Another Suspicious Bedtime Story...

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away somewhere on the B-Road between Dingly-Dell and the Enchanted Forest there lived a troll.

Since the changes in Government Legislation, the troll was allowed to operate a government operated Troll-Bridge and had been doing so quite successfully since last October.

On a particularly warm and sunny day, the troll was sitting, comfortably watching television in his cosy little home below the bridge. Crumpets were toasting lightly on the grill and two soft boiled eggs were almost ready to be plucked from the bubbling saucepan when the troll heard a loud clippety-clopping on his roof.

Grabbing his luminous jacket and clipboard, the troll (who's name was Graham, which, incidentally was also the name of his father who used to work at Tescos until an unfortunate incident with a pricing gun and an over-excited otter family...but let's not get off-topic), made his way up to the bridge.

The source of the clippety-clippety-clip-clop-clippitying was a small goat. Graham immediately struck his government approved pose and snarled his government approved snarl. His intention was clear.

"Oh please let me pass!" said the little goat.

"under sub-section 5.2, paragraph 2, I am instructed to ask you to pay the toll of 5 gold pieces. Should you not wish to pay or cannot pay, I am, under sub-section 4.9 paragraph 11, allowed to eat you." Said Graham.

"Wait" said the little goat, "I'm only a very small goat and probably not even a worthy mouthful for someone as big and strong as you. If you let me pass, my Mummy will be here soon. She's all plump and delicious. You could eat her instead..."

Graham considered this and, despite this not being in the government handbook, he decided there was some truth in the goat's story and let him pass.

Back below the bridge, the troll sniffed some daffodils he'd collected that mornng and then began his weekly chore of carefully separating the tins and plastic and paper in preparation for his trip to the Environmentally Friendly Recycling Centre when there was a Trotty-trot-trotting noise from above.

Once again, Graham whisked himself upstairs and was faced by a larger and slightly prettier goat than before. "Ahem!" He said.

Mummy Goat (for it was she), knew all about the troll and cut him off before he had a chance to say all that rulebook stuff and saved the writer of this story from getting repetitive strain injury.

"Dear Troll, I understand your plight but I've been on this bran diet for weeks now and, well, my insides are all wrong. I'm pretty sure that I'd taste quite awful at the moment BUT my husband passes this way in a short while. He'd be a worthy meal for you".

The Troll, once again, carefully considered this proposition and decided to let Mummy Goat pass.

Under the bridge once more, Graham the Troll took the opportunity to see to the baby sparrows he had rescued recently after their mother had vanished. He had gently microwaved some small juicy worms and fed each one in turn with a plastic spork. The baby sparrows chirped with joy as their tiny tummies were filled with tasty wormy goodness.

Graham was just licking an NSPCC charity donation envelope as he heard a loud clompity-clomping from upstairs...

Scrambling back to the bridge, the troll was faced with the biggest goat he had ever seen. He fumbled to grab his clipboard and was just about to read the stuff about sub-sections and paragraphs, which I still cant be bothered to re-write, when the goat charged at him.

Ramming the Troll hard in the stomach, Graham fell over the side of the bridge and made a sort of high pitched squeaking noise (which was similar to the one the troll's father had heard eminating from the aforementioned excited otter family right before he'd been sacked from Tescos...but let's not get off-topic), leaving the bridge unattended and free for the big goat to pass.

Have YOU ever had an injury at work? Ever needed to make a claim for an accident that wasn't your fault but worried about the legal costs?

Our experts are ready 24 hours a day for your call. So don't delay, contact us! The number is toll-free but we hope it isn't Troll-Free!!*

This story was brought to you in association with the Trolls Will Always Try Society - demanding fair representation for misunderstood slimy creatures everywhere.

*sorry.