Tampa. Gabriel, the tiny fool on the right, blasts people with joy! I recommend it!

Phooligan Photo-Taker Extraordinaire Ivan Phillips captured many little moments with a lens of magnificence this past Sunday, and I hope you enjoy these little glimpses. The glamor? He captures it. Let me show you it. The following several moments transpired during an encounter with Sir Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leycestre, Her Majesty's Master of Horse -- and one of Her Grace's other best friends. T. Stacy Hicks and I portray Leycestre and Jane as friends who have faced a great deal together, and Phooligans enjoy the pauses from intrigue which punctuate our adventures:

Photo by Ivan Phillips

T. Stacy Hicks as Sir Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leycestre, Master of Her Majesty's Horse; photo by Ivan Phillips

Photo by Ivan Phillips

Photo by Ivan Phillips, composition and framing once again by Caravaggio, I think

Photo by Ivan Phillips, and doesn't this look like a movie still? Somebody get us a movie.

Photo by Ivan Phillips: "The Monkey List!"

Photo by Ivan Phillips, with Jenni Glueckstein as Magnolia May, Bristol's Mistress of Misrule

And now: PORPENTINES. Porkchop the Porpentine's adventures from last year are chronicled here. But Porkchop's not the only porpentine on the block now, for he has a new baby sister. And her name is:

BEANS!

Photo by Denise Prohaska. Here Beans snuzzles Magnolia May's fingers, making us all wonder if chompage would shortly ensue.

Beans was born on April 1, 2010. She's an April Fool's Porpentine Baby!

Photo by Denise Prohaska. You cannot handle this much cuteness. No one can. Just fall down.

Photo by Denise Prohaska. Can you stand it? You can't!

Photo by Denise Prohaska. Here, Porkchop gleefully devours Lord Mayor Egads Newcastle's deleeeeecious fan.

Photo by Denise Prohaska. There's nothing in the world that can't be improved by letting a baby porpentine clamber up your cleavage!

Photo by Denise Prohaska. Here, Porkchop begins his ascent of the Lord Mayor. Brent Price II was on hand as well, and here is a series of pictures he took of the rest of Porkchop's Adventure On Top of the Lord Mayor's Head. Click and enjoy!

Here's A Health To...The Porpentine! or: Farewell, Porkchop

Cute Porcupine Guy, originally uploaded by ice.bluess.

Nine days' worth of things happened in the three days of the Bristol Renaissance Faire's closing weekend, but one of my favorite farewells happened to involve this sleepy li'l curmudgeon, our friend, Porkchop the Porpentine (which is a Porcupine, but 450 years ago).

On Monday, Bristol's closing day, I had been involved in hijinks that kept me close to the North side of town, and so as the shadows began to stretch into autumnal afternoon, I made a determined stomp Southward, to try to visit every neighborhood I'd neglected earlier in the day. Having already achieved my 100th language for "bad monkey" (full story later), I trundled through Shoplatch Lane, greeted people in the High Street, and reached the crossroads of The Frightening Bridge and the middle road in Traders' Wharf. I decided this might be my best chance to have one last beviewment of Porkchop before Fall carried Her Grace and Court off to Barkley Castle, so I swung over toward the Petting Farm.

The Farm was jammed with excited critters and happy children, and a longish line of people waited for a visit with the goats, piggies, lemurs, pastel skunklets, and fluffy wee Highland coo. I approached the lass tending the gate and asked if Porkchop were receiving guests -- I anticipated disappointment, as I knew he had been grumpy earlier that day and had received a "time-out," which is funny to me, 'coz you can't take the "chop" out of "Porkchop," can you?

She reported that Porkchop, alas, was napping, in a bucket, which is terribly cute of him you must admit. I smiled sadly and asked her to please tell him "goodbye" for me when he woke, and then thanked her and went on my way.

Mere steps away I encountered small crowds of well-wishers, wanting to know if I'd gotten 100 languages for "bad monkey" yet, and hoping the Queen was liking her birthday presents, and so forth, and I hadn't gotten more than a block away from the Petting Farm when I suddenly heard, "Jane!" We all looked up, and here was the Master of the Porpentine, hurtling toward us, a very sleepy Porkchop in his arms.

My eyes filled with happy tears, and a crowd whooshed in around us, marvelling at the slumbering so-soft-looking Porpentine. We all pet Porkchop, very tentatively like you do when you know that the fluffy fur hides a tiny painful pike-block, and I found myself rattling off every fact I knew about the Porpentine, sounding very much like an even sillier David Attenborough, as all gathered around and enjoyed the cute face and fluffulence of the dozing 'Tine.

Finally, I looked up at the handler and said, "You know, all this season we've made such an enormous fuss over Porkchop, celebrating him with tales and songs and pageantry, and yet, through all of it, I've been so thoughtless as to never ask your name!" He smiled and said he was called Jason. I addressed the company then, saluting Master Jason, Master of Porkchop the Porpentine, and regaling the crowd with how his tender care of the beast had brought him to the notice even of the Queen of England, and how Her Majesty had bade us gift him with the vambraces that protect Jason's arms from the monstrous chompers of the Porpentine.

Delighted by this last reunion, and grieved to part, I thanked Jason one more time for his patience with our silly obsession with this cutest of curmudgeonly creatures. We exchanged sad smiles, and I turned toward the North again, to bid a few more farewells before addressing myself to Her Grace for a last Bristol audience. But all the while the day lasted, I thought of Porkchop, the Porpentine of Bristol, and the joy he'd brought us with every prickle and every chomp during this Her Majesty's Royal Progress. Merry meet, merry Porkchop, and merry meet again!

The Porpentine Rampage!

Porpentine Fascination Continues Unabated, and Sunday afternoon's excursion was a blissful delight. I found myself in Newmarket, chatting away with patrons from around the world (met even more Russian, Bulgarian, Polish and Lithuanian guests this weekend), when the Master of the Porpentine brought the crotchety critter over from the Petting Farm and Let It Run Around On Its Own, right on the grass, amidst the excited patrons! It made a beeline for one woman's leg and began immediately to nom her, which terrified me utterly, but the woman insisted that it was fine, and that her cat bites her with more ferocity, and she just sat there and let the obstreperous spiny beast chomp away at her ankles and calves, much to the horror of her very young daughter, who squealed in fear and gathered her legs up onto the bench, out of reach of the Porpentine's mighty incisors. He then turned his ire on the bench itself, chewing at it with ferocity, for he is compelled constantly to chew and chew. A large crowd amassed -- some thirty people -- all standing about wondering at the voracious chew-need of the Porpentine. And I just plopped on the ground, perfectly happy, watching people enjoy the Porpentine, and delighting in its grumpy antics myself. The Master of the Porpentine, arms clad in the Excalibur Leather bracers we'd gifted him, seized the Porpentine then and flipped him on his back on the ground, and the Porpentine APPEARED TO LIKE BEING INVERTED! He displayed his belly, seemingly happily and calmly, which surprised everyone, and the Master of the Porpentine said, "Quick, pet him now before he flips back over," and we fairly dove at the thing, all petting his soft underbelly fur and admiring his prosh giant back-feet paw pads. Eventually he righted himself, and, just as surprisingly, whirled about rapidly about ten times, just spinning like a pincushion possessed, and it made no sense at all, which is exactly what one wants on a cool bright Sunday afternoon. Then it went back to finding things to chomp, streaking toward a young lad in knee-high brown leather boots, wrapping his little arms around the calf and nomming him ferociously! The Porpentine was completely strange and delightful out in the open, and I wish Lord Leycester and Egads had been there to witness his surly rampage amongst patrons' legs.

Behold Porkchop, the Porcupine of Bristol

Porcupine, originally uploaded by theta_sigma.

This is Porkchop. He is the porcupine in Her Majesty's Menagerie at the Bristol Renaissance Faire, presented by Jo-Don Farms, who also operate the Faire's Pony Ride attraction. Visit him! He likes to chomp, as he's rather young and his teeth grow at an alarming rate; I'm given to understand his teeth will grow all his life, and he has to continually chomp things to keep them from growing too long. Unfortunately, that means that anything near his mouth is eligible for chompage. So when you pet him, begin at his forehead and pet him toward his tail -- keep anything you don't want chomped away from his mouth. He chomps indiscriminately, as the scars on his gentle and kind handler's arms will attest! Also, note that he looks super-fluffulent, but beneath that fluffy 'do is a STARTLING ARRAY OF POINTINESS.

Points 'n' chomps aside, Porkchop is an enchanting little fellow, and he's been the focus of several pageants and Peer-heavy events already this season. Stop by the Petting Zoo or the Pony Ride and enjoy his curmudgeonly disposition and overwhelming cuteness!

So Dignified! The Mayor And The Phoole by Steve Spitzer

The Mayor And The Phoole, originally uploaded by Happy_Peasant.

Steve Spitzer again delivers the maddest of moments in a dazzling, gorgeous, overwhelmingly silly weekend. The weather was obscenely lovely, the Phoole Friends ridiculously kind and loving, the "bad monkey" languages abounding, and the hijinks exciting. There was DEFINITELY a REAL PORCUPINE too. Full stories as soon as I awaken, I hope!