History with Mr. F--

[Dogface]

Good afternoon, please take your seats. I will be lecturing you this unit in world history as it seems your normal teacher, Mr. Abercrombie, has taken a brief leave (of his senses, if you ask me)--don’t write that down, Fletcher! So, I will be “taking up the slack”, as it were. I realize that most of you know me only as the rugby master and assistant hammer-toss coach, but I’ll put up with no lip just because we’re in a classroom and not on the scrum, am I understood? Good!

Anyway, does anyone know what this unit in world history is to be about? Anyone? You--what’s your name? Harris? Right, then, Harris, what are we to be learning about for the next few lectures? Don’t know? Of course you don’t know--that’s why I am the teacher and you are the pupil! Nice how things work out this way, isn’t it? Don’t answer that!

Today, class, we are going to begin the history of Austria--shut up! Yes, I know, it’s bad enough for there to even be Austrians, with their “Habsburg” this and “Enlightenment” that and them rubbing everyone’s nose in how they “invented” Central Europe and how they were the only Great Power to voluntarily dismember themselves. Yes, it is enough to make you vomit, but we’re learning about them, so shut up and listen.

For all intents and purposes, modern Austria begins around 1420, about a decade, give or take, into the reign of an unspeakably Habsburgian fellow named Albert. He was the fifth one they had had so he’s called Albert V. What is it, Martin? I don’t care that he’s called “Albrecht” in sausageland, we speak English here and he’s going to bloody well be called Albert!

Anyway, Albert had managed to end up with both the thrones of Bohemia and Austria, with a cousin on the throne of Hungary. Just look at the map, Stevenson:

As you can see, the middle of Europe was a stinking cesspit of half-baked independent countries, all run by some Erherzog, Krautmeister, Wurstgraf, or another. Those of you who haven’t obliterated your short-term memory on last weekend’s supposedly “secret” bender--I’m looking at you, Martin--may vaguely recall from last unit that these countries were all part of the Holy Roman Empire. As the beneficiaries of the center of medieval European culture, they, of course, squandered it into smacking each other silly over factional privileges, leaving the Empire in not much of a state at all. Oh, yes, you should know that the thick black line on the map is the border of this Empire.

Anyway, Albert was king of Bohemia, which we will essentially ignore, and duke of Austria. Let’s take a closer look at Austria, while we’re at it, shall we?

Not much to look at, is it? But it was the second-largest country in the Empire, and its ruler also managed to run Bohemia at the time. Albert had been kicking around as duke of Austria for a decade or so. He got a bee in his bonnet to enact a little vengeance upon the Helvetian Confederation. Never heard of ‘em? I should say not, after what Austria did Here is how it went:

Some time around the year 1290, a bunch of people in what is now western Austria took exception to being ruled by Habsburgs (not that anybody could blame them) and set off to run things their own way. They were doing pretty darn well for themselves, having kicked the Habsburgs out soundly in 1386 and in 1388. Any man with a lick of sense would have called it at that, but Albert wasn’t happy with his own kingdom and arch-duchy.

So he got together his favorite thugs and hiked off in 1419 westward ho into Helvetia. marching straight through the eastern cantons--it‘s like a province, only more unwieldy--inflicting a stunning defeat on the defenders at the Battle of Klausen Pass, and laying siege to Bern in the spring of that year.

Well, as you can believe, the Helvetians were not exactly thrilled at the prospect of playing lackey to a fat Habsburg sandwich so they showed their disapproval with appropriately sharp items--like the ones I will use on you, Johnson, if you don’t stop staring out that window. Unfortunately, the Austrians had their own sharp items and smacked them silly. The most embarrassing incident was at the Battle of Brienz, where Helvetian rescuers arrived just in time to meet new Austrian reinforcements.

The whole thing wasn’t over yet, though. Eastern Helvetia wasn’t occupied, and the Austrians had to run like monkeys to get some more troops over to western Helvetia in time for the three months worth of running battles that culminated in the Battle of Albula Pass, where the commanders of the Helvetian army had their heads cut off, the skulls hollowed out, and melted cheese poured in the eye sockets in the traditional Swiss manner--no, I am not just making that up, Martin!

Now that the Helvetian campaign was reduced to mindless slogging--another sound from you, Martin, and you’re on report. Anyway, Albert was getting bored with just methodically beating up Helvetians who had all holed up in their towns. Fortunately, Hungary had gone to war against Venice.

As you may recall from the maps, Albert’s Austria had no sea port. Venice had several to spare, and Albert decided to avail himself of as many as he could swipe without working up a sweat. A quick tett-ah-tett over in Budapest in October of 1419, and Austria and Bohemia were now “bravely defending Hungary from the Venetian hordes”, or some such nonsense. Never mind that Hungary started the whole bloody fight, of course.

Figuring that the best way to kill a snake was to smash its head, Albert launched an invasion straight over the Tyrolean alps into Veneto. Of course, the Venetians weren’t going to let him party alone, so a great honking mass of Italians threw a real smasheroo at the border. Unfortunately, the New Years Party Battle of 1420 turned out to be a bust for the hosts, and the guests overstayed their welcome.

To make matters worse, Albert’s men then dashed down the Adriatic coast for a quick game of Pin the Tail on the Dago. What? Offensive? Yes, you’re absolutely right. I’m horribly sorry and cannot say what came over me. I shall endeavour to be far more sensitive in the future--and please give my warmest regards to your father, Judge Garibaldi, won’t you my dear fellow?

As I was saying, despite the…famous courage and noted military genius of the resplendent Venetian army, they were no match for the vile perfidy and inhumane human-wave tactics of the Austrian aggressors. Their final, desperate stand--the stuff of legends--was at the northern border to the tiny state of Ragusa, but courage and pluck was no match that day for sheer inhuman brutality, and Austria crushed the last, pitiable remains of Venice’s courageous defenders on January 6, 1422 at what is now unfortunately known as the Battle of the Hangover.

Now, while putting the remainder of the Venetian army to flight, news came to Albert that his men had finally swiped the last chicken left in Helvetia. With nothing more to specifically loot, he reluctantly turned his mind to peaceful negotiation.

As such matters went for those days, it was a remarkably generous settlement. Only half of Helvetia’s territory was handed over to the Habsburgs and they had to send over half their taxes in perpetuity--but at least the Swiss delegates got to keep their underwear.

Albert’s shenanigans did not go unnoticed, and Poland and Lithuania--those are the enormous orange and tan countries northeast of Bohemia, declared war on the nearest portion of Albert’s territory they could reach--that being Bohemia. Why did they do it? Balance of Power, Potter, Balance of Power. Fortunately for Albert, Poland’s heart wasn’t in the matter, and a status quo pro ante peace was negotiated by the fall of 1426.

Now, at about this time, a wandering loon by the name of “Mentifex Perfectus” came to Albert’s attention, preaching things like “observe the universe directly” and “thought is the greatest form of prayer”. In those days, that was a sure sign of mental illness, and the only acceptable medical treatment was quick application of a bonfire to the afflicted individual. But Mentifex could spin a good yarn, and Albert ignored the advice of his bishops. The upshot of this was that, from then on, all Austrian citizens had to learn their alphabet by the age of thirty. Primary education worldwide has little improved--do not write that down, Mitchell!

Be that as it may, Venetian defense essentially ceased by Midsummer of 1424, although the Doge’s--dee, oh, gee, ee--it’s a sort of CEO who openly runs a country--the Doge’s negotiators took an entire year to come around to Albert’s way of looking at things, all the meanwhile Austria collected their trade revenues. The upshot of the settlement was that Venice lost their entire Adriatic coast and Austria gained a sea port plus a spare. For the rest of Albert’s reign, Austria looked something like this:

The rest of said reign was pretty boring except for a massive Helvetian revolt in 1426 that wiped out two Austrian armies and wasn’t put down for three months. The only high point remaining for Albert was his election to the office of Holy Roman Emperor in 1437. Albert responded by first appointing Mentifex--remember him?--as his Chancellor and then going mad before having the good taste to simply die.

[Cat Lord]

Funny, I give a try to Austria once, and guess what, I DoW Venice immediately.

I guess it is just natural to try to entitle the Archi-Duke with the possibility to have some holidays on the Adriatic Sea beaches

Cat

[MrT]

What a great beginning! I like the style you're using and some of those asides to your students are hysterical...takes me back to my (well...I guess I won't dwell on it).

[Duuk]

This is great. Please keep going.

Duuk

[Norgesvenn]

I laughed even harder than when scripting events for "The Righteous BastAARds"!

Great stuff, and a fresh approach to everyone's favourite villain!

[Faeelin]

This actually reminds me of my American history class.

I think I'll be enjoying this.

[King Of Nines]

i was always that guy sitting in the back sleeping.

[Dogface]

Note that there will be no more posts to this AAR until Monday. Schools are not in session on the weekend, after all.

[rich-love]

I'm really enjoying this style - keep it coming. The pics are excellent as well.
-Rich

[Craig Ashley]

I swear I had this guy for American History my freshman year. Are you sure it's not Mr. Shields? Anyway hysterical stuff. I'll will be following this one.

[Backpack]

A very enjoyable read so far. I like the presentation style. Keep it coming.

[Dogface]

Good afternoon, class. As you may recall, yesterday our lecture was pre-empted by an untimely fire alarm. While I cannot prove that it was arson, and that said arson was committed by student or students in this classroom , I will begin today by stating that nobody, and I mean nobody at all, will be permitted to use the sanitary facilities until the end of the class.

In any case, yesterday, Albert IV had gone loopy and bogged off to his immortal reward. The Austrian throne sat vacant during most of 1449. Albert was finally succeeded in 1440 by the King of Bohemia, Ladislas, sometimes called Ladislas Postumus, since he came to power only after Albert died or some other equally pointless reason. The Europe that Austria was in the middle of looked something like this:



As you can see, Austria wasn’t the only country who had been a naughty boy. Matters in the east were pretty much as they were when Albert took the throne with one noteworthy exception. The Teutonic Order, which had made a complete nuisance of themselves in the Baltic as long as anyone at the time could remember, had been chopped up among Lithuania, Sweden, and a local rebellion that took to calling itself Kurland.

In the west, there was more of a shake-up. The Duchy of Burgundy grabbed Lorraine--and started agitating immediately for the old Crown of Lotharingia, not that anybody listened--and much of the Low Countries. Portugal had kicked the Moors out of Grenada and set up housekeeping, much to Castille’s annoyance. But the worst offenders, by far, were the French. Not only had they gotten Aragon to chase England out of the Aquitaine (too yellow to do their own dirty work just yet), but they had snatched most of Brittany and outright annexed any number of hapless countries in the south of Gaul.

Given such a situation, Ladislas started out his reign on a high note by getting himself elected Holy Roman Emperor. He then took control of the alliance that Hungary had been leading. Now, Albert had been heaping great mounds of Austrian funds to whatever toadies he could find in what remained of Helvetia. Ladislas took advantage of this with a massive pay-off that convinced the Swiss that what they really needed was a military alliance with their Habsburg masters. Any dog would rather sleep indoors, after all.

Once these matters were out of the way, Ladislas was free to spend much of the rest of the decade in domestic misery, dealing with popular displeasure at his attempts to reform the civil service, an epidemic in Istria in 1443, and an attempted coup by Tyrolean nobility in 1445. The only high point of Ladislas’s first ten in power was that he was able to partially consolidate Bohemian and Austrian government functions so as to get a little more cash flowing into Austrian coffers--he could tell which side of the bread should get the butter, and it wasn‘t Moravia.

In the meantime, Helvetia decided to test out her alliance with Austria and declared war on Savoy, no doubt trying to ape her betters by getting her own seaport. Genoa, Milan, and Tuscany rose to Savoy’s defense, and Austria had the choice of either destroying the excellent relations she had built up with Savoy and Tuscany or lose her alliance. In 1448, she chose the former, but from that point on, Helvetia’s days were numbered, not that the Swiss had the faintest clue that the Habsburgs reserved the right of conquest solely to themselves, of course.

Austria tried a defensive strategy this time out, but Milan would have nothing of it, immediately marching into Tyrol. In February. The Rescue of Innsbruck sent the Milanese on their way, and the Luncheon Battle at Brenner Pass pushed them out of Austria entirely.

Following up on the opportunity created by smashing half the Milanese army, Austria trotted over to Milan, which promptly recalled her troops to defend her very existence--as if that trick would ever work. From April through June of that year, Milan and Austria were locked tooth-and-nail, with the Milanese army being repeatedly repulsed and retreating into Parma, finally being destroyed at the week-long Battle of Placenza and Cremona through sheer exhaustion, if nothing else. Yes, Thompson, Placenza and Cremona. It started in Cremona, then they got bored and took it on the road, smashing randomly into each other for five days until they finally duked it out in Placenza--because it has bestter scanscion, that’s why!

Ladislas then had his men hunker down and loot Milan for a while. The Lombards finally accepted the inevitable in December of 1448 and Milan disappeared from the map. This was the only territorial acquisition of Ladislas’s reign.



Doesn’t look like much compared to what Albert did, does it? That only shows how little you know! By grabbing ancient Lombardy, Ladislas had actually doubled the population of Austria and added a province richer than any other that had been at his disposal. One look at this wealth and the die was cast--”die”, it’s the singular of “dice”, Pruitt. Once you’ve cast your die your move is deter--just never mind! Yes, Martin, it could also refer to casting a metal die for manufacturing or printing. Thank you very much. Shut up.

In any case, Austria then bowed out of the rest of the war, making a quick peace with the rest of her enemies. Of course, being “at peace” may mean something different to a Habsburg than it would to you or me. They had no qualms about slipping a little dirty lucre to Helvetia until she had managed to snap up the Piedmont from Savoy.

To celebrate the western victory, Hungary declared war on Moldavia in 1449, hoping to get her own bit of waterfront property. This war had little direct Austrian action and she signed a separate peace treaty within a month, although she essentially bankrolled Bohemia’s activity for the rest of the war. This paid off when Bohemia managed to conquer and annex Wallachia in 1452. Ladislas celebrated by running off with a mistress for a year and leaving the government to his butler.

The last six months of Ladislas’s life--that would be in 1457--saw him at war in Italy again. Once again, Genoa declared war on Helvetia, mounting Genoa, Savoy, Tuscany, and Modena against Austria, Helvetia, Hungary, Bohemia, and Siebenbürgen, who didn‘t let the conquest of their erstwhile Romanian brothers in Wallachia lay in the way of an advantageous alliance.

Now we come to the first of a new line of Habsburg savages, Frederick V. Fred was the head of a junior branch of the Habsburgs and had had to console himself with being King of the Germans since 1440. Being King of the Germans was a lot like being Queen of the May, except with less political clout. Fortunately, his cousin Ladislas gave him the gift of dying childless, ensuring that he would inherit Austria. More importantly, he got himself elected Emperor and immediately turned around and ratified the Hapbsburg claim of being “Archdukes”.

So what is an “Archduke”? For reasons having mostly to do with petty, mad sadists not wanting to be one-upped by the over-armed pigsty owner beyond the next hill, the laws of the Empire only permitted one “King of the Germans“, who was elected, so the leader of any German land was not permitted to call himself a King. Duke was as good as he could get. This wasn’t good enough for the Habsburgs, of course, so they took to calling themselves “Archdukes” as early as 1358. Unfortunately, since nobody else has ever used the title, nobody can say what it really means. Nevertheless, after Frederick became Emperor, the Habsburgs were officially “Archdukes”.

Why was there a “King of the Germans” and an Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire? Fair enough question, I suppose. The problem child was yet another chunk of Habsburg land, of course--Bohemia. Not a Kraut to be found for miles in parts of it, and it was still in the Empire. So you had a King of Bohemia--an actual king of a country and a “King of the Germans”, who didn’t have a territory but at least could consider himself Top Dachshund.

But in 1458, the “King of the Germans” got to be Archduke of Austria and Emperor. This was the Europe that met Frederick V when he took the Austrian throne and Imperial mantle in late 1457:



The east, with the exception of Wallachia’s disappearance, was pretty much as Ladislas had found it. In the West, however, France’s monumental unpleasantness was very obvious, having devoured poor Brittany, removed England from all but Normandy, and callously absorbed yet another loyal vassal. To make matters worse, France had even stolen Cantabria from Spain. No, Burns, you’re not seeing things, the Kingdom of Navarra really did completely pull up stakes and move north.

But the cares of the Atlantic mattered little to Frederick, who had yet another Italian war on his hands. Francesco Sforza, last ruler of Milan, had been hiding out in Modena, nursing his grudge and eating cheese. He took advantage of the situation and staged a revolt in his old stomping grounds in December of 1457, just in time to interfere with Austria’s defense against a Genovese invasion of Lombardy. Both were put down at the Battle of Pavia, where Genovese cavalry were tricked into charging Sforza’s encampment, killing Sforza and the House of Lombardy. True to form, Austria then set her sights on yet another small Italian state, smashing Duke Borso’s pathetic defense within days of crossing Modena’s border, and taking complete control of the region within nine months.

Once again, it was annexation and a quick peace with Modena’s former allies. One would think that by this time the Italians might have learned something about Austria, but it seems they were happy to believe that the Habsburgs would be satisfied with just this one more province. As far as Frederick’s opinion on the matter, all he said was “I do like cheese, but I would like wine to go with my cheese…” No, I did not make that up!

The next event of note in Fredericks reign was when he nearly lost his precious cheese. Forces claiming to support the claims of Ercole (yes, that’s “Hercules”), Borso’s alleged heir, managed to not only incite the Emelianos to revolt in 1460 but took over the province and invaded Lombardy. They were not dislodged for more than a year. From that point, onwards, the Archdukes made sure that all their conquests were heavily garrisoned.

In the middle of this fol-de-rol, Bohemia, which had developed enough good sense to elect a different lineage than Freddie's for their kings, took it upon themselves to crusade against the Turks and declared war on the Ottoman Empire. At that time, this would have been a bit like going to the zoo and challenging a lion to wrestle, or so it seemed. Again, to keep the alliance together, Austria went to war.

And once again, Austria concluded a separate peace without drawing a weapon and then put its entire treasury essentially at Hungary’s disposal. With Turkish might vs. Austrian money, the Hungarians arranged a stalemate.

Not the sort of people to let their problems be ignored, Helvetia called upon Austria to defend her against an attack by Savoy in October of 1463. Once again, it was the same old story. Savoy, Genoa, and Tuscany (the Italians were starting to run out of countries) against our usual crew of thugs and bastards. This time Austria had herself a bit of a scare, since not only did Tuscany lay siege to Modena, but the Tuscans managed to repulse two Austrian armies at the Battle of the Po in December and at Reggio in early April of 1464. It’s a river. No, I am not making it up. No! There is not a “White Trash River” just north of it!

Unfortunately, the Austrian war machine had ground out enough troops to overwhelm the Tuscans two weeks later at the Battle of La Spezia, which was then followed up by the inevitable siege, conquest, and annexation of Tuscany. Once again, the hapless victim’s “allies” proved no help, whatsoever and virtually fell over themselves in their eagerness to sign peace with Austria. By 1465, Tuscany was Austrian and Austria was once again at peace. A year later, Helvetia annexed what remained of Savoy.

The next four years were dedicated to celebrations commemorating the Italian campaigns. For the first three of those years, young Ercole di Parma staged festive revolts in his family’s former realm. After Frederick thanked him in a most final fashion for the third round of festivities, the irrepressible Milanese held a memorial revolt in honor of Francesco Sforza’s embarrassing demise.

The next year, instead of having an Italian revolt, Frederick and “the Guys” joined in on Bohemia’s inexplicable crusade against the Turks, who had not been able to nudge themselves westward in nearly a century. As usual, it ended up with a lot of corpses and nothing changing hands. (However, Hungarian campaigns against Serbia in 1470 and 1477 did eliminate that little country.)

Nevertheless, the revolting Italian season was back on track for 1474, with Lorenzo di Medici throwing two parties in Tuscany that year to make up for having missed their turn the last time around. The costs of entertaining so many Austrian soldiers on an annual basis had begun to mount. So the event became only semi-annual, recurring in 1476 (hosted by Modena) and 1478, when the event was suddenly halted by Lorenzo’s untimely demise during peace negotiations, having fallen upon a dagger fifteen times, tied himself to a chair, hanged himself, and set his own head on fire. General European opinion was that this was either a tragic accident or a fatal case of Habsburg. Either way, the Medici dynasty was heard of no more.

Alarmed at the possibility that Europe was threatened by a plague of Habsburg, Ragusa and Pope Sixtus IV separately declared war on Austria in 1478, within days of each other. As far as anyone can tell, the idea might have been to strike Austria before she could strike back. For Ragusa and the Papal States, this is like trying to control a mad dog by hitting it on the nose with a fly swatter. Remarkably large Austrian garrisons were camped on their very borders at the time.

The Pope’s generals thought that Austria could be distracted by an assault upon her richest province. Nothing could be further from the truth. Austria let their poor Italian subjects suffer at the hands of their co-nationals and launched a two-pronged attack against Siena and the Papal states. Both armies were repulsed and withdrew to Tuscany, where they aided the garrison in defeating a Siennese invasion. Half the remaining forces were sent into Siena to take the city of Pisa. By the end of 1478, the Siennese army had been scattered to the winds and Austria’s bravest were merrily at their old pastime of plundering an enemy’s countryside.

By the summer of 1479, the entirety of Sixtus’s army was besieging Lombardy. Frederick did not rush to the provinces defense. Instead, all troops that could be spared from the Sienese siege and the eastern war (remember--Bohemia defends Christendom against impotent Turks?) were marched directly against the city of Rome, with a state loan financing more recruitment. With no armies in the field to defend it, Rome fell ten months later. Only then were Roman forces disengaged from Lombardy (which had not yet fallen) to march back south. In the meantime, the Papal States’s eastern provinces were being reduced by Austrian forces.

Am I boring you, Mansfield? Well, live with it!

So, by 1480, Siena was prostrate and expecting to be gobbled up like every other country. But Frederick had been getting hate mail from the other capitals of Europe for the last four years, and if Rome and Ragusa were ready to declare war, France and Castile might be next, and they were two countries Austria did not want to face. So Siena got off lightly, only being reduced to a client status and left to go on her way. This sort of clemency did not sit well with the Austrian nobility, who demanded that Frederick step down. He invited them to a dinner to negotiate on the matter and had them hacked to bits as they entered his dining hall. October 5 is still commemorated as “Frederick’s Dinner Party” in Austrian parts.

The Papacy, on the other hand, was forced to give up all its Adriatic provinces by 1481, leaving only the Roma district to its name. “Complain to Constantine.” was the Austrian motto. Shut up, Thompson.

Now, in the east, it had become a nasty, slogging sort of war, with Regusa continually dashing back into Albania, with whom they had a military passage agreement, every time they were kicked out by Austria. In the end, a Swiss mob showed up and annexed the whole place in 1481.

The year 1481 also saw widespread revolts in both conquered and native Austrian provinces. By the end of the year, the revolts were put down, but the Austrian army was nearly destroyed in the process. Served them right, if you ask me. Unfortunately, money extorted from their Italian provinces let Austria rebuild in short order.

In September 1482, Bohemia resumed her incomprehensible crusade against the Turks. Austria went along, since it seemed to keep the Bohemians out of trouble with the Poles. Unfortunately, in October of that same year, Genoa declared war on Helvetia. Austria’s other allies had had enough of Helvetia’s shenanigans, so they told the Swiss to go whistle. Austria desperately dashed around patching the alliance back together and then went to Helvetica’s aid. The war ended with Helvetica‘s loss of the Piedmont to Aragon since Austria only intervened to drive Genovese forces out of Austrian and Swiss territory and Helvetia could not afford to mount an effective invasion or defense on her own.

The next decade of Frederick’s reign saw no more foreign adventures, but at least the revolting Italian tradition was kept alive by a rebellion in Modena in 1486 and in Romagna four years later. Unfortunately, it seemed that the celebrants hearts weren’t really in it, as both of these revolts were put down in a matter of mere weeks.

In 1492, Austria’s diplomatic efforts in erasing her atrocious reputation began to pay off. Saxony joined the Austrian alliance. Helvetia consented to a complete legal union on January 1, 1493. This left Frederick with a headache that no doubt is what killed him--having to rule the half a million Frenchman of Savoy. Likewise, Frederick and Austria’s worst nightmare had come true. France now had an excuse to declare war upon them. To prevent this, Savoy’s independence from Helvetia and Austria was granted March 15, 1493. Savoy immediately entered the Austrian alliance.

On his deathbed, Frederick could look back at what he had done for Austria:



Northern Italy was dominated by Austrian troops and more importantly, by Austrian tax collectors. The Adriatic was bordered east and west by Austrian ports. While he had entertained the idea of taking out Venice, the Doges had learned their lesson long ago and spent every spare penny they had on putting as many soldiers as they could into Veneto and in allying with inconveniently powerful countries like Spain (hey-presto, it’s not Castile anymore!) or Poland.

Before I relese you, we have a few announcements. Next week the cafeteria will be undergoing repairs, so hot meals will be off until at least Wednesday. It says “repairs” on the card, Martin. I don’t care what sort of creature graces the truck, the card says “repairs”. Some of the headmaster’s nieces will be visiting him some time in the near future, so you are all getting fair warning. We will have no fiascos like occurred last time, and you will be watched. Speaking of which, a collection is being taken up by each class for a post-honeymoon card for the happy couple.

[Lord Durham]

Originally posted by Dogface
This left Frederick with a headache that no doubt is what killed him--having to rule the half a million Frenchman of Savoy.

Good line.

This is extremely well-done, Dogface. You've managed a nice mix of history and humour. Keep it coming, and make sure you fumigate the cafeteria...

[Craig Ashley]

originally posted by Dogface

Next week the cafeteria will be undergoing repairs, so hot meals will be off until at least Wednesday. It says “repairs” on the card, Martin. I don’t care what sort of creature graces the truck, the card says “repairs”.

This rminds me of the old Jr. High cafeteria. The day after fried chicken (so greasy it could stop the heart of an olympian) was always BBQ chicken. (just scrap off the breading and add sauce)

Great work though. I laughed out loud all through the lecture. Mr. F-- made me sit in the corner.

[King Of Nines]

we always had to soak the grease off our cafeteria food with several napkins. in fact, we used far more napkins for that than to actually clean up.

[Vermithrax]

Why do I hear the voice of John Cleese as I read this?

A great read! Can't wait for the next installment!

[Dogface]

Imagine if James Burke lost all his writing jobs, the BBC, Thames, and Murdoch told him to never bother to call them again, his family dropped him in a dumpster, and he spent a year taking really low-grade homemade LSD. Then he gets a call to teach at a boys' school whose most famous alumnus echieved notoriety for holding the world's record for greatest number of failed suicides (before dying of old age).

[Dogface]

Originally posted by Craig Ashley
This rminds me of the old Jr. High cafeteria. The day after fried chicken (so greasy it could stop the heart of an olympian) was always BBQ chicken. (just scrap off the breading and add sauce)

The college I went to was on the small side, so it could require everyone not a senior to live on campus. Likewise, it required everyone living on campus to purchase a "meal plan" at the school's dining hall (run by a contractor, not the school).

There was a year when one could tell whether or not somebody was a student there by saying "Hungarian", "noodle", and "bake" in the same sentence. A student living on-campus would subconsciously connect the words and faint.

My sophomore year, a mysterious "flu" swept the campus but did not touch the surrounding town. Likewise, it did not afflict students who lived off campus nor any of the faculty. Students were vigorously encouraged to get all treatment via the college health center, but one student, whose family insisted he be maintained on their insurance, went to an area hospital, where he was immediately diagnosed with salmonella (backed up by microbiological tests). He was threatened with expulsion for daring to do this--his family's lawyer had a word with the Dean of Students...

[Pishtaco]

This is superb stuff, but dangerous. I never really studied history, and these have now installed themselves in the empty history-lesson slot in my subconcious. Keep it up.

[MrT]

This is absolutely priceless!

One of my favorite sections from the latest instalment is...

Why was there a “King of the Germans” and an Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire? Fair enough question, I suppose. The problem child was yet another chunk of Habsburg land, of course--Bohemia. Not a Kraut to be found for miles in parts of it, and it was still in the Empire. So you had a King of Bohemia--an actual king of a country and a “King of the Germans”, who didn’t have a territory but at least could consider himself Top Dachshund.

Keep up the brilliant work!