News came to Twillistia and Social Mediana that Shiwajun bore the scars of narcotic indictments and forfeitures from Bidenistan; that though he was a man of the abacus, the beads upon which the number of his years could acurately be counted had yet to be invented; and that, contrary to legend, Iragbijishire was where his umbilical cord was buried.

The aides at the Shiwajunian Palace of Bored Dyllon were thrown into a tizz, knowing not how to respond to the Social Medianites. But Shiwajun was calm. “See ye these rumours in Papyrussia or Ancient Mediana?” he asked them. “Nay, sire,” they responded. “Therefore be ye calm and find me Amy Logan, as I have instructed thee.” The aides were confused, but proceeded into all of Jirria, declaring a bounty for Amy Logan and, just in case they had heard the name incorrectly, Emille Oconn.

Now, as was customary in the land, very shortly after each House had nominated its champion in electoralis primera, the champions all chose a Hand – someone to sit around on stand-by in the event the champion became king and died whilst on the Iron Throne, such as Osinoshin was the Hand of Gambrach.

Arty Cool the Perennial chose Arturo O’Cowa, King of the Deltanians, also coming to the end of his second quadrannium on the throne. Obiwan Pitobi chose Suffidat as his Hand. Suffidavit had once been a senateen but the Magistarium had declared his election perfidious and he was thus removed. Shiwajun knew all eyes would be on him, as he was of the same House as King Gambrach, who sat upon the Iron Throne.

“Have ye found Amy Logan?” Shiwajun asked his men. “She will tell me who to appoint as my Hand.” His men looked at each other nervously and one of them finally summoned the courage to speak. “Oh Lord Shiwajun of Bored Dyllon, surest successor to Gambrach, may you live even longer. Your Grace, we searched high and low, for Amy Logan and Emille Oconn and Emil O’Corn, across all the kingdoms, but we found none bearing that name. We even cast our minds back to the wise words from your annual collostrum, and searched in the fields of cassava and the plantations of corn and the barn stores of beans and nary an Amy or Emille was to be found. Your Grace, you will have to choose your Hand of your own self.” Very well, thought Shiwajun to himself. I shall choose one of the Apicurean kings to be my Hand.

Now, the people of Jirria had many things which set them apart from each other. They were Northerosi and Southerosi in their origin and customs. Some were Stians and others were Slims. The Stians and the Slims were to be found amongst both Northerosi and Southerosi men but if a Northerosi Slim was king, the convention of the Kingdom was that his Hand would be a Southerosi Stian and vice versa.

Many thought that Shiwajun would choose Macashma Gandi, the Great Sold, King of Car-Knoe, as his Hand. But Shiwajun had heard many allegations about Gandi, including suggestions of excessive proximity to the Car-Knosian treasury. “This goes against every fibre of my ethos,” Shiwajun was reported to have said. Gandi, like Shiwajun, was also a Slim, so the people thought this ruled him out.

Others thus suggested King A-La-La-La-La-Long-Long-Li-Long-Long-Long of Play-Too, for he was a Northerosi Stian but he also did not find favour with Shiwajun. Lo, the Apicureans were perplexed, for Shiwajun tarried greatly.

One night, Shiwajun gathered the Apicurean prefects and asked them to bring before him Cashmoney the Shetty Man, who in quadrannia past has ruled as King in Borry Noo.

“Why?” they asked Shiwajun.

“I wish to make him my Hand,” he responded.

“Cashmoney? The Shetty Man? The people of our kingdoms will not accept this. Hast thou forgotten that like you he is a Slim? And a Fulannister like King Gambrach?”

“Brethren, those are the exact qualities I need to triumph at electoralis. Bring him before me.”

“What if we rechristen King A-La-La-La-La-Long-Long-Li-Long-Long-Long of Play-Too, so that he is now known as Emille Oconn?”

“No. No. No. Enough of this now. My mind is set on Cashmoney the Shetty Man.”

Wherefore, Shiwajun lay on the floor in the middle of the Apicurean sanctum and Cashmoney was brought in. The Apicurean prefects handed him an ear of corn and a bowl of beans and asked him to move closer to Shiwajun.

“Cashmoney, wilt thou now pledge fealty to Shiwajun of Bored Dyllon?”

“I will,” declared the Shetty Man. A gong sounded 3 times, whereupon Cashmoney stepped onto Shiwajun’s groin abd broke out into song – On your man-bits I shall stand, on your man-bits I shall stand, on your man-bits, on your man-bits, on your man-bits I shall stand. He then stepped off Shiwajun’s groin and ate the beans and the corn. And thus, it was done. The Shetty Man had been cornscripted to be Shiwajun’s Hand.

Shiwajun arose and led Cashmoney into Twillistia and Social Mediana, announcing, “Behold, I have chosen my Hand.” But as Shiwajun tried to raise the Shetty Man’s hands, the people saw him shaking visibly and was unable to raise either his or Cashmoney’s hands aloft.

“He is infirm!” the people cried. “He presenteth a double-Slim Kingship!!” cried others. “When Cashmoney was King of the BorryNoobians, a chieftain of the Haramites of Boko was found by the Constabulary in the Borry Noo palace in Boo Jar!!! This is a travesty!!!” cried others.

And in all the lands and kingdoms of Jirria, not a gaddem speck of chill was found.

The clouds of electoralis continued to gather in the Kingdom of Jirria and soon it was time for each electorailing house to choose its champion.

The Apicureans had declared in large numbers and a huge electoralis primera was planned, and hotly anticipated in Twilistia and Social Mediana. The word in Twilistia was that Gambrach desireth to serve Shiwajun a burnaboynian breakfast. However, it was known to all men that none was better in the arts of Wahala Morghulis than Shiwajun himself.

In House Padipalia, the leading contenders were Fearsome Wee-Kay of Rivissina, Obi-Wan Pitobi of Nambria and Arty Cool the Perennial. As the electoralis primera of the Padipalians drew nigh, Obi-Wan Pitobi awoke one morning, feeling uneasy after the dream he’d had. In his dream, he had seen a structureless house, with no foundations, with no shishi, floating above a huge Rock. And a voice said unto him, “Obi-Wan, thou art the Pitobi, and upon your rock, my structurelessness shall stand!”

Wherefore, Pitobi gathered his robes and belongings and announced his departure from the Padipalians, for the vision was clear to him. He vanished for three days and three nights, and when he emerged, he emerged as champion for House Dohaeris. Lo, did the Apicureans and Padipalians make huge mockery of him and the Dohaerisses, saying “the Dohaerisses have not the benefit of historical pillaging of the public purse to fund their activities. Obi-Wan shall soon realise that men of honesty cannot take the Iron Throne of Boo-Jar.”

In Apicurean gatherings, Shiwajun sensed a less than overwhelming support for his ambitions and thus decided to remind the Apicureans of just who he was. He journed to Ogunssopotamia and spake to the gathering in High Yorballian, saying –

“Have ye forgotten just who the hell I am? Remember ye not how my hands have held up the firmament of our great house and how thy kings are inscribed upon the palms of my hands? Could even this abjectly common one,” he sneered towards King Dah-Poe, “be King without my benefactions?“

And from that day on, King Dah-Poe became known throughout Jirriah by his new title, King Dah-Poe The Abjectly Common.

Shiwajun continued. “Twas these same benefactions that enthroned King Gambrach in Boo Jar. Had he not failed and failed and failed and failed and failed and failed and failed? Yea, he wept when he remembered he hadn’t won. But I came unto him and carried away his lachrymallity, requiring from him just a word, that he would not forget the Yorball in the Boo-Jarrian lands. Behold, the Iron Throne must fall to us Yorballs and yea, it must fall to me! In the words of the great ancient prophetess Diana of Rawsse, ‘It’s my turn!’ Ich bin dran, so get me Amy Logan!!!”.

“Amy Logan?”, asked the Abjectly Common one and the other Apicurians. “Yes”, answered Shiwajun, “Amy Logan. Get her.”

Lo, the people heard it and unchill began to rumble in the land.

Thus, the time drew nigh for the Padipalians to conduct their primera and select their champion. And despite Abushola’s eloquence and Fearsome Wee-Kay’s fidelity and fiduciary fulminousity to the Apicureans, Arty Cool emerged champion and flag bearer. Fearsome believed it not and for days later he was heard singing the Daminian Lament, “Ye shalt be amazed at the result oh (I was), there’s nothing to discuss oh, I didn’t win by default oh, I canst withstand this insult oh, I NEED A BOAT AND SHY HOES!!!“

Yea, did the pendulum swing unto the Apicureans. And lo, they came, one after the other, to make their case to be champion. Most notable of them was Ben Ten Jack Too Rich who drew inspiration from his mother’s susceptibility to amorous defraudment and her consequential gestatory prolificness.

Try as they might, no one could withstand the Wahala Morghulis of Shiwajun, who won by a mudslide, beating Monoraillius Incompletus well into second place.

The die was cast. And last last, the Apicureans all had breakfast. Shah Yo O!

But then news came to Twillistia that Shiwajun bore the scars of narcotic indictments and forfeitures from Bidenistan; that though he was a man of the abacus, the beads upon which the number of his years could acurately be counted had yet to be invented; and that, contrary to legend, Iragbijishire was where his umbilical cord was buried.

The people heard it and there was no gaddem chill in the land.