Ed was born on October 25th 1758, the youngest of the Lady Augusta Keyse’s brood of bastard children. With her husband, the Earl of Narksham, away at war for years at a time, she often had to entertain herself with whatever came to hand. Frequently this was her house-pet (and on & off gardener) Alejandro Chutney-Ferret, a dwarf and a Spaniard. Her Ladyship was always amused by his party trick of crouching down and stuffing himself entirely inside a small vase. So amused in-fact that she almost always lifted her skirts and squeezed him entirely inside something slightly larger.
Luckily for Ed his every trait was entirely inherited from his maternal side of the family with no hint of Iberian blood about him. He may have grown to become an insane, vicious, sex-crazed megalomaniac, but unnaturally short, prone to excessive sweating or beige he never was. Thus was the young Ed passed off to the senile Humphrey Keyse, 1st Earl of Narksham, as his own son while his siblings were donated to the Royal Society for medical experiments or thrown in the canal.
Nevertheless Ed’s early life was no picnic. Narksham was a mad old bastard with a hair-trigger temper and, since he didn’t have a pair of breasts, the young boy was usually in the firing line. During the brief periods when he wasn‘t being flogged or strangled, he had to live with the Earl‘s sense of humour. Frequently Ed would wake in the night to discover that his father had set his bed on fire or released a live wolf into the room. One can only imagine the feelings of relief that swept through the boy when the news came that the Earl had died heroically in battle leading a charge of the 7th Hussars into a volcano.
At age 11 at his mothers request he attended Eton. Fearful that he’d end up with a colon like a boned chicken he put up such a fight that he had to be forcibly restrained, drugged with laudanum and sent by mail coach. Luckily for him he arrived during a short but intense craze for passive sodomy amongst the seniors. By the end of his first year he had been obliged into the ring-pieces of the entire staff as well as the prefects and most of senior boys but his own arsehole stayed tight as a balloon knot. Later on after he had been accepted into the Society it was Ed’s influence that changed the school fashions back to more traditional active buggery of the younger boys. He also started the tradition of senior pupils fashioning their own hot water bottles with a first-year boy, a boiling hot enema and a champagne cork in the last month of Michaelmas term.
He attended Cambridge in 1778 and his exploits began to draw attention. Ever the networker; Ed was a member of several of the university’s more hedonistic secret societies and inside the inner circle (as it were) he was known as a capital fellow with a razor sharp wit, a tremendous capacity for drink and drugs and “a good pair of buns on him.” Through a combination of an unerring eye for cards, an encyclopaedic knowledge of the region’s prostitutes and straight-up blackmail he gained favours from various members of the upper classes that kept him safe from wider public opinion. The scandal that erupted when he shot a dwarf for a laugh would have certainly seen a lesser man expelled, but as it was it was merely quietly suggested to him by the dons that all the best brothels were in London and since his degree was safe (bought and paid for when he was in nappies) despite never attending a lecture or doing a single page of work in two years, he would hardly be missed. So Ed made a leisurely journey from Cambridge to London via Aberdeen at the pace of about ten miles a week leaving broken hearts, broken marriages, broken animals, and the occasional duel in his wake.
His time spent in the capital gained him further notoriety. On one memorable occasion in 1780 during an everyday orgy he consumed a cocktail of hallucinogens so potent he convinced himself that forward elements of the Prussian army had infiltrated London disguised as nuns in preparation for an immediate invasion. Taking it upon himself to defend the city; Ed broke into London Zoo, “freed” a captive Giraffe and galloped bareback through the streets, firing pistols at pedestrians, and lassoing any young women he came upon.
At the resulting trial he chose to present his own defence, arguing that the victims were all vehement anti-royalists in the pay of the United States and the prosecutor was a Catholic. His standing as nobility got him off with six months imprisonment but not before he invoked “Nehktirac, the sub-demon of effeminacy!” and challenged the judge to a duel.
He was released and pardoned three weeks into his sentence after calling in a favour from the Prince of Wales. Ed had met the Prince in a brothel once and confided to him that buggering French peasant girls was a cure for syphilis. It isn‘t, but his Highness was grateful for it was the thought that counted. The three weeks in prison marked the longest time Ed had ever been sober and without a shag since the age of eight and he left a changed man. Full of purpose and vision he was resolved to make his mark on the world.
Naturally his first move was to poison his mother and hire some pirates.
Armed with the fortunes from his inherited estate and the steady stream of revenue gained from a corsair fleet operating out of Dar es Salaam, he set about ensuring that his name would live forever. Conscious of public opinion’s importance in the matter he was responsible for many a humanitarian act. He used his position in the Lords to protest tirelessly against abolitionism and he invested heavily in the sugar and cotton industries in order to “give some meaning to the godless heathens of the tropics.” In 1781 Ed founded St Gerald’s Hospital for the Restraint and Rehabilitation of the Hysterical and Racially Ambiguous. He also commissioned hundreds of portraits of himself and had them sent to households around the country with the suggestion that they be used as a conversation piece or to frighten unruly children, and at the latter function they excelled.
Appalled at the revolutionary situation in France; he bought a commission as a Colonel in the army and landed with the British Forces in Toulon in 1793. Instructed to scout out all approaches to the city he marched his men straight into the advancing French vanguard. He promptly ambushed and shattered the French force of 700 armed peasants in only thirty minutes of hard fighting and at the minimal cost of only 12 men of the regiment and 6,000 colonial conscripts. When the young Napoleon Bonaparte arrived and laid siege to the city, Ed corresponded with him personally. Surviving letters in the possession of the Napoleon Institute contain the one of the first instances of the term “pig-fucker” used in polite conversation. Contemporary accounts say that Ed frequently mooned the French army from the city walls while encouraging his men to sing “you‘ll never get this, you Froggy bastards!” This charming piece of wit has survived into the present day as a popular English football chant during the European Championship.
Satisfied that history would remember him and he was assured immortality in name Ed began to think more literally. A committed atheist, Ed balked at the idea of life after death so instead he began to think of ways to extend his mortal life. After much consultation with the nation’s foremost men of science, his initial attempt involved him attempting to pass his consciousness into the body of a young street-girl by engaging in a bout of vigorous sex with her in a treetop during a thunderstorm. The resulting explosion blew him two hundred feet into the air and knocked him out for three days. On coming to he was elated, thinking his plan had worked, before realising that what he’d thought were his new breasts were actually all that remained of the wench, who had not survived the experiment, that had been fused to his chest hair. After having them removed they were given a Christian burial.
After this he became increasingly despondent until finally, in 1805, Ed heard rumour of a mystical Inuit talisman that would grant the bearer the life of the stars as well as strength of a polar bear and the speed and temperament of a narwhal. Immediately he organised an expedition to the pole. Taking with him only supplies, his butler, two native guides and twelve whores he set off from southern Greenland and made his way north by dog-sled.
It is not known what occurred but the only member of the ill-fated expedition to return was one of the prostitutes; 15 year old Mary “tidy-flaps” Simpkins from Stoke on Trent. She never spoke of what happened, mainly due to the freezing conditions having fused her jaw shut, cruelly robbing her of half her income, but she was able to draw vague pictures of the party attacked by large bears, Ed hitching her to an empty sled and her pulling him to safety while the others were killed, and finally, Ed face down in the snow. Dead of cold.
One of histories great tragedies. A long life of charming eccentricity, horrendous violence, impressive levels of substance abuse, questionable scientific practice and heroic feats of sexual endurance; snuffed out in an instant by mother nature.
Or was it?
Since he disappeared and no body was ever recovered; that is when history has recorded his moment of passing. However we can now reveal, in the hours before his demise the levels of sugar and cocaine in his bloodstream (his daily breakfast for thirty years) were sufficient enough as to actually prevent cell death from the freezing temperatures. As such he has since remained in the arctic wastes in a state of cryogenic preservation. Clinically dead, but not gone. Until now.
With the Greenland ice sheets melting due to Global Warming he has recently risen anew from death’s cold embrace all the stronger and more of a bastard for it. Lock up your loved ones (unless you live in Austria). He comes…
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