Sir Tempest Brockel rubbed the perspiration from his brow and moaned. The heat was unbearable, he thought to himself, and it was draining watching the hired hands excavate the tomb. As he watched one slowed down a bit and a swell of outrage rose in Sir Tempest’s breast, but it was too hot for that, and so he retired to the tent to sip on fresh-pressed oranges and eat the sweet dates of Al-Garbled. If the workers found anything they would call him.
He had no sooner slipped through the tent-flap when the cries began, and he ran straight back outside.
‘A tomb, Offendi,’ cried his right hand man, the name of whom Sir Tempest could never remember, it being fiendishly difficult. All foreign names were; why couldn’t they stick to simple ones like Archibald, Algernon and Agamemnon, just to take the ‘A’s’for example?
Pondering on this impenetrable mystery, he wandered over to the structure being uncovered, losing half his bodyweight in fluids from the heat. Crouching down over an inscription just legiable, partly out of interest and partly to prevent his suddenly far too loose trousers from falling down, he blanched.
‘There’s a curse on this one!’ he cried, suddenly regretting it. The natives exchanged glances.
‘It just says ‘If you dare to uncover this tomb- Do not enter!’ explained another of the men, whose fiendishly difficult name was much harder to remember than, for example, Montgomery, Montmorency or Marsupial. although Sir Tempest was not too sure about that last one either, come to think of it.
Another native turned up, and the tall Englishman gave a sigh of relief as it was the only one he could ever remember the name of .
‘What do you want Halibut?’
‘That is Al- Biet, Sir Ten-pests,’ replied the man with good humour; ‘I just wanted to know if I could keep this small trinket in exchange for helping you fully uncover the tomb.’ And he produced a four-foot tall roll of bandages.
Sir Tempest looked at it lazily.
‘That’s fair;- oh, that’s who I came for!’ He turned bright red, but not out of annoyance, out of sunburn which could come on quite suddenly over here, and added; ‘no way. I’ll dig out the Tomb with may bare hands if I have too!’
Four months later, Sir Tempest scooped up the final handful and proudly strode into the tomb. In doing so he became the first person to die of doughnut asphyxiation; the curse, which he had misheard, was ‘doughnut enter, and they did so at the rate of one a second, popping into existence between him and the door. And what was worse was that they were jam doughnuts; and so Sir Tempest Brockel came to a sticky end.