Welcome my Fairy brothers and sisters to our campaign for "Male Fairy Recognition"

 

My struggles began as a baby fairy born in Northern Ireland in a fantastic round fairy ring on the outskirts of the walled city.   It was a difficult time for my fairy parents, as they were bulldozed from their fairy tree by a car manufacturer who wanted to build a car so fast that it could travel in time.  Sadly due to his destruction of the sacred fairy ring, my fairy parents and others who inhabited the fairy ring had to find a new home.  It was a wasted effort on the Delorean side, as the company was soon made bankrupt.  Partly because no one ever came back from their test drives (Though they did not know they were multi millionares in 2010 where their customers seemed to end up) and partly because the Irish Fairy Circle Society were nearly as upset as the residents , who had after all been living there for thousands of years and therefore it seemed reasonable to them to put a pre 2010 poverty spell on them.  Due to the shortage of safe fairy housing at that time, my now homeless parents, sister and I snuck aboard a ferry to Scotland where we found a fantastic fairy wood outside Livingstone.  Livingstne was a fantastic place, large black mountains called slag heaps and full of dusty smokey air, quite unlike the green forests of Ireland.  Unfortunately that was a short lived experience, as an unexpected idiom came to light a few weeks after my parents spent several days thinking they were being helpful to their new neighbour , by "looking for a lost ball in the high weeds".   After a few weeks when the meaning came to them via a drunken stranger, they decided it would be better to stow away on a mail ship bound for America.  America the land of the Indians, wild west, red wood trees so high a thousand fairies could live in a single tree scraper.  They were called tree scappers because there was a lot of scraping to make all the little holes needed to live in and witha thousand fairies, one could always hear scraping.  Excited we found a suitable place to sleep in the mail room during the day.  It was great to peep out and watch the hustle and bustl of the humans carrying out their daily chores.  We spent several weeks talking funny while we secretly helped at night licking stamps and putting them on envelopes.  We did this for several weeks until we heard a huge fight one day between the postmaster and an assitant, who was being blamed for wasting hundreds of pounds of stamps by putting them on telegrams!  My Mum would not let my Father do anything after that and he was also not allowed to get somthing very important she had of his, "till he wised up!"  It must have been very special to him as he hardly spoke for the rest of the journey.  Niot that any of us could speak very well for some time as the effects of the glue gave us a distinctive lisp.   It was great excitment the day we finally docked, it seemed we had beenon the boat for ages.  We were rather surprised too when we snuck out the day the ship docked, to find a rather table like mountain and no sign of the Statue of Liberty I was so excited about seeing.  Confused we retreated to a small Apple Tree outside the city for a big row between my parents.  While they rowed for several days, my sister and I sat and watched rather peculiarly weird humans. On first glance the place seemed perfectly normal, but after awhile you could not help noticing that on one side of the streets white people walked and on the other side black people walked?  After several days of parental arguments we decided that the town was under some strange spell and not wanting to have any more bad luck, we jumped onto an Apple Train in search of apples and a unspelled town.  We were soon to find that there were absolutely no apples on the train and that there was no unspelled towns in this strange country. .... the story will continue....soon .... honest...